Long Ghost town Poems
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Each town has it’s own Heart Beat: Thump, Thump- Thump, Thump.
And All can go astray when doing wrong feels so right.
A young man came in contact with the police… and has died.
So the town decided to protest, drawing others from the outside.
Everything got out of hand, and escalated, throughout the night.
Businesses destroyed, homes robbed, fires, it wasn’t a pretty sight.
The innocent bystanders have decided to move away, in droves.
The businesses are losing customers, as to safety so many go.
Eventually, businesses will also leave, for customers they must have.
The area will become blighted, where a good home once could be had.
Each town has it’s own Heart Beat: Thump, Thump- Thump, Thump.
And All can go astray when doing wrong feels so right.
Police and their families are being threatened, as they try to understand.
But they see that they must guard at night, all which continues to stand.
The Newsmen are stirring things up, as to the National News they go.
Of course we need to know the plight of all, as they stir up more woes.
Protesting the freedom, to protest at night, hasn’t helped stop the fights.
More will be leaving the area, cause they don’t want to live too close.
It’s the innocents who continue to suffer, if the town becomes a ghost.
It could end in a moment, or be like the fighting, in the Middle East.
Each town has it’s own Heart Beat: Thump, Thump- Thump, Thump.
And All can go astray when doing wrong feels so right.
It all depends on everyone’s understanding of when it’s time to stop.
It depends on the understanding: of when something wrong feels right.
Rioting, Looting, and Protesting can’t add anything good to the mix.
But adding outsiders and hatred to it, can totally destroy all, in the end.
There are brave hearts, wanting to stop what’s going on, to get along
The outsiders control the scene, as with sadness, the good back down.
It seems to have a life of it’s own, pushed from outsiders out to win.
But the only thing they’ll win, is a ghost town, for those left within.
Each town has it’s own Heart Beat: Thump, Thump- Thump, Thump.
And All can go astray when doing wrong feels so right.
Remember: Be careful what you do, when feelings seem so right.
CSEastman Written 8-15-2014… ‘A bystander, very close by’
In a beautiful land far across the ocean,
People used to celebrate Christmas all year round,
Trees along the streets adorned with flickering lights;
Down the cities were malls seethed with shoppers…
All in frantic, but no harm in their enjoyment of time.
Grandiose buildings and churches,
Stood magnificently as the music of the season played;
Lanterns were hanging on walls as church bells ring,
Announcing the season of birth of Christ the King.
A dazzling panorama of the whole place,
With the nearby sea on its serenity and calmness;
The aromatic freshness and coldness of yuletide’s zephyr,
Giving resplendent smiles- rhythm of iridescent glow in ones’ eyes.
As people enjoyed from morning to Christmas eve
Children’s laughter exuded with the gifts they received
They sang joyfully with thanksgiving on caroling
A herald on the season of love in a spirit of giving.
Time came in the beautiful land far across the ocean,
When people didn’t have any single clue of the dangers to come,
A week before the season with no ominous sign,
Trees on streets were washed out in an instant;
A gigantic catastrophe passed by engulfing everyone
Mangled and jostled into darkness where they’re hard to be found,
At snap of fingers… is there another joyful Christmas time?
Grandiose building and churches,
Turned out into a mass grave with flickering candles;
Flowers were scattered where each body laid,
Mourning of their fate…a rescue they begged
All praying for mercy of Christ our only Savior and King.
At vantage point was a horrible scene of a ghost town,
Where green trees and buildings seemed thrown in garbage cans
Marred souls were wafted in stale air…
Starvation and unseen love ones, they grieved.
Just in time came in a devastated land across the ocean,
A miracle happened in His Love Divine
Sympathy and passion reigned in the heart and mind of all men;
People around the world joined hand-in-hand and rebuilt ‘tis land,
The most perfect Christmas gift which arrived on time.
Dec. 15, 2013 9.25pm
*My first ballad poem. Hope I did it right
NOT FOR PERFECT CHRISTMAS GIFT CONTEST
First Place
Contest: Any poem goes #1
Judged: 12/27/13
Sponsor: My greatest poet PD
songer.co/song/jn9xmquvqwg9g8vp8gl13tyf
[Verse 1]
I remember the chill in the air,
When you said goodbye, like you didn’t care.
Your words cut deep, left me bare,
But I stayed silent, pretending I was fine.
You walked away, said you needed space,
That freedom would bring you back to grace.
But in your eyes, I saw a trace
Of something we couldn’t leave behind.
[Pre-Chorus]
I thought I’d be fine,
Thought I’d find my way,
But the nights were long, and the days were gray.
Told myself I’d be alright—
Still haunted by your goodbye.
[Chorus]
Now you’re free, but I’m stuck here,
Wondering what could’ve been, the love we shared.
