Ghosts Poems
Spirit Birds
by Stanley Plumly
The spirit world the negative of this one,
soft outlines of soft whites against soft darks,
someone crossing Broadway at Cathedral, walking
toward the god taking the picture, but now,
inside the camera, suddenly still. Or the spirit
world the detail through the window, manifest
if stared at long enough, the shapes of this
or that, the lights left on, the lights turned off,
the spirits under arcs of sycamores the gray-gold
mists of migratory birds and spotted leaves recognize.
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by Tammy Darbyssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss
Continue readingBewitched
by Tammy Darby
There was no choice except to lie about the drug use though everyone in town knew the truth. He was a heavy cranker, a tweaker and tried to keep it secret then the inevitable came, long under drug-induced strain, its parts wearing out, his heart started failing.
He had done the drug for a long time and did a good job of hiding it from most of the people in town until his best friend revealed his habit to a person close to him.
At first, he tried to explain it away by telling everyone it was a disorder ran in his family but those that did the white powder lines with him just laughed. They knew why he was having problems with his heart and soon they would be too. But the damage was done and there were no stories or excuses he could use to cover his operations and hospital stays anymore and soon the whole town knew what he was. He had hidden the instances of violence against women and kept the cops at bay by snitching when he had a little useable information and they cut him a little slack for his efforts.
But everything had changed. He became thin, gaunt and black blue circles appeared underneath his eyes, his hair fell out and he became an old man what seemed like overnight. Afraid, and rightly so, he wondered if this was the price he paid for his treacherous behavior. For the lies, he told her, the promises he broke and the damage he inflicted because of his greed. For the lives, he had destroyed from his past.
He could not shake these perceptions that tortured him night and day sitting in the back of his brain like a tightening knot that refused to be expelled. It weighed heavy on his heart and more so in his mind until his thoughts turned inward and outward and twisted like snakes. Then he remembered the last words she spoke; the crying and chills ran through his body, he began to violently tremble and his breathing quickened with the memory of her.
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Poems about Shadows and Darkness by Michael R. Burch
by Michael R. Burch
These are poems about shadows, poems about darkness, poems about shades in the form of ghosts and spirits...
Shadows
by Michael R. Burch
Alone again as evening falls,
I join gaunt shadows and we crawl
up and down my room's dark walls.
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by Tammy Darbymmmmmmm
Continue readingPoems about Shadows and Darkness by Michael R. Burch
by Michael R. Burch
These are poems about shadows, poems about darkness, poems about shades in the form of ghosts and spirits...
Shadows
by Michael R. Burch
Alone again as evening falls,
I join gaunt shadows and we crawl
up and down my room's dark walls.
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Cemetery Spiral Waltz
by Jessica Leininger
Old names break into pieces
Somewhere along the timeline
Like handmade pottery
Thrown at the ground
Or at the walls, or at the window
Or onto the ceiling, caught in the skylight
Thrown up
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Whispers on the Wind
by D. M. Dale
As I lay here at night, in the soft pale moonlight
I hear from outside the wall,
The gusts, rapid and swift
The sound of your phantom call.
I think, wondering, waiting-
Is it my mind mistaking
The cold whipping wind
Which upon ride your whispers to me
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I Am a Ghost, a Soul Without a Form
by Oscar Auliq-Ice
I am a ghost, a spirit of the ages,
A phantom figure that never fades,
A memory of the ones who came before,
A whisper of the past that lingers more.
I haunt the halls of ancient ruins,
And wander through abandoned tombs,
I'm the echo of a voice long gone,
The distant notes of a forgotten song.
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I Am a Ghost, a Haunting Soul
by Oscar Auliq-Ice
I am a ghost, a whispering shade,
A fleeting memory that's never quite laid,
A wisp of smoke that dances in the night,
A gentle breeze that carries out of sight.
I haunt the halls of ancient castles,
My presence felt in eerie cackles,
I wander through the forest's mist,
A haunting presence you can't resist.
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