Best Specter Poems
Each night my dreams have become a host
as darkness welcomes a drifting silhouette.
Dancing in candlelight, I see a spectral ghost.
In slumber, I hear him whisper. Is it a threat?
Frightened, I tremble, trying not to provoke.
My gown is now drenched with cold sweat.
From within shadows, the apparition spoke,
"Do not fear me, for I could not do you harm."
Each night, this was the moment when I woke.
But I'm still dreaming and take his offered arm.
We waltz in the glow of starlight until sunrise,
and I am spellbound by his wit and virile charm.
A phantom of mystery, but I can't see his eyes
as he holds me close in the pale light of morn.
His visage intrigues me, cloaked in dark disguise.
I woke to sounding chimes and I could have sworn
there lingered the scent of wood sage he had worn.
July 30, 2022 ~ Five Stanza Terza Rima Contest
Sponsor: L Milton Hankins
Beyond the Black Fence
By Sy Roth
The land lay fallow
Beyond the black fence.
Growth once dressed in a white blanket of hoar in winter landscapes
Lush in summer months
Deer speckled backdrop
Munched all day behind a scrim of lush camouflage
And black birds rested on the scrub
Coupled with the land and each other
A fornucopia of perpetuation.
But like time
It marched in to war on its own turf--
The cranes, yellow tractor-footed creatures
Tore at the soil and formed mountains of dirt
That wild (plants?) draped over
And the long-necked (?) concrete spreaders
Filled the gaping foundations with its gray slush
And the deer fled
And the black birds had resting places on the open rooftops
And the last trees crumbled to the diesel monsters
Where future houses will stack itself with the firewood
Of septuagenarians and those who aspire to end that race.
Incessant noise of change
A cock-a-doodle-doo alarm
On the other side of the black fence
My side where I find comfort in a book
And a drink to whet my appetite
And conjure up the images of the verdant green that once was
And the hoary land that once was my winter vista
Jeb was a veteran of the War of all wars,
When brother fought brother and families closed doors.
Wounded in battle in the year of sixty-one;
Four years before Gettysburg, fore' it just begun.
Jeb got a Medal of Honor two years ago;
Six months later he buried Anna in the snow.
A mason by trade, local tombstones his forte;
A loner by night, a master craftsman by day.
He lived in an old, clapboard excuse for a home,
Making his living, chiseling hard bedrock stone.
Each stone custom crafted with names of the deceased;
From a quarry, in the town's dangerous northeast.
A rocky splinter of land carved out of coarse stone,
In a place called Diablo, better left alone.
It was here that he'd come, first thing every morn,
When the daylight was with him; the day's mist airborne.
Copious creations completed correctly,
Any work Jeb finished, it was done adeptly.
None to be shipped until the final okay, and
Then only after, he firmly packed them in sand.
Jeb had always hoped that Anna would bear him an heir;
Now alone, there was no one with whom he could share.
Fortune never shined on this kind-hearted old man;
Knowing in his heart that death, could not be outran.
It is said that one day the dark reaper came, and
In the early dawn in the slippery upland,
Jeb fell to his death on an iron wagon below;
The old stone mason landed head down in the snow.
His skull was split open with much gory detail -
Birthed the Stonemason's Legend - a most morbid tale.
Folklore surrounded this magnified tragedy;
As the specter each night, retraces its journey.
You don't want to venture to the quarry at night;
You may find yourself slip with no one to indict.
The townspeople close their windows, just before dark;
Fear the Stonemason - his journey, now to embark.
August 5, 2016
A silent specter still as a statue,
Trapped in time,
Still and silent sitting on the window sill,
Pondering what she had done to become trapped in time,
Her long hair lifts off of her shoulders in a long forgotten wind,
Her curly red hair framing her beautiful face,
You can see the love determination and a fierce hope in her eyes,
Like a breeze over water her silent mournful cry for her angel lover,
And she shall long for him until judgment day comes.
Each night, while you lay breathing quietly,
I wander like a wraith through empty rooms
A phantom in both life and memory,
the ghost a long abandoned oath exhumes
I hover like a spirit over you
each night, while you lay breathing quietly,
so desperate to believe what isn't true,
I make the best of ambiguity
This specter in the mirror isn't me
These lines belong on someone elses face
Each night, while you lay breathing quietly,
it's loneliness that holds me in your place
My worth so long defined by your extremes;
extolled by love, or birched by perfidy,
I find it's just the first that haunts my dreams
each night, while you lay breathing quietly
Like a shadow of yesteryear
Kept hounding like a vexed specter
04/25/16
fog furtively moves
covering crusty damp earth
till sluggish sun soars.
Copyright © 2010
Fearing ghosts is not foolish if they are ghoulish
for evil specters might haunt you Halloween night
The Dark Specter by Morgana Von Ghoul (d.s.m.)
Deep in the forest black
Shadows crawl over my face
Stench and rot seeping crack
From whence did I come into this place?
Seething revenant walking quickly
Upon my back breathing deeply
Hair stands up goosebumps creeping
The dark specter grabs ahold
Hands gripping, pulling, snatching
Never knowing obscure and cold
Hang me over the pit
Hounds of hell growling
Undead fingers clawing
My flesh such an appeal
Slime and burning their acid touch
Vipers fangs bloody and dripping
The dark specter's sinister grin
Haunting the lives of ruthless men
Perchance I was one of their ilk?
