The Specter
Your spent to long
Searching for fallen stars
Your moon slipped away
I hope your wishes were
Worth the price you paid
You failed the one
Who needs you most
And now you must confront the ghost
I died the other day,
fore am but a wraith,
manipulated by creatures,
leeches of the realm moribund.
Scars etch my face from lobotomies,
artistry crafted with a silver brush,
scalpel carves sanguinary in hush,
by a blind man, a white coat.
Smoke, Lilithian billowing tendrils,
swirl my essence, telekinesis,
baleful aura emanates the dirge,
mirth to match their futile folly.
Pluck the harp, smack the drum,
turn the skeletal key,
jiggle the loose lock,
yclept maestra death incarnate.
Destiny..
to free this specter from its host
caught in a body like bear trap
a house made of arms that can't let go
my hearth’s flame is selfish,
unwilling to part with smoke
without separation i will choke
at the memory of a pleasant smog
sewn into the wrists of silver tinged fingers
there is rust in my bloodstream
the wear and tear of my engine
corrodes away a heart that
deserves to be at peace
so please exorcise me with shock
i felt you’d never want to leave
In the attic of an abandoned home
Lives a fearsome specter who shrieks and moans.
He breaks the windows and rattles chains,
The house shudders and quakes sitting on its frame.
He’s covered in cobwebs, and smells of must
He waits at the window gathering dust.
All through the neighborhood you can hear
The wails of the specter year after year.
The children tell stories of this horrid home
And the ghost in the attic unable to roam,
He waits at the window, though no one can see,
For someone to notice and set him free.
Fearing ghosts is not foolish if they are ghoulish
for evil specters might haunt you Halloween night
Each night, while you lay breathing quietly,
I wander like a wraith through empty rooms
A phantom in both life and memory,
the ghost a long abandoned oath exhumes
I hover like a spirit over you
each night, while you lay breathing quietly,
so desperate to believe what isn't true,
I make the best of ambiguity
This specter in the mirror isn't me
These lines belong on someone elses face
Each night, while you lay breathing quietly,
it's loneliness that holds me in your place
My worth so long defined by your extremes;
extolled by love, or birched by perfidy,
I find it's just the first that haunts my dreams
each night, while you lay breathing quietly
Each night my dreams have become a host
as darkness welcomes a drifting silhouette.
Dancing in candlelight, I see a spectral ghost.
In slumber, I hear him whisper. Is it a threat?
Frightened, I tremble, trying not to provoke.
My gown is now drenched with cold sweat.
From within shadows, the apparition spoke,
"Do not fear me, for I could not do you harm."
Each night, this was the moment when I woke.
But I'm still dreaming and take his offered arm.
We waltz in the glow of starlight until sunrise,
and I am spellbound by his wit and virile charm.
A phantom of mystery, but I can't see his eyes
as he holds me close in the pale light of morn.
His visage intrigues me, cloaked in dark disguise.
I woke to sounding chimes and I could have sworn
there lingered the scent of wood sage he had worn.
July 30, 2022 ~ Five Stanza Terza Rima Contest
Sponsor: L Milton Hankins
I know for sure that they exist
I have seen them with my own eyes
at all hours of the day and night
since I was a small child
spirits, specters, phantoms, ghosts
whatever one wishes to call them
Striding down the sidewalk
ducking through doorways
descending the stairs
casting shadows on the walls
wandering the halls
No moldy shrouds or clanking chains
or mournful wails
appearing as solid and vital
as if blood still pulsed through
arteries and veins
before they suddenly vanish
silently from sight
like a bubble bursting
as they pass back through the veil
The dead do not frighten me
What sends a shiver down my spine
Causes my body to shake in fear
my heart to quiver
after all these long years
though there are those who insist
that it exists
I have never seen love
Beyond the Black Fence
By Sy Roth
The land lay fallow
Beyond the black fence.
Growth once dressed in a white blanket of hoar in winter landscapes
Lush in summer months
Deer speckled backdrop
Munched all day behind a scrim of lush camouflage
And black birds rested on the scrub
Coupled with the land and each other
A fornucopia of perpetuation.
But like time
It marched in to war on its own turf--
The cranes, yellow tractor-footed creatures
Tore at the soil and formed mountains of dirt
That wild (plants?) draped over
And the long-necked (?) concrete spreaders
Filled the gaping foundations with its gray slush
And the deer fled
And the black birds had resting places on the open rooftops
And the last trees crumbled to the diesel monsters
Where future houses will stack itself with the firewood
Of septuagenarians and those who aspire to end that race.
