Tag: Sleeping with Ghosts

Read Me (Dream #100825)

It’s 9 o’clock my time
barely three for you
but it’s no matter
we’re decades apart —
not hours —
only ghosts
here in the library
where I race to find
the book
I need you to read
before the alarm goes off
and I wake to the day
where it’s just a fine gold thread
that connects us now.

I pass long tall stacks
of coffee table books and
the bust of Blackstone
in the halls of recorded memory —
yours and mine —
and you seem not to notice
the immediacy of the moment
when I approach with insistence,
your retired posture almost welcome
were it not for the clock ticking
next to me in the bed we used to share,

but by then the words have disappeared
from the pages in your lap
and in exchange, a collage of
nonsensical images
fall to the ground at your feet
rendering me speechless
in that dreamworld way,
paralyzed by all I have left to say,
gasping for moonlit breaths.

Poem and photo ©2025, Jen Payne. The bust in the photo is actually James’ son Timothy but that’s too many syllables. If you like this poem, you’ll love my new book SLEEPING WITH GHOSTS, on sale now!

Tags Connecticut Poet, dream poems, dreamwork, Jen Payne, life with ghosts, Living with Ghosts, Memoir, Poem, Poems, Poetry, Sleeping with Ghosts

Creativity Poetry

Pandora’s Consort

You are legend
suddenly made flesh
but no comparison
to the mythology
I have constructed for you.
its scaffolding
felled akimbo
by your presence,
poetry strewn
in incomplete sentences
across the timeline;
mere mortals are not made for this;
we fail by our very nature,
destroy the sacred altars of memory,
light fires to its sweetness,
and burn down walls of forgetfulness;
best put you back in the box,
close the lid tightly
before even Hope escapes
the happy ending
I wrote on our behalf

Tags auld lang syne, Connecticut Poet, dream poems, Jen Payne, life with ghosts, Living with Ghosts, Memoir, Poem, Poems, Poetry, Sleeping with Ghosts

Creativity Poetry

Dreamcatcher

Maybe it was the full moon
or just the occurrence
of these days of ending
things crashing around us
the long slow molting
I want you to know
I tell him
in case I die…
but I am no longer sure
if that was real
or something I said to a ghost

They all come to visit lately
by happenstance
or dream
by the cosmic dust
that connects all of us
or through airwaves
as cluttered as our
atmosphere

Last night
I walked with one —
a ghost —
along a woods road
up into a wide field
of apple trees
and goldenrod
laughing
like old friends

And it was so good
to see him again
that I burrowed back
into sleep
in case he was still there
waiting

Sometimes
when they hover like this
converge in dream spaces
whisper in dark corners
I think
I must be dying
And this is our
mea culpa
our chance to set things right
finally or again

I have no regrets

Tags Connecticut Poet, dream poems, Jen Payne, life with ghosts, Living with Ghosts, Memoir, Poem, Poems, Poetry, Sleeping with Ghosts

Memoir

30 Years is a Long Time

At 6:15 this morning I had the thought I should drive to Pennsylvania. Sit at my father’s graveside for a while. Talk about all of the things that have changed in the 30 years since we buried him there, the all of us still in shock about the accident, the sudden death, the things we’d left unsaid.

Thirty years is a long time — almost half my life now — there would be a lot to say.

I hadn’t thought of a cemetery visit, made a plan. The grief is so subtle now, with no demands for place and time. It comes as it will come, whether I am sitting there among rows of stones, or sitting in the woods communing with the spirit of everything.

So that was my choice — the spirit of everything in the woods early this morning, and I was happy for the solitude, the Sunday morning quiet.

While I hoped for a sign — he often appears as Hawk — or a voice on the wind, what I found was gratitude.

A deep and unyielding gratitude for how very well he raised me, how strong he taught me to be; for his laugh and the stick-with-it, positive way he approached life; for his encouragement to dream big and love big.