Velvet legs of creatures walk upon me
Black widows spinning silk
Sharpness of light peering through
My mind is clearing
Feeling somewhat renewed
Eyes open rising up
Slithering beings deadly as nightshade
Taking on a hidden vocation
A wraith man made
King of night beasts
New leader of the macabre parade
This is my fate
The Dark Specter's trade.
Twined Her Spirits Orbiting Love's Night Their Milky Way, Sublime
Thule's, Scandinavian Gypsy Queens Ambrosia's Arcane, Sceptre She
Crowned Of Jewels Transexual Beads ? Avatar, This Heart Which Bleeds
Swirling Mass Creativity; When Worlds Collide Their Meant To Be ? Sappho.
Form:
To kiss so lovingly the morning mist
And watch intently shadows of the flame
To know the way the moon and the sun kissed
Is to meet the eyes of he with no name
And see within those worlds a fervent need
For souls, false souls, to fall, to crush, to gasp
That flashes in the back of but one greed
But is there not when it one tries to grasp
And like the asp that bites with a stinging pain
For what love could wear both a cloak and mask
And grow wings neither lovely nor mundane
Loving spectres is a Sisyphean task
For love is purest when it hits its mark
And lights great warmth in Hades dark.
Walking right through you
Like a specter of lost love
You'd hug if you could;
Even if you died for her,
She'd still be indifferent
A horror is born
Star of the show, The Zombie
Go and break a leg…
One, seemingly whole
Sound in mind, body and soul
Unaware the toll
The exacting price
Sins of the genetic splice
Specters claim last rights
Starts off slow and sure
Sneaking in through the back door
The Monster is born
It takes hold and grows
The Daemon show is begun
The Zombie is cast
With a grand entrance
The Daemon of Delusion
The Doppelganger
One is now possessed
As the players take the stage
Act one, Mania
Act two, Depression
Either act three or act four
Schizophrenia
Final act may be
Rage, could be Anxiety
Or Euphoria
Catatonia
Might make the final curtain
But can’t take a bow
The next performance
When the clock chimes whenever
The show must go on
Deep within the shell
There’s a desperate spirit
Crying for release
Trapped within a cell
A creature double feature
You, It, Them, Box…Keys?
One personal hell
Zombie infamous heaven
A dubious lot
Bottom of the well
Bloody, scratching and clawing
Too deep, slick and steep
Daemons dance macabre
Mind becoming a circus
Carnival freak show
Crimson spotlight bathed
At center ring a vile box
No keys, doors or locks
The dance is joined fast
By the Monster and the past
The Zombie is last
Torture all the while
The Monster plays on and smiles
You are now its child
Time for blood letting
Your mind you’ll be forgetting
It’s the begetting…
I stared at her hair as it glistened in the light summer rain;
I watched as it twirled and leaped in the gentle breeze.
I admired the sway of her hips, and the way that the soles
of her feet rose and fell, all in rhythm with the bounce of
her step. I enjoyed the image her porcelain-like skin, as
well as the dark shadow that it made on the uneven pavement.
I smiled as she smiled, and frowned as she frowned. I wished
for a moment of recognition, for an instance of eye contact,
but all in vain. In the shadows I remained-
a specter,
both devoid of life and full to the brim with it. She passed me,
the image of her being so engrained in my mind that I saw her even
with my eyes closed.
I followed.
I approached her slowly, as one would a wounded animal, afraid
that she would escape the depths of my passion.
I was consumed.
I stared once again at her wet hair, still beautiful even in its lack of motion.
I admired her stagnant hips and the upturned soles of her feet. I touched
her doll skin. It felt not of porcelain, but cold paper. I smiled at her shadow.
I envied her blank, lifeless eyes.
got what he wanted at my expense.
Said crack fast talking
hacker and scammer
pulled figurative wool over my eyes
going incognito and speaking a clipped
English mien his disguise.
He appeared (rather sounded) genuine
after yours truly experienced computer snafu
(the Macbook Pro essentially hogtied
courtesy virus that disabled any activity)
even turning the laptop off then on
only wrought frustration to boot.
An out of state Apple computer
technical support person impersonator
(imposter invariably linkedin
to aforementioned fraudster -
most likely brother in arms)
answered telephone number
provided on the screen.
Admonitions against sharing details
about case in point, whereby cyberpunk
donned many hats to convince me
serious computer virus,
malware, trojan horse, et cetera
counterbalanced with voice on other end
affecting sedulousness to "listen carefully"
and carry forth the following commands.
Yours truly trustingly,
passively, meekly, et cetera
(though feeling jittery)
carried out the repeated instructions,
which charlatan inveighed against
speaking softly (in retrospect,
I ought to have carried a big stick),
indicating (as if held at gunpoint)
to headout off to the Trappe branch
of Citizens Banks and withdraw cash
all the while recording verbal dialogue
with small, medium at large criminal
(the scam artist(s) in question).
Upon retrieving legal tender
(quite a wad), thee next entrapment
entailed driving to closest ATM machine,
an MP gas station/convenience store
in Collegeville to convert
high denomination bills
(a considerable number
of money crisp Benjamins)
into bitcoin cryptocurrency
then hightailing back to where I live,
an assisted living facility
named Highland Manor.
Finally, the schmegegge script
(incorporating ejaculations that
questionable hacker convinced me
to swallow hook, line and sinker)
alluded to strong likelihood
scam artist lurked in close proximity
to above named banking institution,
which divine comedy bumbling
Ace of spades, an inept card shark
anagram name (Meg Found)
left as crypto clue told.