Best Imaginationhouse Poems
All is not as it seems
No not any bad dreams
For this is so much worse
For I am the one living this curse.
This house comes alive at night
It is enough to give you a fright!
You see the ghosts in all their glory.
Makes you wonder of their story.
There is the ghostly two
That love to scare you.
They close all the doors
And will open all the drawers.
They make the lights go off and on
They will do this from dusk 'til dawn.
Oh but do not think that once it is light
That you are free of ghostly blight.
There is the gent who gets you trouble
When he causes the bath to overlow with bubble.
Or when he knocks the plant on the floor
It is your tush that Mom makes very sore.
The one in the basement gives the adults the creeps
But us kids he must have thought of as sheeps
For there he let us have our play
But the grown ups there was hell to pay.
For our stepbrother would never tell
Of what horrors he saw or of what hell.
But you hear the ghost loudly cackle
Whenever Jake says his fear he will tackle.
Winter comes in with a burst
But each snow fall that is first
You will see footprints on the ground
And the house they go around.
But no one has left the house
Not even that little brown mouse.
No footprints upon the porch or any step.
We all know as we just look and say "Yep."
But Harry is the best
He is better than the rest.
For he is there to protect.
He is easy to detect.
Just follow the practical jokes
He loves to pull on folks.
Like the one very unusual time
My socks appeared at the drop of a dime.
The ghosts do come out at night
And love to give you a devilish fright.
They love to send you lots of chills
For your screams to them are thrills.
I love this house and yet
Even with Harry I do so fret.
For the others can only be held at bay
For so long before we ALL pay.
In a sleepy old hamlet in Northeastern Maine
on old Knob Hill Road, there is a house,
a very old house,Victorian I think with
with what looks like old bell towers on either end
But they aren't really bell towers at all, I guess
you could say they look like spooky old watch
towers, or if your imagination were to run away
old dungeon towers, none the less spooky.
It's been said that strange things have happened
in that old house over many years, many, many years
Sightings of ghosts and apparitions, paranormal things
that of owners past perhaps, screams in the night
There are those who say, they saw lights on
over those many years, but really that would mean man made
There has been no electricity there in two decades
or has it? No one can really say for sure, alive that is!
All these sightings have only been seen from the front gate
and some from the back gate as well, no-one has ever entered
there has been no-one alive past the front gates in a long time
Not in the house on old Knob Hill Road.
So, when I arrived in that sleepy little hamlet my first
stop was the Police station, well they call it constables office
I didn't know any of those still existed anymore, I guess it
shows that old practices still do exist, I guess!
I wanted permission to enter that old house, on Old Knob Hill Road
I was really looking for the owner and figured this was a start
what I was met with was bewilderment and laughter
all of which was at my expense, They all thought I was nuts I guess
I met up with Constable Danforth, Chief Constable, actually the only
one. He said in his quaint New England accent, Thar hasn't been a
soul on that property in nearly eighty yaars now. The town owns the
property and the house, we wanted to tear it down, but couldn't.
I asked why of course, Well no-one will go near the old place
say it's haunted and evil, things like that. Well I said that is
exactly what I am here to find out, that's what I do.
Search for hauntings and evil places to prove reality or fiction.
Please don't mind the mis-spellings they are for accent purposes only, such as
yaars is actually years...Maine style..Continued in Pt. 2
Abandoned house isolated with cracked walls
Aberration emerging forth from the natural terrain
Red and black roofs of the village nearby almost seeming a beacon of civilisation
The wood boarded lower rotting windows and barred doors
Faded moth eaten curtains a cynical beauty of zephyred gossamer
The time long years doing their gentle but remorseless work
Inside the house light denied world now given to insects and rodents
Left to do nothing but eat and all gone now consume just themselves
Wintertime wind whistles and rain seeps in through gaps
Kept once a garden dissembling now in its own fertility
Nature kindly putting forth hated nettles burrs and docks
By lack of care a garden that is there now seeming to wildness
What now is there left of a man what was there ever
But everything unnatural now reduced to its former glory
Outside the lovely wild garden flowers
The reds of Foxglove Ragged Robin and sweet Herb-Robert
Bright suns yellow the Lesser Celandine and Creeping Buttercup
Butterflies alighting on blue Willow Gentian and Large Venus Looking Glass
So I began my dayfeeling rather gay and like my life was full of potential.
So set out on a journey filled with lots of exciting adventures.
I snatched the giant paper from the table along with a purple ruler and I conjourded up a
plan for my grand adventure.
This adventure is huge like nothing before and I fear the
consequences of messing up my plans for my expensive rocketship.
Yes I said a rocketship that is my grand adventure to go to the moon and meet the people.
I hear stories of these folk and I am rather intreged and that is why i find the cardboard box
big enough to hide my dreams and carry out my schemes.
To some it seems rather silly but you can call me Billy, Billy the astronaut is what they will
call me.
I grab my crayons and make my knobs and the gages under the window.
I run into the house and crab the glue so my rocketship can hold the gas that will take me to
the moon.
I put my helmet on and i open up the door.
To some this may just be a flap but to me it holds the key.
The key to a new and unfamiliar place one that I will explore.
Once i tune into the captain he gives me the go.
He counts down from ten and the adventure begins.
Once he says that magic word my rocketship takes off.
I soar into the sky way up high and i way good bye to my mommy and cry just a little tear.
I fear that these people might find my coulture so unique.
Find me rather odd and attach tubes to both my feet.
They will read my mind and find my rocketship is small, they send me home with a
boy name Joe and off to my house we go.
Once we arrive it all is very clear "Billy the Astronaut" they cry "you have come back alive!"
I scream "I am not alone this is my new friend Joe! Joe is from the moon you see and has
come to teach us things.