My favorite story about my Dad was the time he took me sledding when I was about four-and-a-half. He set me up on the sled at the top of a rather large hill and reminded me to steer left when I got to the tree. But I got my left and right mixed up and hit the tree straight on — requiring a race to the emergency room and ten stitches. A few weeks later, he brought me back to that hill and told me to open the glove compartment. Inside was the bloody rag he’d held to my forehead — it was a no-pain-no-gain moment. Then he made get on the sled and go back down the hill because…“When you fall off the horse, you get right back on.”

These days we call that tenacity, perseverance, courage, strength, resilience — all of the things that got 29-year-old me standing graveside to this version of me now. I like to think he’d be really proud.

Tags Family, Grief, Life, Living with Ghosts, loss, Memoir, Memory, remembrance, Sleeping with Ghosts, Writing

Creativity Poetry

Dream, Driving, Rain #05-081725

Post author By Jen Payne
Post date August 17, 2025
No Comments on Dream, Driving, Rain #05-081725

I stayed too long in dreams
so much the day seems flat
and one dimension;
in my mind, the sander
still polishes the leg
of the man who said
“the body always feels pain”
as sawdust coats my throat
too much for words;
a crystal-blue rain falls
with wicked gold lightening
against the wide horizon
somewhere along I-90 in South Dakota,
an angel floating in the back seat
laughs at what we forgot to say,
urges me to Drive! Drive! Drive!
as if I am escaping something;
all the while my mind ticks,
like a clock pacing time,
thinking how to slip you a note
handwritten that says 808.81
and nothing more,
you’re the Sherlock Holmes,
you figure it out;
all these years,
the conversations in my head
and you, deaf and blind or
just resigned to dreams
like me, this morning,
wasting days away
before the knives cut out pieces of me
again, remember?
Like the last time you were here,
the both of us relieved to hear
“she made it.”

Tags Connecticut Poet, Jen Payne, life with ghosts, Living with Ghosts, Memoir, Poem, Poems, poems about dreams, Poetry, Sleeping with Ghosts

Creativity Poetry

Running into Ghosts

The friend who found me
after I lost you
died
and so I lost her, too

there’s a long list of others
lost for various reasons
since then

by default
by accident
by misfortune or miscalculation
or by the eventuality that all things change and nothing is certain

certainly not love
I’ve lost that, too,
too many times

so many times
I’ve stopped counting
one, two, three…
out loud anyway

do you ever wonder why we find them again?
in hallways of dreams,
in lobbies of random buildings
doors opening and closing and time passing on all sides
everywhere
except where you stand
momentarily
lost and found and lost again

Tags Connecticut Poet, Jen Payne, life with ghosts, Living with Ghosts, Memoir, Poem, Poems, Poetry, Sleeping with Ghosts

Creativity Poetry

The Least I Could Do

What you do for the least of these…

God whispers from a corner

of the forest where I walk,

and there, beneath my feet

a convocation of earthworms

crossing the path,

etching their prayers in dirt

…you did for me

so I lift them gently

one at a time

to the safe green haven

trailside

thinking…

how simple this task

how easy to take care

of those under foot

how bending down

to lift others up

is a sacred act,

a blessing

in this wicked, wicked world.

Tags Anthropocene, Connecticut Poet, Jen Payne, life with ghosts, nature poems, Poem, Poems, poems about the anthropecene, poems in 2025, Poetry, Sleeping with Ghosts, writing in 2025

Creativity Poetry

Perennial

there will always be more to say
a one thing I didn’t mention
a question I needed to ask
a reassurance or gratitude
or words I never, ever spoke out loud
a messy, beautiful bouquet
things I’ve gathered
for the next time we meet
by chance or happenstance
petals dropping
even as I walk away
a meadow of words at my feet
forget-me-not
nor I you, ever

Tags Connecticut Poet, Jen Payne, life with ghosts, Living with Ghosts, Memoir, Poem, Poems, Poetry, Sleeping with Ghosts