Incessant noise of change
A cock-a-doodle-doo alarm
On the other side of the black fence
My side where I find comfort in a book
And a drink to whet my appetite
And conjure up the images of the verdant green that once was
And the hoary land that once was my winter vista
“I’m sorry,” she whispered
“Didn’t mean to slap your face.”
His cheek stung, voice quivered
“How did I get to this place?”
She twisted his emotions until
he believed every word she said
and made him forget she came
from the house of the dead
Her mother was born an evil witch
turned her father into a ghost
This girl was a phantom
serving the devil as a host
She’d tricked many men before him
by crushing their heart and soul
Using dark magic to conform them
until she gained control
Friend’s prayed “cast her out”
too many times to mention
He was saved from this specter
by Divine Intervention
02/24/2021
Written for Ghost Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Julia Ward
To kiss so lovingly the morning mist
And watch intently shadows of the flame
To know the way the moon and the sun kissed
Is to meet the eyes of he with no name
And see within those worlds a fervent need
For souls, false souls, to fall, to crush, to gasp
That flashes in the back of but one greed
But is there not when it one tries to grasp
And like the asp that bites with a stinging pain
For what love could wear both a cloak and mask
And grow wings neither lovely nor mundane
Loving spectres is a Sisyphean task
For love is purest when it hits its mark
And lights great warmth in Hades dark.
A Shadorma
The dreaded
Monday morning
looms ahead,
awaiting
to crush my tired spirit;
horrid day.
Beneath a
streetlamp a specter
appears to
me, shadow...
backdrop of nighttime moon beams,
imparting wisdom.
No fear have
I for your presence
my dream guide,
awaiting,
beckoning me to follow;
secrets are revealed.
So many
pieces of wisdom
that only
you would know;
you enlighten my quashed mind,
futures seen.
His mind is a blank; it matches the screen
in front of him, staring back silent and mean
daring him fill it with meaning and rhyme
as the Enemy ticks in the background -- Time
Seconds ebb away, each one a dull minute
his Fount of Creation dry, nothing in it
Inviting a creature to well up from the deep
The Specter of Panic, hounds him to weep
For the loss of his pen, of his ink -- yea - his will
to knot up his fears in a ball, and roll them downhill
till they crash at the bottom in a sickening heap
shards of despair born of hopelessness deep
O, say it's not so, that's it nought but a dream
that reality's illusion's a loud empty scream
The Dark Specter by Morgana Von Ghoul (d.s.m.)
Deep in the forest black
Shadows crawl over my face
Stench and rot seeping crack
From whence did I come into this place?
Seething revenant walking quickly
Upon my back breathing deeply
Hair stands up goosebumps creeping
The dark specter grabs ahold
Hands gripping, pulling, snatching
Never knowing obscure and cold
Hang me over the pit
Hounds of hell growling
Undead fingers clawing
My flesh such an appeal
Slime and burning their acid touch
Vipers fangs bloody and dripping
The dark specter's sinister grin
Haunting the lives of ruthless men
Perchance I was one of their ilk?
Velvet legs of creatures walk upon me
Black widows spinning silk
Sharpness of light peering through
My mind is clearing
Feeling somewhat renewed
Eyes open rising up
Slithering beings deadly as nightshade
Taking on a hidden vocation
A wraith man made
King of night beasts
New leader of the macabre parade
This is my fate
The Dark Specter's trade.
I stared at her hair as it glistened in the light summer rain;
I watched as it twirled and leaped in the gentle breeze.
I admired the sway of her hips, and the way that the soles
of her feet rose and fell, all in rhythm with the bounce of
her step. I enjoyed the image her porcelain-like skin, as
well as the dark shadow that it made on the uneven pavement.
I smiled as she smiled, and frowned as she frowned. I wished
for a moment of recognition, for an instance of eye contact,
but all in vain. In the shadows I remained-
a specter,
both devoid of life and full to the brim with it. She passed me,
the image of her being so engrained in my mind that I saw her even
with my eyes closed.
I followed.
I approached her slowly, as one would a wounded animal, afraid
that she would escape the depths of my passion.
I was consumed.
I stared once again at her wet hair, still beautiful even in its lack of motion.
I admired her stagnant hips and the upturned soles of her feet. I touched
her doll skin. It felt not of porcelain, but cold paper. I smiled at her shadow.
I envied her blank, lifeless eyes.
Related Poems