Best Spectre Poems
Beauty that is mirrored is that beauty?
Absent love leads phantom duty
My running pen speaks not so bright
In its ink hide ghosts by night
It’s intimate with willing paper
White bond drinks up all black vapor
The curves, the contours, strokes—I gape!
Appear in spectral words of shape
And whisper sounds from verse I fashion
But lacking substance, wraith-like passion
Attempts the work of a lover missing
Does not convince my lip she’s kissing.
Knowledge
Reasoning
Wisdom
four masted schooner
eerily drifts on the waves
smugglers sip on rum
October firmly sits
awaiting the imminent arrival
of Hallows Eve. It creeps
ever closer, and so too my ghosts.
Skeletons long packed away
play percussion solos with my coat hangers.
The closed door muffles its cacophony,
but soon others may notice the bus for freedom.
Pandora’s box has nothing on my closet!
Phantom images haunt my sleep.
Though once I worshiped you,
you never achieved sainthood
despite the ephemeral nature of your love.
Your corporeal tastes are definitely earthy,
even if we glimpsed Heaven.
Be gone, Damn Thoughts!
Drift away on the autumn zephyrs;
find another house to haunt
another marriage to taunt.
You are no longer welcome here.
The porch light is turned off;
the candy dish is empty.
Take your treats and
go trick someone else.
Join the parade of ghouls
trailing away down the street.
One more spectre won't be noticed
in the Halloween crowd, so
Take your memories, and
get the f**k out!
Under centuries of sediment
Tramped by stalwart feet
And twenty-two layers of blood
Laid down like concrete
From crunching force ambivalent
To this mottled seat
Dangles a shepherding spirit
Bathed in phantom mist
Playing on strings of circumstance
When souls coexist
With delusional flesh taunting once
So violently kissed
Until caressed in the nexus,
Songs resonating
In harmonic tempo profound
Patiently waiting
For the transitional gauntlet
Nature’s creating.
Moon concealed by shadow of Grim Reaper
Under guise of the gloomy clouds of storm –
Reason enough to stay at home and not
Dread the deadly, wary walk at midnight.
Eerie noises from the rumbling thunder,
Rats scuttling and skittering to find shelter.
Intense and impassioned fear crept in as she
Neared the steps leading to the tunnel.
The tunnel! She disregarded, or had forgotten,
How dark and dangerous to walk alone,
Envisaging the glint of that murderous knife.
The tunnel! She knew she shouldn’t go
Until daylight and remembered her final trip.
Nearer and nearer she silently crept
Not heeding her internal warnings to flee.
Evermore replaying, she will wander at midnight
Leaving ruby blood tears among crystal raindrops.
The Spectre
I saw the spectre cross the hall
But when I looked into that space
I saw there was nothing there at all.
I saw a shadow upon the stair
As I stood in that haunted place
And shivered in the evening air.
Footsteps creaked upon the floor,
With a slow and shuffling pace,
The scratching of a ghostly claw.
Then I felt its dreaded cold embrace
And in the dusk, upon my face,
Its fingers left their chilling trace.
But in the mirror upon the wall
I saw there was nothing there at all.
Spectre! Spectre! dreadful sight
haunting tombs all hallows night
my mortal eye fears to see
are you in the cemetery?
wafting through murky midnight mist
'tween head stones do you twist?
in my ear do you bemoan?
would you terrorise one alone?
and how shocking, how maligned,
have you twisted my once sane mind?
and when my heart begins to beat
will I run on leaden feet?
that your cackle? your rattling chain?
what asylum's in my brain?
that your claw? such iron grasp
will I flee its icy clasp?
Archangel Michael felt the scars,
when Satan threw down the stars,
Did imps smile their work now through?
Did He who made the Lamb make you?
Spectre! Spectre! dreadful sight
haunting tombs all hallows night
my mortal eye fears to see
are you in the cemetery?
