On Halloween the ghosts
Were in full view
Haunting and trying to
Catch you
Whither shall I go—
Shall I haunt the willow
Drag my nails 'cross thy dewy window
Push the wicker chair to and fro?
These are all terrors that I know
What do the newly dead do
When there is nowhere
We would venture to
Or care feel despair
Or shed boo-hoos
Should I wait in the broom
Closet for you
Radiating gloom
Waiting to shout "boo!"
What do the newly dead do?
They said it would be fun
To watch the frightened run,
But so far that just isn't true
And maybe a little mean
From the little I've seen—
But hey, I'm new;
Maybe just one of the few
Who wishes there was something better
To do
Than scare another bed-wetter
Or ruin a new hairdo—
It's just all so boring
We sit 'round till morning
Then some awful cock crows
Ringing thro' fields and clear 'cross meadows
And everything just turns black—
And it's cold
And there's a smell—
Like putrid mold.
Well,
I guess it's better than hell,
But who the hell knows
are you brainwashed ? or is she sociopath ghost !
(Weekly Magnetic Poetry Challenge • September 21–27, 2026)
TRUMP IS HITLER’S GHOST
CRUELTY THEY BOTH CAN BOAST
BOTH END UP AS TOAST
Her three tall masts pierce through the gray,
Where swells of sapphire rise and fall;
She rides the deep in grand display,
Answering the high sea's wild, cold call.
Her canvas full, each sail blown tight,
Stretched firm beneath a heavy breeze,
She carves her way with graceful might,
Across the rolling, restless seas.
With rhythmic ease, the waters swell,
And lift her dark frame toward the sky,
While white-capped crests surrounding tell
Of rolling deeps as she glides by.
From high atop the crow’s nest railing,
A lookout spots gray shadows near—
A pod of whales, majestic, sailing
Beside the hull without a fear.
At helm stands Captain Jack, steadfast,
His weathered hand upon the wheel,
Reflecting on her storied past
And every seam of iron and steel.
Born in the fires of sea-bound lore,
Rebuilt from ash, reclaimed from fate,
The Black Pearl haunts the coast once more,
A ghost of legend, proud and great.
As the battalion races into battle
You can hear a Saber rattle
But as we charge with guns a blazing loud
He can be seen, leading the crowd
A Ghost on horseback brilliant white
In his suit of armor a scary sight
No one can believe their eyes it seems
He should only be seen in blood curdling dreams
But to us he is as real, as we are
Like us has traveled very far
Not in miles, but in time
Like a hero in a nursery rhyme
As we charge on and vanquish our foe
A thousand soldiers all in a row
He leads by example from the front
The cannon fire, he bears the brunt
Can the enemy see him we all think?
Or is it only us, and a curse of the drink
Imaginary or real boldly we wonder
We frightened soldiers in a politicians blunder
As the battle rages, he disappears as quickly as he came
And none of us even knew his name
August end
Welcoming Autumn cool breeze
Distributing new academic spiritual syllabus
Sun illuminates' life’s pondering campus
Deceased leaves spotlight beauty
Depart the world
Will return again
Alive and well
A Mother nature rebirth
Steeped in tradition
Tonight an escort holds a lantern
Ready to guide me
Through the early fall dark
Star less night
Wanting another day
“Do not be afraid
Future arrives soon
And you will have your historical spirit”
This I remember
Getting ready to haunt
Those who need answers
More than gold
Introducing closure
Honest strong treasure
Discovered through
Exploring resting peace
This I am told
After ghost orientation 101
Septet II
Wind strips bark.
Rust stains the white skin.
Ghost gum breathes and a branch breaks
What broke has made room for coloured wings.
New leaves stir above the scar.
The trunk keeps breathing.
Green wings rise.
Septanelle
Bark strips leave white.
Winds rush past, branches bare.
White trunk reflects the fading evening light.
Birdsong fills air.
Rainbows come from out west.
Lorikeets find hollows to make a nest.
Green wings take flight.
Saraband
Aging branch crashes to the ground.
Eerie silence follows the sound.
A gaping hole can now be found.
Hollow in the tree can be seen.
Lorikeets arrive as a pair.
Hollow cradles a nest unseen.
Birdsong now echoes through the air.
Hanging out on stage a gentle ghost,
I hear you as rookie hands play guitar.
There’s a hint of devil in an angel’s solo.
Wrapped up in someone else’s solo,
he was too lost to jam without your ghost.
The fish was caught as he held the guitar.
Animated by the strings on your guitar
maybe he knew it was never his solo.
Hard rain blew in and woke that ghost
I’m haunted by the ghost of a guitar solo.
Big ghosts have small ghosts
in their dreams to haunt ‘em,
Small ghosts have smaller ghosts
and so-on ad infinitum
A mystery
Through space and time,
A puzzle that riddles minds.
Hope without despair,
Here but never there,
A voice within the air
Heard from everywhere.
Soft, but hardened too;
A nail without the glue;
A shadow in the flame;
A spark without a name.
Truth that can’t be bind,
Left burning in the mind.
Poetry is what I do;
I am ETW
Sun-streaked topaz,
of faint silhouette,
woman gulping phrases,
uncanny mirror’s orbital,
of resonance,
in blind recess,
seeing, hearing icicled image,
psychic blobs melt,
in close locus,
hair-raising halo,
hallucinate my opal eyes,
sultry smokescape,
furnace of,
walnut garland,
from ambling weeper,
whose shaken trauma,
I shudder and pine for,
at red coal pit of,
my abdominal agony,
this lava veiled,
human’s sideswipe,
“you remind me of someone,”
whilst being eclipsed,
by vanilla vapours,
in a hazy billow,
rippling stream heart,
inducing isthmus of,
harrowing bereavement,
blue vault fluke
surreal concoction,
shrouded in mystique,
enigmatic shroud,
shrouded pang,
otherworldly episode
Sun-streaked topaz,
of faint silhouette,
woman gulping phrases,
uncanny mirror’s orbital,
of resonance,
in blind recess,
seeing, hearing icicled image,
psychic blobs melt,
in close locus,
hair-raising halo,
hallucinate my opal eyes,
sultry smokescape,
furnace of,
walnut garland,
from ambling weeper,
whose shaken trauma,
I shudder and pine for,
at red coal pit of,
my abdominal agony,
this lava veiled,
human’s sideswipe,
“you remind me of someone,”
whilst being eclipsed,
by vanilla vapours,
in a hazy billow,
Philippine folklore amuses me
A shapeshifting ghost, an aswang you be
A fierce ghoul, not unlike a white vampire
Terrific tale to tell beside a new bonfire
sepia letters rest
time folded into silence
secrets they won’t tell
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