Best Ghostly Poems
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O’ crooked branch and magpie’s claw,
yon rusted chains a’ sway this night
Clutch tight a sign “The Seagull's Squall”
of splintered wood and storm clouds fight
Old tavern lone this craggy shore
where angered waves accost the sand
and drenching rains from heavens pour,
whilst thunder boasts its loud command
On creaking stools with painted legs
'long the bar, a gathered crew
Expected flow from aging kegs
a frothy crown this lagered brew
Fills tankards held of one now gone
'midst pewter death in golden ale
In drunk'n stupor sorrows shown
lost at sea, his soul last sailed
Watching cloaked of shadowed mist
in darkened corner, lingered smoke
O’er long goodbyes on echoes twist
and couraged voices soundly spoke
Weaving tales a' journeys past,
voyages beyond the deep
Ports o’ call and forth day cast,
of treasures that abound to reap
When one, a glass above his head
beckons silence, moments slow
Respect, our mate now swallow'd dead,
entombed within the depths below
Then hearty cheers and farewell speak,
this touching scene if one would be
A ghostly tear now falls my cheek,
this fallen mate they cheer is me
All one will ever need is you everlasting loyalty
where a thousand teardrops are sourced
glistening gems from the fountain they shall fall
with the grace adorned beauty held within
That of a single tune striking cords deeply
Kissed by the oceans is the salt contained
In wild seas it's there phantoms of the past nightshades
driven by ghosts is the tides turning current
Crashing waves hurled by the breath exhaled
tempest of the storm you carry away footprints
where all that remains is the shell of your being
bleached through the sands of time
on a ghostly night
princesses and "kiddy" cats -
alongside monsters -
scamper without a care
beneath a Halloween moon
Sept. 25, 2019
for Chantelle Anne Cooke's Halloween Moon Poetry Contest
In dreams she reaches for me,
She is me and I am her;
We walk a cemetery,
And she leads the way.
We stand at a mossy tomb,
And I see my name engraved;
I am her and she is me,
But which is living.
_________________
November 7, 2015
Dodoitsu
One night about 25 years ago
I was sat in my car at Cothelstone
Dx-ing on my CB radio in the wee hours
when my two dogs started to growl
every hair on their bodies on end
a most putrid smell entered my car
I heard the sound of hoofs churning
knowing it must be the headless horseman
I kept my eyes down as 't is said death comes
to those who look Thor in the eyes.
I was unwilling to drive away
as earlier I had erected an antenna
outside of the car fixed to a tree
the smell was almost over powering
and I could feel its gaze upon me
it felt as if Thor was willing me to look
my dogs were whimpering then howling
no way was I raising my eyes oh no!!
'T was but an hour or so till dawn
slowly the smell faded and my dogs calmed down
As soon as it was light enough
I let them out and got the antenna down
vowing never again to spend a night here
thoroughly spooked by this experience
I looked around and saw churned ground
with clear hoof prints as the horse had
milled around my car, calling back my dogs
who gladly jumped in, we drove off
I have returned since but only in daylight
DX-ing long distance radio contacts
this is a true story there are many tales of Thor the headless horseman who rides the
hills from East Quantockhead through Shervage Wood past Will's Neck through
Cothelstone to the Quantock edge and back all agree if you look into his eyes within
a few weeks you will be pushing up the daisy's. All I can say is I have seldom been so terrified
The ghostly grippe on Zorro's goolies,
as the ghostly footsteps fall,
some old bugger called d'hoolie,
jerked his chain and was not enthralled,
gelded by the facination,
would he get her would he fall,
rising, falling, flaccid, hesitation,
Zorro needs some other's balls....
Don
GHOSTLY DAD
new year’s eve
a ghostly frost coats his chair
front porch so still
car horns downtown
turn back the clock
new year’s eve
no moon no starry night
no dad to share
in a sudden breeze
a leaf floats down from somewhere
early new year’s eve
the last trolley car dings by
that long yellow row
if he’s aboard
he doesn’t get off
new year’s eve
late cold coming in
clear as a bell
he points
the big dipper
on new year’s eve
dad and brother made ice cream
mom put on her new coat
i got one too
the vanilla stain still there
Dave Austin
Ghostly presence seen nightly
When lighthouse illumes brightly
Fishermen claim to see her
Confounded old tars concur
Her lover swallowed at sea
by fierce waves, old tars agree
Lighthouse beam, sailors concur
Was gone, not even a blur
March 15, 2019
For Charlie’s Jueju-Qijue With A Twist Contest
Pitter Patter on my wall, who is it
I hear call.