Everything Halloween contest
25/9/13
How broken would a sad heart be
to know it haunts your dreams
Looming like a shadow o'er
your new love's fragile growth
Would it cry out in despair to hear
your thoughts and muffled screams
Or calmly pull its dagger out
and swiftly kill you both
How broken would a sad heart be
if trapped inside your head
To linger like a candle's scent
still burning in the dark
Would it douse you in its icy tears
or drown itself instead
Or take its leave to set you free
without a single mark
The Spectre of sex appeal by Salvador Dali 1934
On the right-hand bottom side, we see Dalí as a
child, dressed as a sailor, observing his monstrosity
I misunderstand, tell what is the plan
As I change from juvenile into man
Her formation intrigues and repulses
Instead of control, there are impulses
Her head morphs upon a backdrop mountain
Sack cloth breasts, stem flow of sandy fountains
Solid rock womb, born of imperfection
The spectre miscarries, sans reflection
Propped up and falls forward in painful lurch
Composite pieces, on acceptance search
Ossified limbs, mangled bone skewers stone
Destined to experience life alone
She poses in pain and reeks of decay
I stand with a hoop, brought along to play
Ignores my advances, falling apart
I’ll return with barbed wire to bind her heart
No more cushioned stumps or flailing crutches
Unraveling her knots, where flesh touches
I’ll fashion a cross and burial mound
Existence fades as parts crash to the ground
Parts don’t stay buried, so I light a fire
Warm them back up, on a funeral pyre
My god she’s beautiful, I’m overcome
We join together in flames, curse undone
An
Old man
Appears as
Mischief spectre
In abandoned wood house, in full moon night
Example For Enchanted House Poetry Contest
5-21-2016
From trembling scorn stained lips,
ashen cheek tear-streaked from woe.
Jealousies' rancid inheritance,
mournful Banshees’ eternal concerto
Feigned compassion mists a dead smile,
Innuendos' bitterest honeyed embrace.
Breath tinged with your poisoned reprieve
Sirens symphony of shameful disgrace
Bronzed skin glistens tarnished,
Sun spun curls chlorine sheened.
Carnal fantasies careen off her flesh,
on Harpies' wings, your spirit eternally gleaned.
Bosom panting gently, nightmare in disguise,
Pestilence whispered sweetly, caution finally thrown.
Gazing into cyclone eyes you feel the sentiment grow,
Forever in her Medusan stare your soul now cast in stone.
Violently broken, but peacefully reclined upon concrete;
It's body lies in repose as the passerby quickly glances
at then quickly away from death's sullen stare.
Once proud in life, it still maintains an aura of grace and poise.
Even though rigor mortis had begun to entomb this
frail and shattered corpus.
Days and nights, the conditions of the weather nor the emotions
of every living specimen on this sphere, holds any significance
to this astral injected spectre.
Whose only offense was to fly headlong into society's
structured ways of life.
Which brought this creature's unscheduled death.
Three legs,
four eyes,
five hands,
and two heads,
they could not beleive,
he was there,
and born,
but they had to,
when they saw him ahem!,
what could they do,
look bewildered and flat,
and in shock do a full spat,
they walked around,
looked him full,
it was an average hour,
they spent with him,
in single or groups,
then they returned,
very seldom to come back,
to work their lives,
with two legs,
two eyes,
two hands
and a head.
It was by the bed
that I first saw him-
raw and lucid-
stripped down to the strings.
I would've sworn
the melody was for me
though the notes
stung with such
force and pain-
when I tried to sing out,
I swallowed my tongue.
he would dance rings
around me,
like blood running
through the veins
of a fiddle-
on the floor and
in the air
like a gentle locomotive.
just like me to be
mortal and impatient-
try to lasso
a soul who is meant
to embody as many
girls as it takes to
fuel his iron voice.
in the passing days,
I'll remember how silly
to take a trip
with the dead
and how I once
fell in love
with a ghost and
his guitar.