Was it worth the cost of what we had?
If freedom means losing you, then I’m not glad.
I’m doing fine now, but can’t you see?
Freedom came at the price of me.
And now I'm lost, lost forever in November,
But I can’t love you the way I used to remember.
[Verse 2]
Every corner of our old town sings,
Of laughter we shared and the joy it brings.
But now it's a ghost town echoing pain,
Those memories linger like the cold, hard rain.
I walk the streets where we used to roam,
Feels like I’m searching for a place called home.
But the shadows remind me of your face,
And the love we built that time can’t erase.
[Pre-Chorus]
I thought I’d be fine,
Thought I’d find my way,
But every sunset brings another gray day.
Told myself I’d be alright—
Yet I’m haunted by your goodbye.
[Chorus]
Now you’re free, but I’m stuck here,
Wondering what could’ve been, the love we shared.
Was it worth the cost of what we had?
If freedom means losing you, then I’m not glad.
I’m doing fine now, but can’t you see?
Freedom came at the price of me.
And now I'm lost, lost forever in November,
But I can’t love you the way I used to remember.
[Bridge]
Seasons change, but my heart stays cold,
Trying to find warmth in stories untold.
But your laughter echoes, it still calls to me,
Like a haunting melody that won’t set me free.
[Outro]
Lost in November, with the memories we made,
Chasing shadows of love that will never fade.
I’m lost in the echoes, longing to feel,
Wishing for a time when our love was real.
I remember you happiness
through the early aroma
of grinded coffee beans
wafting gently from
the corner coffee shop
I remember you through
the freshly bread 'scent
from the baker's sour rising yeast.
I remember you through
musicians playing in piazas
through the buzzling sounds
of the city's cobbled alleys, and streets
Through the children's laughter
running to ice-cream parlours,
Tourists in front of Cathedrals
Old people chit-chatting on benches
on a mid-springtime breeze .
I remember you happiness
through the eyes of happy couples
strolling along a sandy beach,
Through the Sunday Mass ,
a young priest on the altar
Through morning picnics,cook-outs
'gatherings of relatives ,our dogs,and families.
I remember you happiness through
yachts birthing at the Valletta Grand Harbour,
through aeroplanes landing in foreign lands,
through cherished moments
of Birthdays,Baptisms and Weddings,
A dinner shared with our closest friends.
Today Coffee Shops are empty
All Restaurants shut down,
Our island is a ghost town,
I am the saddest clown.
Today I hear no aeroplanes
The yachts not to be seen
Cathedrals,Churches closed
Yet the church bell chimes at noon,
Amd I kneel on my knees.
Today there are no tourists
All children locked inside
This Covid 19 virus
is worse than any Boogey-man
IIt brings tears to our eyes.
It kills our own people
Destroying human-kind.
Today the only way to see my friends
is virtually on skype,
My mothetr,brother ,father, I can't hug you
Just to keep you all alive.
Today the world's a scary place,
But together we would fight
With faith ,with love,
Determined like our ancestors
We'd leave this page behind.
We'd end this page as hereos
Compassionate and kind,
We'd be the great survivors
A candle in the night.
We'd learn from this dark moment
As dark as pitch black sky
We learn that above evil
Hope reighns, our sun would shine.
We learn to appreciate our loved ones,
Our ancestors ,Our elderly,
Our island and this world
Together we would make it
Through distance hand-in -hand.
Season of dream haze and arctic signpost.
Chill and chap brood whose scattered offspring plummet thermal values as welcome mat for “whiskered” chimney guest awash with bounty.
Thief of sun filled days without a twinge but that universal late December rendezvous can’t be thrust off-course.
Primal raw wind howl dissing summer’s distant memory - spotty and erratic though it was.
Deck chair, seat of toil free bliss now cold front recess blob.
Mirage or wishful thinking from a wet weather veteran.
We live in fear of reruns like Ophelia or
2010’s black ice.
Storm Force Brian, Mount Fuji on an airwave shrapnel carrier.
Dormant Loch Ness shadow’s fervent air mass plugging festive tunes.
To fuel dispatch and chimney sweep alike a sacred windfall.
For those who struggle just another inroad on an ever
shrinking pocket.
Yet this annual curtain closer has its grail and saving grace.
Dark art charmer lacing every patch for knee high boot crunch.
Architect of igloo closet ski cap.
Sleigh ride bell upon that maligned feast around our globe (Noel hark the alpine carol)!
Bizarre but only to us frostbite souls aloof from glacial beauty.
Deep freeze spirit canvass may not surface.
Christmas anthems booming over frolic footfall streets adorned by night owls.
Chaser lights that gee up gutted ghost town black spot.
