Placed Second in: A spooky Haunted Poem 8-12 Line of Rhyme Poetry of Tania Kitchin
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Haunted Cemetery Carved stones stand in a silent place, The moon sparkles on every face, Not live faces, but carved in bones, Where whispers warp and shadows moan. On moonlight nights, near tangled trees, Spirits roam, with their will quite free, Beseeching stuffs from passers-by, Rolling their tongues with a blunt sigh. One night, close by the graveyard`s gate, A spirit in white, crossed my fate, Pleading for a candle as gift, I took to my heels, with a rift.
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