Creativity Poetry

Swashbuckler

His smile was Errol Flynn
from the get-go,
and he made no apologies
for the affect —
the tight jeans
and cowboy boots,
the crisp white t-shirt
sleeves rolled, suntanned arms,
the hair done up and over,
the cologne as alluring
as the charm he used
to catch your attention.
And once he had it,
he’d reel you in slow and steady,
until you would agree to anything
everything
and never look back,
not even now,
all these years later,
where he remains as legendary
as he was those first early days
when you rode the high seas together,
stared up at the wild stars
and knew you would
never
ever
forget.

Tags Connecticut Poet, errol flynn, Jen Payne, life with ghosts, Living with Ghosts, Memoir, Poem, Poems, poems about pirates, Poetry, Sleeping with Ghosts

Creativity Poetry

26-F Stop

There’s this photo
in which he stares
at the camera
and I remember
we’d already
begun by then;
made plans,
talked for hours,
fallen in love, even
by the look on his face;
I remember that day,
our chairs pushed together,
sharing our lunches,
scribbling notes
to each other
like school kids;
but we were hardly that,
hardly so fresh to all of it;
I wish my camera
had focused more,
had adjusted its
exposure
to show the shadows,
the rough edges
and hidden details,
to find the nuances
in the full picture
I see so clearly,
now.

Poem and photo ©2025 Jen Payne. NaPoWriMo, National Poetry Writing Month. If you like this poem, you can read similar in my books and zines, available from Three Chairs Publishing on my ETSY SHOP. They come autographed, with gratitude and a small gift.

Tags #NaPoWriMo, Anthropocene, Connecticut Poet, Jen Payne, life with ghosts, Memoir, National Poetry Month, National Poetry Writing Month, Poem, Poems, Poetry, Sleeping with Ghosts, Writing

Creativity Poetry

20-Conjured

It’s witchcraft, surely
the lyrics so clearly written
for you and me…ha!
as if she even knows we exist

or existed…
it’s been so long

but maybe we are
whatever we were
whatever that was
something to
write songs about

our confluence
of time and need
desire and connection
in an instant
how we both knew!

like we do now
in moments
the coincidence
of a memory
a sighting
a conjuring of
you and me and
shadows of

whatever we were
whatever that was
something to
write songs about

on the radio
and me singing
like an incantation
a beautiful wicked spell
as your car passes by

Hocus Pocus
I’m sure you’d say
and we’d laugh
again
one more time
for old time’s sake

Poem ©2025 Jen Payne with thanks to Taylor Swift. NaPoWriMo, National Poetry Writing Month. If you like this poem, you can read similar in my books and zines, available from Three Chairs Publishing on my ETSY SHOP. They come autographed, with gratitude and a small gift.

Tags #NaPoWriMo, Anthropocene, Connecticut Poet, ghosts, Jen Payne, Memoir, National Poetry Month, National Poetry Writing Month, Poem, Poems, poems about Taylor Swift, Poetry, Sleeping with Ghosts, Taylor Swift, Writing

Creativity Poetry

Happy National Poetry Month!

Post author By Jen Payne
Post date April 1, 2025
No Comments on Happy National Poetry Month!

“Launched by the Academy of American Poets in April 1996, National Poetry Month is a special occasion that celebrates poets’ integral role in our culture and that poetry matters. Over the years, it has become the largest literary celebration in the world, with tens of millions of readers, students, K–12 teachers, librarians, booksellers, literary events curators, publishers, families, and — of course — poets, marking poetry’s important place in our lives.”

Click here to read more about this annual celebration, then visit 30 WAYS TO CELEBRATE NATIONAL POETRY MONTH for suggestions on how you can join in!

My favorite way to celebrate is to join with the thousands of poets participating in NaPoWriMo — NATIONAL POETRY WRITING MONTH —in which we write a poem a day for the month of April.

