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It's the Children's Hour again and the ghosts come out to play
Some must be coaxed from hiding spots
Some are loud and boisterous tots
We welcome them into our room
We don't shoo them away
At the Children's Hour
We build them altars out of clay
We paint their portraits with our crayons
With feathers, glitter, and glue
We construct our own memento mori
And decorate them with colorful beads
to wear around our necks
At the Children's Hour
We are not afraid of ghosts here
We have seen them all
Even the monsters that live
in your dreams
And make you think of terrible things
That make you mad or make you scream
They're welcome here too
At the Children's Hour
Every ghost has a story to tell
Perhaps about heaven or maybe about hell
Even a silent ghost
Has a lot to say
At the Children's Hour
This poem was inspired by my work with a children's bereavement group through Hospice.
submitted for Poets United, Thursday Think Tank #39 - Ghosts
10 comments:
Love the poem. It's too true that ghosts have a story to tell.
Laynee-Thank you so much. I'm trying to get psyched up to do another group at hospice with the kids. Lots of ghosts to meet. And point taken about your work. Sometimes mine is made up as well or "true stories from my fake life"!
Oh gosh. Bless them.
Sad one - just got out of the hospital with my baby - great write.
How meaningful to share yourself like this!
Great job~
Oh no one will know more about ghosts than children of a hospice group. So sad, but the children have so much wisdom. Such a good poem.So nice to see you at Poets United.
I am passing The Versatile Blogger Award onto you. I hope you will accept. I have enjoyed your meaningful writings.
http://bodhirose.wordpress.com/2011/03/12/the-versatile-blogger-award/
Strong images. Alters out of clay. I really enjoyed reading this.
I enjoyed reading your writing!
sad, well done.
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