Urban ice rink dome another fantasy or wonderland.
Toy shop stock n trade whose only trade is stock.
Colour coded gadget clutching every cell of window space.
Fashion fodder wizards magic spark a toddler’s glee at every turn.
Boisterous strains of Santa rousing inner reindeers - the sort beloved by children down the ages.
Yuletide decor gift band holly bush spike.
Log tossed on fire, kindling stick incendiary, leaping flame enshrouds smokeless polish.
Punch bowl nasal spice so aptly named rum do!
Skim milk skyline flaunts its snow fleck jewellery aloft.
Stars of astral compass spread their twinkle dash on human garlands.
Winter’s stepwise edging in a whirl plume of slush.
Christmas well and truly has arrived.
NB Polish as in Polish Coal,
The sun was setting, as it usually does
The town a ghost town, the main street all but silenced
The wind blowing leaves and dreams to and fro
The tension in the air was palpable
The few souls about all peering out shuttered windows
When in from the west, came a storm
Her name was Serena Storm,
They shivered in her wake, the poetess of dead lovers
Then over to the east side, riding in slow and steady
The grim reaper or so it seemed, hollowed eyes
Dead soul and dark mind, his side arm at the ready
The greatest duel in history, right here
In the town of Nowhere
The setting sun reflected of her dark long coat
The last tear drop, falling to its death in the dust
She stared ahead, face blank
Daring, with a glare, shoot me, shoot me, try
He dismounted his horse, called Heartless Soul
His eyes slits, staring down the curvaceous storm pacing untoward
His hand inside his coat, slowly pulling out a mickey
He belted down a shot or three,
In the town of nowhere
They both paced, hands at their side
Closer and closer, the saloon keeper
Not quite sure his bottle would be paid in full
Then as quickly at the sun set……
Vaso drew first.
The finest long black quill one ever saw
His other hand dropped his bottle
Magically a writing pad appeared
Serena drew second, pen at her side
The color of blood, and for good reason
She too tablet in hand, putting ink to paper
As they both furiously wrote
In the town of Nowhere
Hearts were murdered
The meaning of life was hanged not long after
Love was beheaded
The main street a river of blood
A storm of tears washing away crimson desires
An empty vassal, Vaso’s insides already dead
Dropping his pen, he pulled out his sword of mourning
The duel to end, as he lopped off his own head
She dropped paper and pen to the ground
She faced down the grim reaper, and it’s he who is dead
The only one to know, his name was Arthur
King of the dark, ruler of lost dreams
In the town of Nowhere
The poetic duel of the century
Both won and lost
Long ago
Life Of A Canine Named "Pooch”...
Equally Worthy As Mine
No explanation why,
the following unpleasant memory
shocked this systemofadown human vie
bur rent lee, suddenly, and oppressively
as if...a heavy object
fell from the sky
knocking render yours truly
into a crash test dummy
tail spinning vertigo,
where the soul of this guy
at this moment, when
the following misdeed
occurred well nigh
many werewolf full
moons ago, hence a sigh
leant echo with matthew scott
till he doth die!
Nonetheless, to my
dying day I cannot
forget, nor allow
un paw din nub bull sub woofing,
recollection, yet try as I might ow
(the psychological pain
still rubbed red
dully bone raw),
where ring around
the collar of
this paw - pow
whir fully, doggedly,
grudgingly, now
fines me to em bark
with a shrill bow wow
impossibly (even
incrementally) forgive
thy then girlfriend, now
spouse of approximately
deux dozen plus
years Oh my
DOG - "holy cow"
forsaking the beautiful
faithful, and loyal "purportedly
man's beast friend,"
and ideal chow
mate, upon venting still
smoldering grief
when said wife
egregiously, heartlessly, and
indiscriminately, (though not
deliberately) evoked strife
(cross) be still finds me gnashing,
where emotional grief rife
this closing November 19th, 2018
analogous to a serrated knife
tearing, stabbing, ripping,
and gnaw zee ate
ting lee wreck conning
this melon collie life
of mine, no more valuable,
than a unconditionally loving
creature "put down"
at the Chester County S.P.C.A.
leaving this aging puppy
with an indelible frown,
which sad recollection
unleashes sorrow every noun
and again, which
unrelenting hounding
agony, asper an non
healing wound tantamount
to unsolved killings
haunting ghost town.
In the glow of a screen,
we found each other,
two souls adrift in the vastness,
spilling into the digital ether,
each keystroke a heartbeat,
Sometimes, I trace the outline
of your face in my imagination,
wondering what your laughter sounds like
when the world is quiet.
I close my eyes,
and in the space between breaths,
I can almost feel you near,
like the warmth of sun
on a chilly day.
