A Ghost Story
In a corner of my village, where old teaks creak,
Where their feathery green leaves, with breeze, secrets speak;
Near these none, even at noon ever dare to go,
It's believed that at night ghosts has their fashion-show...!
A youth happen to see it; so soon he fell dead.
Anyone who witnessed had to die; stories said;
None, hence, took the risk; teaks grew so strong, stout and wild,
Fancies, as though facts, about ghosts hill-like got piled...!
Puzzle-provoked some men went investigating,
Got annihilated in grievous ghost-baiting;
City dwellers who came to cut the teaks fainted,
Ghosts got their frail physical frames tarnish-tainted...!
One learned youth, could not bear these tales at all,
To reveal truths and lies of ghosts he felt a call;
As though an owl, at pitch dark, unknown did he slid,
Strong-willed, fearless, beside the age-old well he hid...!
At one in the morning he saw the widow walk,
The cast-off village-thief follows; they sit and talk;
Smile; laugh; hug; kiss; coitus endlessly does soar,
As though limits of heaven and hell are no more...!
The widow, on beliefs old, banned to remarry,
He, just once failed, this bad name condemned to carry;
These, indeed, are modern ghosts, the youth understood,
Unloved loving at darkest night under teak-wood...!
Under other trees, he found others as days went,
Unlearning the foolish myths, many nights he spent;
These, he did not reveal anyone; as he felt:
Unloved must love on; though village in blind faith dwelt...!
22 July 2022
One In Five 2 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Joseph May
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