Ghost owl habitat

This night is moon;
is ghost-owl habitat,
an ink-washed shadow-journey,
mourning lack
of luster,
loss of glow;

This night is close to death,
but through
self-inflicted exorcism,
painful rites of dissolution
restless passion,
you might cross these gloomy lakes

to yet taste
rays of daylight,
a persimmon of dawn,
softly slipping
nectar on your lips.

Commissioned Piece (Untitled) @mc__monster Used with Permission

55 words for Kerry’s prompt and McMonster’s picture at toads

October 5, 2019

18 responses to “Ghost owl habitat

    • I so much wanted to leave a comment on your wonderful poem… I think it worked so well, and have to say it reminded me a lot of a poem that could have been written by Leonard Cohen, and I could almost hear him singing.

      • Hi Bjorn–do I have comments disabled? I may! I have not been in touch with my blog, as you I’m sure know. Thanks very much. It is meant to be a song and about hearing music in one’s sleep I have been working a huge amount on my job and also working a lot on illustrated books on the side. Hope all well. k.

  1. Wow! I can really relate to this poem on a psychological level. The second stanza is very telling and beautifully concluded.

  2. Owl habitat, whether ghosts or alive, is the place to set the imagination free, which you’ve done is in this stunning poem, Björn! I love the phrases ‘ink-washed shadow-journey’ and ‘persimmon of dawn’.

  3. There is something here that makes me think of rites of passage, the harrowing sort where survival isn’t guaranteed. Love also holds no such guarantees.

  4. This was interesting reading, Bjorn. I liked stumbling, those early rays in the face, “persimmon of dawn, softly slipping nectar on your lips. I would like trying the sensation, I am doubting that I would like it.

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