While NaPoWriMo is celebrating 22 years this year, I’m happy to say this will be my 11th year attempting to write 30 poems in 30 days! Here we go!

Tags #NaPoWriMo, Connecticut Poet, ghost poems, Jen Payne, Memoir, National Poetry Month, Poem, Poems, poet, Poetry, Sleeping with Ghosts, Writing

Creativity

Magnetism

twice today
we passed each other
and twice today
that friction of energy
and chemistry
and memory
tugged at the
the solid yellow line
like the force between
silver magnets
so we each turned
bullet-time
freeze frame
slow motion
twice today
a sideswipe glance
the closest we’ve been
in years

Tags Connecticut Poet, ghost poems, Jen Payne, life with ghosts, Memoir, Poem, Poems, poet, Poetry, Sleeping with Ghosts, Writing

Creativity Poetry

Mea Culpa

Because I know too much
you look like her,
so instead of blaring my horn
I stop and smile
and let you pull out
into the crowded lot
in front of me

You’re sweet and
apologetic in gestures,
so I smile even more and nod
because I know too much,
and I owe you —
or her —
a thousand kindnesses
in place of apologies
that have long since
gathered dust
in the corner of
both our stories

Because I know too much
about your suspicions
and my jealousies,
your patience
and mine,
I think this gesture now
in this parking lot
with this stranger
might be atonement,
might be appreciation —
or love —
a precious light
in the shadows
of our shared secret

If you like this poem, you’ll love the poems in my new book…

Tags art, Books, Connecticut Poet, Jen Payne, literature, Memoir, Poetry, poetry as memoir, reading, Sleeping with Ghosts, Writing

Creativity Poetry

Decoration Enough

red is the color of cardinals
obviously

the underside of bittersweet
in the last days of fall

red is American holly
if the jays have been temperate,

winterberry and spicebush,
the staghorn sumac

it’s the pointed leaf of a maple
red maple, aptly named

and the flash in the splash
of the painted turtle diving

red is the tap tap tap
of the woodpeckers, there

and the robins who
may have stayed too long

red is burning bush
invading the woods,

it’s native wintergreen
and partridge berry

red is abundance
and wild, decoration enough

CHRISTMAS DECORATIONS IN NATURE PRESERVES

Think about the following before decorating a public tree:

While plastic ornaments are cheap and easy to obtain, they produce their own set of issues when left outside. Any ornaments that fall off the tree can easily end up in a waterbody and will never degrade in any environmentally friendly manner. The sun will make them brittle, and they can break apart into smaller and smaller pieces. Animals can eat the plastic and even pass it along to their offspring. This can be fatal for them both.
Ornaments made of glass or other breakable materials can shatter and find their way into the landscape. Again, this presents issues for wildlife. It also makes cleanup efforts more difficult and dangerous. No one wants to step on or pick up pieces of thin, broken glass.
All the ornaments, tinsel, garland, and tree skirts you use can quickly end up on the ground where they’re no longer fun and sparkly holiday ornaments. Now they’re in the watershed where they can cause greater problems for our water system. It’s best to leave these on your tree at home.
If it’s not cleaned up promptly, what was once a whimsical holiday embellishment is now a garish eyesore in a matter of a few weeks. If you’ve ever walked past one of these neglected scenes after the holidays, you know how they look. Shiny tinsel is now faded by the sun and left half draped on the ground. The ornaments have mostly fallen off, leaving one or two sad remnants clinging to the tree. It’s an embarrassing scene, one that belies the natural beauty of the area.

If you like this poem, you’ll love the poems in my new book…

Tags art, book banning, Books, Christmas, Connecticut Poet, Jen Payne, loveislove, Poem, Poetry, Sleeping with Ghosts, Writing

Creativity Poetry

Good Morning Kingfisher

It must be the kingfisher
wakes at eight
surely that is the reason
for his frequent
interruptions
his call overhead
his teasing sweep across the pond

I want to think he knows me
remembers me
even if that’s not the case

he no more knows my face
than the ducks in the pond,
the swan in morning light,
the heron hiding in the marsh

But I sit a while anyway
in a softness of sun and pine
all of us old friends
just starting our day.

