Poems About Ghosts Published by Members Recently Online
#ghosts
missjem56
Poem Published
24th Jul 2024 11:32pm
24th Jul 2024 11:32pm
Alone With The Ghosts Of My Mother
The times
After finding my mother dead
Between her bedroom, and the hallway
Were stark
And the nightmares
Then the funeral
Then the after funeral get together
At my mothers flat
I have only vague memories
Of conversations
Drifting over the ether of death
Then i watched
As people slowly dispersed
Becoming ghost like
As they left
Until there was only me
In an empty flat
Full of my recent nightmarish memories
And the stain on the floorboards
Where i'd found her lying
And her ashes on the...
After finding my mother dead
Between her bedroom, and the hallway
Were stark
And the nightmares
Then the funeral
Then the after funeral get together
At my mothers flat
I have only vague memories
Of conversations
Drifting over the ether of death
Then i watched
As people slowly dispersed
Becoming ghost like
As they left
Until there was only me
In an empty flat
Full of my recent nightmarish memories
And the stain on the floorboards
Where i'd found her lying
And her ashes on the...
#ghosts
#grief
#LifeAsAWriter
#LifeStruggles
#nightmares
127 reads
0 Comments
Josh
Joshua Bond
Joshua Bond
Poem Published
15th Sep 2020 11:25pm
15th Sep 2020 11:25pm
Samhain, Then & Now
Bit like a Bank Holiday really —
those who’d died in the previous twelve months
headed for the Underworld … and all on the same day.
Kinda party time it was
free food, bonfires, lots of dancing around each other
wearing scary masks. I call it
traditional co-operation between the living and the dead.
Not now. Compulsory App reads the obligatory chip
in your shoulder to confirm you’re officially dead
before giving you the green light to walk on down.
If only. Those damn algorithms are always getting it wrong;
they...
those who’d died in the previous twelve months
headed for the Underworld … and all on the same day.
Kinda party time it was
free food, bonfires, lots of dancing around each other
wearing scary masks. I call it
traditional co-operation between the living and the dead.
Not now. Compulsory App reads the obligatory chip
in your shoulder to confirm you’re officially dead
before giving you the green light to walk on down.
If only. Those damn algorithms are always getting it wrong;
they...
#technology
#ghosts
#historical
667 reads
19 Comments
Josh
Joshua Bond
Joshua Bond
Poem Published
15th Sep 2020 11:25pm
15th Sep 2020 11:25pm
Samhain, Then & Now
Bit like a Bank Holiday really —
those who’d died in the previous twelve months
headed for the Underworld … and all on the same day.
Kinda party time it was
free food, bonfires, lots of dancing around each other
wearing scary masks. I call it
traditional co-operation between the living and the dead.
Not now. Compulsory App reads the obligatory chip
in your shoulder to confirm you’re officially dead
before giving you the green light to walk on down.
If only. Those damn algorithms are always getting it wrong;
they...
those who’d died in the previous twelve months
headed for the Underworld … and all on the same day.
Kinda party time it was
free food, bonfires, lots of dancing around each other
wearing scary masks. I call it
traditional co-operation between the living and the dead.
Not now. Compulsory App reads the obligatory chip
in your shoulder to confirm you’re officially dead
before giving you the green light to walk on down.
If only. Those damn algorithms are always getting it wrong;
they...
#technology
#ghosts
#historical
667 reads
19 Comments
Josh
Joshua Bond
Joshua Bond
Poem Published
15th Sep 2020 11:25pm
15th Sep 2020 11:25pm
Samhain, Then & Now
Bit like a Bank Holiday really —
those who’d died in the previous twelve months
headed for the Underworld … and all on the same day.
Kinda party time it was
free food, bonfires, lots of dancing around each other
wearing scary masks. I call it
traditional co-operation between the living and the dead.
Not now. Compulsory App reads the obligatory chip
in your shoulder to confirm you’re officially dead
before giving you the green light to walk on down.
