Ghost Poems
#ghosts
Ghost poems about the souls or spirits of dead people. Poetry about ghosts, ranging from an invisible presence to a translucent shape or realistic, lifelike vision. Superstitious poetry about ghosts, and poems about interactions with a spirit world.
Palmed
take my hand and hide behind the stars after dark
as comets wrap us safe, chase lightning’s spark
China doll adorned in mottled scraps of colour fade
keep her close, and on display, ornamental parade
shadows cast drips with light in the summer heat
infused in shades of gold that are still incomplete
in the ensuing silence we target that burst of flame
palms on hips move forward in this nocturnal game
weak tongues sweetly press on in the moon’s wane
teardrop pulses quicken beneath a spattered rain
wisps...
as comets wrap us safe, chase lightning’s spark
China doll adorned in mottled scraps of colour fade
keep her close, and on display, ornamental parade
shadows cast drips with light in the summer heat
infused in shades of gold that are still incomplete
in the ensuing silence we target that burst of flame
palms on hips move forward in this nocturnal game
weak tongues sweetly press on in the moon’s wane
teardrop pulses quicken beneath a spattered rain
wisps...
#ghosts
41 reads
0 Comments
Not Open For Discussions
Among the dead, we are curious. We are haunted. You scream for ice cream, and we scream out of loneliness. Walking the halls of death leaving no footprints or shadows. At times tossed out with the trash, once scented, now lost. As ghosts, we have no pedigree or degree in philosophy. We fail to exist unless in someone's conversation about passing and leaving a Will. We feel no rain or April Showers. We are the weeds of the unremembered. The dust on a shelf or the sound of neglect as the cat looks around for the sound. We are not fatal because we are dead and there is nothing generic to replace...
#ghosts
33 reads
0 Comments
Age.. 0 to 22.. Temporary info..
As you all should know by now I was brought up in Africa. My Dad worked in a local bank (forestry and agriculture). As an 18 year old he had the chance of playing for Reading FC but chose Africa instead.
My parents met in Ghana, Mum a teacher, they married there and I was born years later a vivid shade of yellow as I had contracted jaundice.
My family moved to Malawi where I was schooled and I spent my non -school days climbing trees, aggravating water scorpions and having bot fly larvae squeezed out my knees and elbows. There was no tv, no washing...
My parents met in Ghana, Mum a teacher, they married there and I was born years later a vivid shade of yellow as I had contracted jaundice.
My family moved to Malawi where I was schooled and I spent my non -school days climbing trees, aggravating water scorpions and having bot fly larvae squeezed out my knees and elbows. There was no tv, no washing...
#ghosts
31 reads
Mismatched Hands
Sometimes I wonder who owned my right hand
Were they kind? Did they do loving things with it?
I guess I think that way about most of my body
The doctor picked and chose each part...who knows why
My right hand has fingers that are long and spidery
With nails that are grow easily longer and stronger
Than my left hand... Which is completely different
It's much smaller than my right and stronger too
There's callouses that I can't seem to get rid of
Nails that can only grown to a short, blunt length
There's hair on the knuckles that grow noticable...
Were they kind? Did they do loving things with it?
I guess I think that way about most of my body
The doctor picked and chose each part...who knows why
My right hand has fingers that are long and spidery
With nails that are grow easily longer and stronger
Than my left hand... Which is completely different
It's much smaller than my right and stronger too
There's callouses that I can't seem to get rid of
Nails that can only grown to a short, blunt length
There's hair on the knuckles that grow noticable...
#strength
#shadows
#ghosts
#magic
#vulnerability
75 reads
8 Comments
A Cemetery For Butterflies
The ominous sound of
butterfly wings,
fluttering amidst this
haunted gloom.
Once alive, now
beautiful dead things,
these tiny ghosts that
once bid us swoon.
Their tomb, this desolate
tortured heart, a curse
I bear, but so despise.
Eternally doomed to play
my part, a cemetery for
butterflies.
butterfly wings,
fluttering amidst this
haunted gloom.
Once alive, now
beautiful dead things,
these tiny ghosts that
once bid us swoon.
Their tomb, this desolate
tortured heart, a curse
I bear, but so despise.
Eternally doomed to play
my part, a cemetery for
butterflies.
#depression
#dark
#heartbroken
#breakup
#ghosts
51 reads
2 Comments
No Deity Dare Break Us
We’ll haunt this home
With memories of love
No deity dare break us
Or rattle our bones
Our breath still lingers
Where we traced our fingers
Over shuttered windows
With a cryptic message
You can’t smudge us away
Our passion burns every day
Stoking up weary flames
In the crumbling fireplace
Lo’ this home we’ve claimed
With an infinite embrace
So when you leave, remember
Leave the light on, forever
With Love,
Dearly Departed
With memories of love
No deity dare break us
Or rattle our bones
Our breath still lingers
Where we traced our fingers
Over shuttered windows
With a cryptic message
You can’t smudge us away
Our passion burns every day
Stoking up weary flames
In the crumbling fireplace
Lo’ this home we’ve claimed
With an infinite embrace
So when you leave, remember
Leave the light on, forever
With Love,
Dearly Departed
#ghosts
#pagan
#magic
#witches
#curse
41 reads
0 Comments
Dooming Desecration
Shattered shields stayed the sight of silence silently, sightless
Moans of men muttered meanless mourning messily, mightless
Hordes of horned heretics hammered heads of heartless heathens, heightless
Dreadful droning, drips of drool drown daring and dutiful duelers that diest
Dust dancing down deserted dells
Bones buried, battles and blood beyond bells
Rusted regalia, ravaged and rotten remains
Echoes empty, entombed in eerie enchains
The bones of the king, regal remains of reign
Rest upon the ruins of the ruthless terrain
His...