LISTEN: Belted Kingfisher (more info)

If you like this poem, you’ll love the poems in my new book…

Tags art, book banning, Books, Connecticut Poet, Jen Payne, loveislove, Poetry, Sleeping with Ghosts, Writing

Creativity Poetry

Finding Myself Kinda Angry These Days

Post author By Jen Payne
Post date November 9, 2024
No Comments on Finding Myself Kinda Angry These Days

In the movie,
the woman is sad
and she curls into
the man for comfort
and he wraps his arms
around her
and pulls her close
and I remembered —
briefly —
when you used to
do that for me —
comfort me —
now all you do is
enrage me —
you and your
weak minded
hypocritical
ignorant politics —
and instead of
curling into you
I want to tear off your skin,
and bludgeon you with a stick,
and run over you with my car
at a very high speed,
and I find myself wishing
that instead of loving you
I’d suffocated you
one night with a pillow
and…oh
was that out loud?

If you like this poem, you’ll love the poems in my new book…

Tags art, book banning, Books, Connecticut Poet, Jen Payne, loveislove, Poetry, Sleeping with Ghosts, Writing

Creativity Poetry

The Bookshop Evangelist

She arrives with a flounce,
a bell-ringer at the door
in a purposeful manner,
and before I even see
the graven image
hung around her neck
I know what I am dealing with,
it’s in her posture —
the parochial way she holds herself
as she quietly tsks tsks tsks
at books on the shelf,
the way she nods
when she finds a kindred spirit
points to one up high on a shelf
“He’s Good,” she says out loud
and I know it’s a capital G,
like her god.
I feel like I should sit up straight
and uncross my legs proper
but my own talismans give me away
before I can adjust myself;
I want to tell her we are all
made with love
but she averts her eyes
and walks right past,
the crucifix seemingly larger
with each breath.

If you like this poem, you’ll love the poems in my new book…

Tags art, book banning, Books, Connecticut Poet, Jen Payne, loveislove, Poetry, Sleeping with Ghosts, Writing

Creativity Poetry

London Calling: A Dream

He’s talking about London,
shows me his collection of
vintage rock and roll posters,
slides close to tell me his stories
and his warm breath stirs me
despite what I’ve learned
about this kind of trespass,
so I lean in for a while
listen up close
and pretend I have every right
I deserve this
I need this
press up against the idea
until the alarm goes off
for a fourth or fifth time
and I have to shake off the thought
that slow delicious thought
and start the day.

If you like this poem, you’ll love the poems in my new book…

Tags art, Books, Connecticut Poet, dream poems, fiction, Jen Payne, literature, Poetry, reading, Sleeping with Ghosts, Writing

Creativity Poetry

A McDreamy Wandering

He shows up as Derek Shepherd,
of course…

I’m re-binging Grey’s Anatomy after all,
from the top
all 435 episodes

Call it
guilty pleasure
comfort food
insulation
election distraction

Anyhow…

he shows up as Derek Shepherd,
and he is the person I remember
warm and charming and happy
and he loves me

It feels green and shady
like home
familiar and safe
and where I’m supposed to be

Until I offer him a cup of coffee
and he says
“That’s OK, we have some in the car”
and I know she’s outside waiting

I mean, she’s freaking Isabella Rossellini
except she’s
Zoë Saldaña
Thandie Newton
tall, thin, athletic
academic
catholic
the anti-me
in every way possible

I feel in my heart
this incredible disappointment
as I search methodically for
the old worn copy of
Gulliver’s Travels
that he’s asked to borrow

and I can’t help but wonder
even in that dreamspace
why he looks like Derek Shepherd,
why he wants to read Jonathan Swift
and why the book I pull from the shelf is
my hardcover copy of Walden instead

it’s my favorite,
the one with the margin notes
from my Dad in pencil, ALL CAPS

it was one of the things
they had in common
except my Dad’s notes were
smart and thoughtful,
and “Derek’s” were critical
mean and pedantic