Wrapping in the paradox of wanting,
a paradox of needing you
while feeling lost,
wondering if love is meant to be
a bridge or a barrier—
a connection or a chasm,
I watch the tides of your indifference wash over me,
We share the same air,
yet I breathe in isolation,
I hold on,
clinging to the fragments of us,
I wait, sometimes, like a flower
thirsting for the rain,
for those sweet drops of recognition,
Affection twisted into chains,
words once sweet turned bitter,
I danced to the tune of your demands.
You painted love in shades of gray,
where silence screamed louder than shouts,
and I learned to read the spaces
between your messages,
the pauses heavy with threats
I wore your anger like a second skin,
bruised by your absence,
by the moments you left me hanging,
the coldness that filled my chest
when I dared to question,
to seek the warmth I craved
My heart a target,
your quips sharp,
a game of power,
I searched for solace,
a flicker of kindness,
but the glow was dim—
the ghost of you whispering,
“Stay.”
You left without a proper goodbye,
just a ghost in the chat,
your absence a cold draft,
No closure in the fading light,
just echoes bouncing in the void,
questions hanging like dust,
settling in spaces once filled with hope
You said you loved me,
wrapped my heart in ribbons,
you vanished like smoke,
leaving me in the aftermath,
a ghost town of memories,
You love me fiercely,
but only when your hands
are stained with the colors of my pain.
The ignored speck on the face of a giant world,
More open cultivated land but a fingernail of the agricultural hand,
From hot to cold the seasons change year after year,
The small town with giant character:
They say there is a world out there waiting to be explored, but I have my doubts any place can hold me like you do.
Outsiders see you as a ghost town for they do not know of your will and lived history.
Like the earth stands alone you are my solitary home in the unknown.
I fear one day you will leave me, replaced by corporate greed carrying the same name but not the same welcomed love.
For now we are one, emotionally connected as I take for granted all we have shared.
The burning sun sinks past your concrete simplistic structures as it leaves your empty space, then rises at dawn accompanied by the cool familiar wind as we awake to take on our fate.
You make the days blur to night without a sound, warning or remorse of the dying time.
The scene or theme never changes as if life is on pause but the clock still ticks as we grow old together.
Your children play innocently and ironically they too will know of the isolated world.
Houses come and go, copy and pasted over and over again on your subtle skin.
The green of the trees and grass make you more alive but I see death in your streetlight eyes.
Your cracked roads paved to connect the outside world, desperately looking for something to hold on to.
Quite as a mouse, ignored by the rest of the world,
Carelessly,
Cautiously,
Cunningly,
Slowing,
Holding, drowning, living
You are all I have known, welcoming those who travel past you, a stop on the road.
Time may soon forget you but I will always show, love for my gentle home.
Adoring the sense of family, absence of skyscrapers, city sounds, enjoyment of the quiet night, the winter breeze, the changing leafs, knowing thy neighbor, you have always been there for me and I am proud to be from the ghost town, small town, road stop speck, my home, Arbuckle.
Form:
For my grandson Tyler...with love Grandma
In a little ghost town in a land far away,
Lived little ghost Ty who liked always to play-
Father ghost warned him not to be scary,
While Mama ghost told him to always be wary!
October arrived - the time coming near,
Ty’s favorite holiday, soon would be here-
His friends were practicing to loudly say “Boo,”
He thought to himself, should I say it too?
“Do we have to wait until it’s dark?” Ty asked,
He wasn't sure if his patience would last-
His ghost buddies teased him a number of times,
“Can you, for once in your life, your parents not mind?”
Little ghost Ty thought for a minute and said,
Wel-l-l. they’ll never know if we stay far ahead-
All of his friends practiced frightening each other,
Ignoring the things said by his father and mother!
Excitement abound when night time arrived,
Ty and friends, a plan they contrived-
They told Ty’s sister, “ Keep your parents near,
Don’t let them catch up to us – clear?"
The night was so windy it whistled a tune,
The sky was dark with an elliptical moon-
Ty and his friends raced out of sight,
A little afraid, Ty pulled his sheet tight!
“Don’t be a baby,” said his little ghost friends,
“We’re nearing the school, where the road bends-
Get ready for action, we’ll belt it out loud.
We’ll scare everyone in that Halloween crowd.”
Little Ty shivered as they passed by the school,
Out of the bushes jumped three purple ghouls – BOO!
Ty and his friends were totally surprised,
Tears came rolling right down their eyes.
When father and mother caught up with their group,
They could tell that the little guys had really been spooked-
As they went to each door with their trick or treat phrase,
Ty and his friends, by his parents side stayed!
Upon returning home on Halloween night,
Little ghost Ty knew his parents were right-
Never say something you don’t want said to you -
And listen to your parents, they know what’s best to do!