Moans of men muttered meanless mourning messily, mightless
Hordes of horned heretics hammered heads of heartless heathens, heightless
Dreadful droning, drips of drool drown daring and dutiful duelers that diest
Dust dancing down deserted dells
Bones buried, battles and blood beyond bells
Rusted regalia, ravaged and rotten remains
Echoes empty, entombed in eerie enchains
The bones of the king, regal remains of reign
Rest upon the ruins of the ruthless terrain
His...
#dark
#war
#death
#ghosts
#graveyard
32 reads
2 Comments
BROWN EYES
I have tried but she doesn’t love me.
I said cry but my brown eyes are dry.
I’m dying inside but I’m still alive.
She’s giving me signs but I’m a blind.
Is she looking at me or the guy behind?
My mind is in knots, that I can’t untie.
Be mine this time….
I have tried but she doesn’t want me.
I say hi with the sun in my eyes.
I can’t tell if she’s smiling,
I love when she’s smiling.
I can’t compete with no one else,
she’s thinking of me when she’s by herself.
Will she want me more if I look away?
I’m playing her game.
I said cry but my brown eyes are dry.
I’m dying inside but I’m still alive.
She’s giving me signs but I’m a blind.
Is she looking at me or the guy behind?
My mind is in knots, that I can’t untie.
Be mine this time….
I have tried but she doesn’t want me.
I say hi with the sun in my eyes.
I can’t tell if she’s smiling,
I love when she’s smiling.
I can’t compete with no one else,
she’s thinking of me when she’s by herself.
Will she want me more if I look away?
I’m playing her game.
#happiness
#strength
#courage
#ghosts
#IMissYou
67 reads
Stela (i)
Prologue:
In the last rays of the setting sun sits
an empty grave on top of a dusty,
barren hill. A cold wind blows dirt across
the unoccupied hole in gusts. Dust devils
caper about in the dying light, hanging
around like wraiths after the bodies are
rotted.
The sound of the wind fills my senses.
I’m welded to the spot I stand upon and
I cannot even twitch. The sole movement
I have is to move my eyes back and forth
across the panorama set in front me. All
is lifeless and cold as...
In the last rays of the setting sun sits
an empty grave on top of a dusty,
barren hill. A cold wind blows dirt across
the unoccupied hole in gusts. Dust devils
caper about in the dying light, hanging
around like wraiths after the bodies are
rotted.
The sound of the wind fills my senses.
I’m welded to the spot I stand upon and
I cannot even twitch. The sole movement
I have is to move my eyes back and forth
across the panorama set in front me. All
is lifeless and cold as...
#ghosts
47 reads
0 Comments
Be Kind, Shikigami
One last face
Grinning through the darkness
Dislocate
Granting me gifts of sight
Throw away
Fear unto the mornless
Generate
Like ravens blessed take flight
Feel my breath
Hope among the tragic
Slip the cage
Connect the psychic mind
Disappear
As Heaven cries havoc
One more taste
Of never-ending night.
Grinning through the darkness
Dislocate
Granting me gifts of sight
Throw away
Fear unto the mornless
Generate
Like ravens blessed take flight
Feel my breath
Hope among the tragic
Slip the cage
Connect the psychic mind
Disappear
As Heaven cries havoc
One more taste
Of never-ending night.
#dark
#spiritual
#ghosts
#SelfReflection
#magic
46 reads
0 Comments
I Thought I Finally Got Over Her Death
Nathan had gone to see his
best friend at a restaurant
and saw his wife Stana look
at the guy like she was in
the midst of saying "Love you".
"Why did you let that creep shoot
you in the face?!" was what Nathan
asked before she disappeared.
best friend at a restaurant
and saw his wife Stana look
at the guy like she was in
the midst of saying "Love you".
"Why did you let that creep shoot
you in the face?!" was what Nathan
asked before she disappeared.
#romantic
#gothic
#fiction
#ghosts
#tragedy
52 reads
2 Comments
Apotheosis
Sweet ardent dance twixt the mind and eye
How and when do you ever rest a spell?
Even slumbering you hope to spy
Some island heaven in our ocean hell;
Some life in every lifeless place;
Some beauty in a welcoming face;
Some mercy applied to our disgrace;
And a chosen word in a cursive trace
Lineated down into a measured part
Spun to give that dance a resting mark
Where the mind's eye might relieve the heart
And entomb that inspirational spark
Into something like thought shadows affixed,
Forevermore from turmoil nixed.
How and when do you ever rest a spell?
Even slumbering you hope to spy
Some island heaven in our ocean hell;
Some life in every lifeless place;
Some beauty in a welcoming face;
Some mercy applied to our disgrace;
And a chosen word in a cursive trace
Lineated down into a measured part
Spun to give that dance a resting mark
Where the mind's eye might relieve the heart
And entomb that inspirational spark
Into something like thought shadows affixed,
Forevermore from turmoil nixed.
#ghosts
#LifeAsAWriter
#PowerOfWords
91 reads
12 Comments
DU Poetry : Ghost Poems