Empty Echo – Poetry By Mark Goodson

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Photograpy by Sondra Talbert Primeaux www.unruffled.com

 

 

In a passion

that could cook skin,

Like knuckle-eyed

Death at the door,

The wild wind whipped

Round the blind corner.

 

I heard the footfall,

A stranger in pursuit.

 

I looked back and saw

A well-lit mirror,

An open-window-stare.

 

Heard some phone

Call in the night.

 

A cry, a moan

Like river-bed stone

Swallowed by

Blue river veins.

 

It was not tomorrow,

Or how yesterday

Hurls itself

At the junction

Of my dreams

And waking hours.

 

It was an echo.

 

My empty voice returned

As strange to my ears

As to the mouth who

Let the utterance fly

To remind me I have

Not forgotten the ghost

That still rattles my bones.

(Read Marks Blog at http://www.markgoodson.com/

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About Mark Goodson

Mark Goodson has been in continuous recovery since 2007. Writing for him began as a creative tool to recover from addiction and eventually compelled him to become a teacher. Read his blog at http://www.markgoodson.com/
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4 Comments

  1. Very Nice! Worth multiple readings and reflections.

  2. love that Mark! Well done sir!

  3. What’s up to all, the contents present at this web page are truly amazing for
    people experience, well, keep up the good work fellows.

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