Short Ghost Story Poems

night in haunted house
noisy presence in wardrobe
patch of damp in bed...

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Horrible Horrible Ghost Story

She Only Loved 
Dancing Music
But Didn't Have
Meat.

-Gray Squirrel

05-17-2025...

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...

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If that closet door opens by itself again, I am gone.
I should not have watched that ghost story on TV last night.
I know that now, I do not need a reminder.
Other people can watch that stuff, but I cannot.
Here I sit at three a.m. staring in horror at that cl……...

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 indigo moonbeam
Mere mortal deeply asleep
Shadow surge on wall

Indistinct movement
Particle of existence
Memories recalled.  

Melancholia
Sleeping face ignites sadness
Desolate heartache. 

Shimmering shadow
Lover's shade imparts soft kiss
Indigo moment....

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She had a reputation for being one you did not want to see in your dreams.
Death had been fast and furious, her soul was apparently frayed at the seams.
The ghost stories the young told made our hair curl and our knees quake.
If you want to hear them, find the hag. She will make your teeth shake....

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A photograph of us
tucked into an old paperback.

We took the book to Rome
long ago.

I left it on a bus.

Most likely
it has been destroyed,
by riffling thumbprints.
Paper rots,
the bus recycled into,
spoons and helmets.

The book was once
a romantic novel,
now it’s a ghost story.

Book worms rewrite history -
a very natural process.

...

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A photograph of us
tucked into an old paperback.

We took the book
to Rome long ago,
 and I left it
on a bus.

I wonder if the book
and the photo survive still
on some shelf somewhere,
that our picture
still looks like a couple in love,

or
 if it has been destroyed
(most likely),

that it lives on
as a ghost story
in some other novel....

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    A few scattered yellow wood cabins
       a swimming pool surrounded by pines
    
    a pier to fish from, a lake not to go in
       ‘cept for the stinkpots* and sailboats                *i.e., motorboats

    marshmallow roasts by the campfire at dusk
      a ghost story or two to relate

    along with the hotdogs and burgers that day
      the ghosts evicted whatever we ate
...

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you can't break what's already broken nor forsake what's been forsaken

every love song is a ghost story ~ when velvet skies dimmed our glory

no one really comprehends ~ how deep into the core it descends 

cloaked with invincible clouds , afraid to let tear-stained ink pour and set

silenced tongues sing in solitude ~ knitting metaphors misunderstood

hushed voices echo amidst smoky lungs ~ tainted through deafened art...

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Like living in the world of silence
Walking around like the living dead
Sitting, lying trying to sleep
Eventually we are thinking too deep

I can feel the blood running
Moving from vein to vein
My heart beats so fast
I can’t even understand

I thought this body is unbreakable
But this disease is uncontrollable
It ate my sanity, it makes me going crazy

Insomnia,
Like becoming one of those creature
They who lived in every ghost story
As the dark is their daylight...

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