In my room I sit alone
but I hear you send me a
friendly bong.
Are you telling me a tale
of all who has stayed here alone
as well.
Oh my friendly titter tatter,
won't you tell me what is a
matter.
Are you lonesome too? or is it
just a ghostly boo.
Asking me to notice you.
ALARMING GHASTLY GHOSTLY HOST--
I saw an alarming ghost,
It wasn't all by choice;
I saw a scary spectre,
swapping alarming for scary...entomb host;
swapping ghost for the spectre,
gravesite loyal protector;
~
I saw an alarming ghost;
I heard a ghastly ghost,
swapping alarming for a ghastly scary loyal host;
6/12/19
Marooned on a tropical isle
I'm captive to an angry sea.
And it feels an eternity
imprisoned here without a key.
Loneliness saturates my heart,
but the rising tide ignores me.
For the waves cannot feel my pain
and have no wish to set me free.
I oft see a ghostly mirage,
like a vision that haunts my dreams.
For it appears to be so near,
and yet, no one answers my screams.
A tie-dyed sky's clouding over,
another storm is on its way.
And it's time that I sought shelter,
for tomorrow might be the day.
Sleep promises to rescue me
but fails to take me from this place.
And just as soon as my eyes close,
tears start to trickle down my face.
(Quatrain)
9/19/2015
There once was a ghost from the past
Who thought being dead was a blast
He screeched down a hall
Causing one girl to fall,
And now her right leg's in a cast!
Poesy- Raul Moreno's Picture
Witchly warts, indeed
a rare find, carve out the seeds-
Halloween horror!
It is time for them to run
In the Jersey Shore tourist sun
Continuing their three-year-old campaign
Feeling the warmth of youthful fame
Before being sent out to be studs
And replaced by next year’s Kentucky rose buds
Haskell Day is here
Patrons arrive looking for some hugging and cheer
Complimentary hats, losing tickets and a tear
From Sinatra to Springsteen
Thoroughbred adolescents with a celebrity dream
Four legged athletes maturing fast
Experience a tradition steeped in the twin river community past
Historically owners once took on the NFL with an AFL fight
Wearing track colors green and white
Phil, Sonny and sparkly clean Leon pumping gas named Hess
They played Orange Super Bowl chess
Making the Colts confess
Then welcomed Baltimore
Saying ‘let the Giant Washington team show you the door’
When the leagues got married
Suddenly networks wanted games to carry
Donnie Mc Beth, Craig Peret and Julie Krone
Someone may want to get the press and ledger on the phone
This is going to be some race
Media may want to give the finish line photo some space
Distanced at a mile and eight
Curved turns and stretches where they run straight
In the end
Winners and losers head over to reporters to defend
Applause rings out
Congratulations are shout
Exceptionally large ponies get sponge baths
Picture taken with smiles and laughs
Soon night life will arrive
Crowds leave dining options they do cry
Prime rib featured inside the Squire’s Pub
Or a boardwalk hot dog grilled by Mrs. Max’s counter hub
No racing tomorrow
Is no horror
Since it is sun day
Ocean beach time is what they say
Surf Rider or Ship Ahoy
Trade wind clubbing a Garden State joy
Direction's do state across the street from the Sea Bright Rum Runner
And perfect together during a Monmouth Park seasonal summer
For the last time I think I've escaped
Your gratutituous number munching
But then as quick as a high-def blink
I'm back in the barn with the cannibals
Flesh mongering mammals
With digits tied to mandibles
Trodding through robotic arenas
Without a finite-sniffing clue
Battery unplugged, feet pressed to rugs
They land proud on towels
Wondering about next meals
What deal could peel back some onion flesh?
Salamanders finance the change
Or simply rearrange the same
Tug boating at a new horizon
Still consuming ghosts and roaches till the end of time