As I walk him to the elevator
and say goodbye, again,
I realize how easily I am moving,
how my body feels just fine,
familiar and safe
and where I’m supposed to be

and while I might feel disappointed
still, sometimes,
I am happy to have been set free
loosened from what bound me there
in that small, small place
where I could hardly ever breathe

Nobody knows where they might end up
Nobody knows
Nobody knows where they might wake up
Nobody knows

If you like this poem, you’ll love the poems in my new book…

Tags art, Books, Connecticut Poet, drawing, dream poems, Jen Payne, McDreamy, painting, Poetry, Sleeping with Ghosts, Writing, writing about loss

Creativity Poetry

Sometimes Haunting

The specter
I never reveal
is in the line next to me
and I step back
as if to disappear
behind a display

only an illusion

funny, we were here
the last time I saw him
and he called out
across the parking lot
an apology that seemed sincere
but somehow haunting

I still hear it

The fraught words
admission of the time
he went a little crazy
so much I left lights on
and locked doors
listened for creaking floors

the ghost of a threat

If you like this poem, you’ll love the poems in my new book…

Tags art, Books, Connecticut Poet, Grief, Jen Payne, poems about writing, Poetry, rebirth, Sleeping with Ghosts, transition, Writing

Creativity Poetry

Overcoming

I’m afraid I stayed too late in dreams
this lovely autumn morning
turned and turned and turned again
because I was flying

Flying!

and I didn’t want to land,
become pedestrian
in the pursuits of the day

I wanted to keep flying

over the black sand beach
where it started

over the incoming tide
its waves no longer at my feet

over the jetty
where people stood and stared

I want to stay with the
monstrous effort of lifting,
of pushing the air like water
higher and higher
as if I was drowning before

and

perhaps

I was

Perhaps that —
all of that —
was just drowning
and this is rebirth
pushing and pushing and pushing

forward or up or through
blankets puddled on the floor
sun streaming through the window
the morning roaring
Get Up!

no matter that I already am

If you like this poem, you’ll love the poems in my new book…

Tags art, Books, Connecticut Poet, Grief, Jen Payne, poems about writing, Poetry, rebirth, Sleeping with Ghosts, transition, Writing

Creativity Poetry

Imposter Syndrome Soliloquy

Post author By Jen Payne
Post date October 17, 2024
No Comments on Imposter Syndrome Soliloquy

The review says my poems are accessible
and I know that is a gold star
on something so easily otherwise considered
not something one reads on the fly

though quite the contrary, one does or one can
I do anyhow
keep a dog-eared volume
within easy reach for a metered pause
now and then and again

The volumes change-out of course
famous old school to popular lowercase
he said, she said, now more they saids,
collections and anthologies and
the short-but-sweet chaps

Which is not to say they all get gold stars
some enhance my furrowed brow,
deepen the lines that live there,
make me close-up a book with a clap
some even, I confess, make me feel small
stupid, insipid, imposter

Like the time that Rogue Poet
infiltrated my writing group
and made us all feel somehow lacking
somehow not good enough
somehow not even poets

Like the time the Queen Bee
sat in the front row and watched
the little drone vibrate so much the mic shook
and the poems fell sharp and hard to the ground
and her look — just her look — said
you are not something one reads at all
ever, not even on the fly

I wonder sometimes if they were real,
the Rogue and the Queen Bee,
and not some amalgamation of my self
and all of her inner critics —
you are a fabrication, imitator, mutt
with no pedigree for poetry
stop now please

But someone — or someones —
think I am deserving of a gold star
5 stars sometimes too
with accolades and atta girls
and just enough kindness to make me feel
momentarily monumentally poetic.