Things that will save our world lets all greet him with peace!"
They all smile and greet my new friend.
My rocketship has been lots of fun and now i have come to know, just how much fun one
Can have when he thinks of fun.
My rocketship is in my room awaiting its next trip.
I love my rocketship you see so next we'll go to Mars and Ill bring my friends the stars.
The stars from mars my rocketship will make this possible.
So I smile happily
For I am Billy the Astronaut and the people all love me.
There was a mouse who liked to roam,
Because he didn’t have a home;
But he checked around and found one nice,
That had all the comforts needed to suffice.
Now the man of the house didn’t like mice,
He agreed with the thought they weren’t very nice;
So he went to town and bought a gun,
And brought it home to have some fun.
The man of the house had a cat named Kitty,
She had spots and wasn’t too pretty;
So Kitty saw the mouse and tried to pounce,
But the mouse saw Kitty and tried to bounce.
Now the mouse was starved but found some cheese,
But the cheese he found made him sneeze;
The sneeze was so loud the man came running,
But the mouse went to hide because he was cunning.
The man ran with his gun right through the door,
While the mouse kept running around the floor.
He cocked his gun and shot at the mouse,
And the smoke from the gun filled the whole house.
But the mouse kept running filled with surprise,
Because all the man hit were blue bottle flies.
And Kitty the cat was scared out of her wits,
She went down to the basement and threw some fits.
Now the man was upset and not having fun,
So he called the poor mouse a son of a gun;
But the mouse was glad with no reason to be sad,
For the man with the gun was really mad.
Then and Now
I knew an old fellow that lived all alone,
He wasn’t very friendly and they said his heart was made of stone.
In an unpainted house up on Quigley Hill was where he stayed,
The kids on our block called the place haunted and most were afraid.
His old yard was a mess, filled with weeds and cluttered with junk,
They said there were graves out back, that he’d chop up people and bury them in old trunks.
Well being the ripe old age of twelve, I just had to have me a look see,
The old gate creaked as I pulled on it to let me in, then I broke and ran for the cover of
an old oak tree.
Then quiet as a mouse I turned and there he stood,
He grabbed my arm and said, reckon you’d be up to no good.
My little heart sunk cause I knew he was going to put me in one of those trunks,
Off to his old house we went and he said, been watch’n you and those other little punks.
He said boy ain’t you got nothing better to do than go around bother’n folk,
An old Model T sat next to the back of the house and one the wheels had a broken spoke.
He said boy do you know what they do to trespassers in these parts,
I couldn’t even make a sound and where he had hold of my arm was starting to smart.
He said I’m gonna show you what I do so maybe you youngun’s will leave me be,
Up to his old attic we went and I got to tell ya, I was getting mighty shaky in my knees.
Then he flew open the door and there was the biggest telescope I ever did see,
He said I’m an astronomer for the government and they pay my fees.
Well he said I’m not a meanie and if you’d like I’ll let you take a look,
It was awesome like things I’d once seen in a book.
He said you and your little buddies are welcome to come by and look, but no more sneaking
around,
Well the old guy got to be the best friend a bunch of kids have ever found.
In return for his niceness, we cleaned up his old yard and whitewashed his old place,
Looking back on memories, and how we make judgments on people without even knowing their case.
I’ve learned not to be too hasty in the way I view people today,
Before I draw a conclusion I at least let them have their say.
I got a big promotion
I supervise my crew
I'm the one who leads them
And tells them what to do
We tear down vacant houses
So new buildings can be built
Nobody ever lives there
So, we're never filled with guilt
The first house that we worked on
Was such a big surprise
This beautiful house stood empty
I could hardly believe my eyes
The yard was filled with flowers
It even had a swing
A dinner bell was on the porch
I could almost hear it ring
A smile came across my face
As a tear rolled down my cheek
To destroy all these memories
Truly made me weak
An oil stain in the driveway
Where a truck would sometimes sit
A patio in the backyard
Where the grill was often lit
There was even a swimming pool
Where the kids could all get wet
Truly, a place of happiness
That no one could forget
Asking me to tear this down
Was more than I could give
For this is where I grew up
The place I used to live
On a hill stood the mansion,
with a landscape that looked neglected
and too frail to mention,
The entrance was winding,
missing the tiles that used to adorn,
The cascading vines looked droopy and
forlorn,
Inside, the floor boards were shaky
and the furniture heavily laden with dust,
the particles were so think,
Their formations were like crust,
The chandelier swung eerily from its
socket,
On one of its tiers hung a discarded
locket,
Enclosed was a picture of the Belle of the
house, who died, frightened by a displaced
mouse......,
The cobwebbs were still lingering in her parlour,
where she sung and played the piano,
All throughout the house her serenades were heard,
The attic was inhabited by birds,
They all flittered away once the attic door was opened,
The stained glass windows seemed to emanate shadows,
squirling around behind the scenes,
The creaking of the floors conjured up nightmares or
overactive dreams,
When the closets were opened, blood poured like a bubbling river,
causing the tourists to shake and shiver,
It all seemed to be a bit much, when the comb started dancing with the
brush,
The house was vacated in less than a minute,
leaving only a mute standing cluelessly in it.
Form:
Every house has a history,
some come with apparitions
and latent memories,
Yet, the house that comes alive
from a simple spirit,
wreaks havoc while occupants
are in it,
Manifestations of a stigmata begins
when the house wants to confess
the previous owners' sins,
Plaguing its new inhabitants with
all sorts of woes from their heads
to their toes,
Mischievous games of hide 'n' go seek,
confusing utensils and items in the path
of the metaphysical,
The only help that soothes are biblical verses,
without those holy words the plagues worsen,
Once the stories have been told and spirits get
released,
The evil that exists decide it's time to leave.......