Short Ghost Town Poems
Short Ghost Town Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Ghost Town by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Ghost Town by length and keyword.
I can't believe
that all this time
everything was happening
in my mind
ghost town
of a life
that I dreamed
it was mine.
Jessica
Beside the last pew,
a chipped white collection plate.
A ghostly blessing
if you toss a modern coin
through time and the barred front door.
lord
i
need to find
an old dirt road
that
twist and turn
to
lead me out of
this
ghost town
where
no more
haunted ghosts
to
be found
Listen to poem:
Playground deserted,
haunted, in ghost town.
Rusty swing creaking
as the wind swings
the empty seat
from side to side,
echoing an eerie toll
to a town
that died.
Take
a line
fora walk-
through a cryptic
maze
Mark Toby's 'Ghost Town'
see this and others at
http://www.michaelrosenfeldart.com/artists/artists_represented.php?i=159 ( no 5 of 6)
In my head are dark contemplations
Rattled by silent reflection
I fear my introspection
And my own damnation
Scrawled on concert halls
And ghost town malls
See my eyes
Death lies
...Why?
Gathering from this night...
These streets as her ghost town
Hushed whispers, shall we find you then ?
Standing at love's window; upon the other side
Of light ? Crystal eyes His child cries; a phantom bride.
Form:
Sometimes I'm in a crowd,
but my heart's eyes see a ghost-town
all around me,
with people who don't care who I am
or where I'm from....
Echoes of loneliness haunt me in my mind
every time I visit some people or places....
take heed; the bell
a call to church
or needless knell
the village prank
pews of ghost town
the bodies shrank
need a pastor
that draws them in
could be faster
the ring and shout
it’s loud and clear
bring love about
What do I know?
living in dreams
chasing the space
the void between
stars and lamplight
chasing love songs
baptismal in beer
running wild tonight
chasing the smoke
an electrified prophet
plays six strings
ghost town blues
Once in the ghost town they called rotgut
Seen mortician dancing dead mans strut
Six shooter brought Slim down
Black smith hurried left town
Guess hang by boots then when in a rut
Entry For Jerry's
A Town Called Rotgut
GL All
Old brown
Ghost town
Bright light
Scary sight
Severed head
Lying in bed
No fuss
Just us
Old tale
Past stale
Just teens
Set scenes
For fun
‘twas done
Old tricks
For kicks
New moon
Too soon
New day
More play
Collectors, traveling from far,
Dig in ashes piled behind
The weather-whitened, ghost-town bar:
Whiskey bottles there to find.
A hundred years have come to pass:
Cowboys—gamblers—girls—all dead.
Half-buried legacies of glass
Gleam beneath the rotting shed.
You go straight, you go down
You go to a street, you always frown
You're using street jacket for a clown
She's wearing clothe party loose gown
A loose gang waif rampaging ghost town
Name of the place, store, food, etcetera, all noun
All these jerks are here just to find a golden crown.
Watching the descent
without god
in an intelligent design.
Come have a look at
our adversary.
The template offers an open hand.
The culture of hunger
in this urbane obscenity
sitting on the payment making a motif.
The giant strode into
the hut to blame the poor
who would not eat his words.
Satish Verma
Monumental statues
so quickly torn down
by radical, woke vision
Truth, a ghost town
Sewer workers' heroes
too, have to go
They carry out the
'Plans of the Man'
Don't you know?...
Located underground
Can't tear those statues 'down'
Will they be broken 'up?'
~ I hear a voice screaming 'Yup'
A devils wind blew in
the stars covered the sky
smoke filled the air, not a soul to be heard
a ghost town full of fright
a wild heart on the loose
a gun slinger he'll shoot
his love is barren, broken with an arrow
on an eagles wing he flie's
a devils wind is blowing in
one's man love, barren among the crazy hearts
now he flie's..
There was a young lass from Gertrude
Who just loved to dance in the nude
But she had two left feet
She could not hold a beat
To top it all off she was rude
* Gertrude is a ghost town in West Virginia
Traditional Limerick Contest
Sponsor: Viv Wigley
4-10-18
As the man weeps and bellows,
He walks through the ghost town meadow.
Ashes upon ashes his home remains,
It hits so hard he can't endure this pain.
He then walks to the tomb stones,
You can hear the sadness in his tone.
He falls to his knees in front of his new home.
A gunshot rings through the woods, now his spirit can begin to roam.
A devils wind blew in
the stars covered the sky
smoke filled the air
not a soul to be heard
a ghost town, full of fright
a wild heart on the loose
a gun slinger, he'll shoot
his love is barron
broken with an arrrow
on an eagles wing, he fly's
a devils wind is blowin' in
one mans love, barron among the crazy hearts
he now fly's
I saw one with the placidness of death
A necropolis pummelled, with mallets of sorrow,
By the brutishness of Silence and numbed by the
Prickly shafts of premature grey hair, sickly and odorous.
Even Tokyo, normally awash with people and pets,
Pots and pans, observed the rules of siesta.
I witnessed it —a virus so vicious —!
A plague that humbled one and all —
Troglodytes we!
The Coyle’s curtains are closed,
Coal mines no longer employ,
Might as well destroy,
A once thriving steel town,
The record books should take down,
The history which lies on these streets,
Within these buildings,
Formed by immigrants,
From bare hands and backbones,
Drowned in crime now,
Writhing beneath the poverty line,
Turning to a ghost town,
Charleroi will be no more.
To live in a world
One I do not know
Walking the streets
through a ghost town
The empty shops
and all the faces
with no smile
I become afraid
and run away
I live alone
and no one
tries to reach me
Only I'm aware
of where I am
and what I'm trying
NOT to be
Tick-tock
tick-tock
time's moving
one way
and I'm
running the other
Find me
if you may
and see my escape
right back home
tucked away
The little town sits by the road to nowhere
Now a muted grey, the empty shells forgotten
A sagging door, an empty window, a broken stair
Sad reminders of those who used to lived there
In the dust a single footprint left by some passerby
Did he stop like me, to remember what used to be
To listen to the desert wind giving a mournful sigh
And bid the town, and her past, a last goodbye
Through ghost town I walk alone,
Few buildings stand, most just gone,
Not even sand is swept in piles,
No other presence seen for miles;
I’m not talking some desert slog,
No, it’s about an abandoned blog,
A new poem hasn’t been added,
Message roll has not been padded,
No new photos, or even comment,
The silence deafens, like wet cement;
Where once was lively, visited often,
Sadness reigns, as memories soften.