If only. Those damn algorithms are always getting it wrong;
they...
those who’d died in the previous twelve months
headed for the Underworld … and all on the same day.
Kinda party time it was
free food, bonfires, lots of dancing around each other
wearing scary masks. I call it
traditional co-operation between the living and the dead.
Not now. Compulsory App reads the obligatory chip
in your shoulder to confirm you’re officially dead
before giving you the green light to walk on down.
If only. Those damn algorithms are always getting it wrong;
they...
#technology
#ghosts
#historical
667 reads
19 Comments
Ahavati
Tams
Tams
Poem Published
17th Nov 2018 9:45pm
17th Nov 2018 9:45pm
Ghost House ( after Robert Frost )
Whoever once stepped afoot
upon this now abandoned porch
must’ve toiled a daily wage
within the fields and garden gate
hanging now as rotted wood
Whoever cooked within this kitchen
canning beans and plucking chicken
surely did so with such care
her flower vase still sitting there
with wilted bloom on withered stem
Whoever slept within this room
of hand-sewn curtains billowing-
snagged and torn on broken...
upon this now abandoned porch
must’ve toiled a daily wage
within the fields and garden gate
hanging now as rotted wood
Whoever cooked within this kitchen
canning beans and plucking chicken
surely did so with such care
her flower vase still sitting there
with wilted bloom on withered stem
Whoever slept within this room
of hand-sewn curtains billowing-
snagged and torn on broken...
#countryside
#nature
#ghosts
#historical
#RobertFrost
1027 reads
25 Comments
Ahavati
Tams
Tams
Poem Published
17th Nov 2018 9:45pm
17th Nov 2018 9:45pm
Ghost House ( after Robert Frost )
Whoever once stepped afoot
upon this now abandoned porch
must’ve toiled a daily wage
within the fields and garden gate
hanging now as rotted wood
Whoever cooked within this kitchen
canning beans and plucking chicken
surely did so with such care
her flower vase still sitting there
with wilted bloom on withered stem
Whoever slept within this room
of hand-sewn curtains billowing-
snagged and torn on broken...
upon this now abandoned porch
must’ve toiled a daily wage
within the fields and garden gate
hanging now as rotted wood
Whoever cooked within this kitchen
canning beans and plucking chicken
surely did so with such care
her flower vase still sitting there
with wilted bloom on withered stem
Whoever slept within this room
of hand-sewn curtains billowing-
snagged and torn on broken...
#countryside
#nature
#ghosts
#historical
#RobertFrost
1027 reads
25 Comments
Ahavati
Tams
Tams
Poem Published
17th Nov 2018 9:45pm
17th Nov 2018 9:45pm
Ghost House ( after Robert Frost )
Whoever once stepped afoot
upon this now abandoned porch
must’ve toiled a daily wage
within the fields and garden gate
hanging now as rotted wood
Whoever cooked within this kitchen
canning beans and plucking chicken
surely did so with such care
her flower vase still sitting there
with wilted bloom on withered stem
Whoever slept within this room
of hand-sewn curtains billowing-
snagged and torn on broken...
upon this now abandoned porch
must’ve toiled a daily wage
within the fields and garden gate
hanging now as rotted wood
Whoever cooked within this kitchen
canning beans and plucking chicken
surely did so with such care
her flower vase still sitting there
with wilted bloom on withered stem
Whoever slept within this room
of hand-sewn curtains billowing-
snagged and torn on broken...
#countryside
#nature
#ghosts
#historical
#RobertFrost
1027 reads
25 Comments
Ahavati
Tams
Tams
Poem Published
17th Nov 2018 9:45pm
17th Nov 2018 9:45pm
Ghost House ( after Robert Frost )
Whoever once stepped afoot
upon this now abandoned porch
must’ve toiled a daily wage
within the fields and garden gate
hanging now as rotted wood
Whoever cooked within this kitchen
canning beans and plucking chicken
surely did so with such care
her flower vase still sitting there
with wilted bloom on withered stem
Whoever slept within this room
of hand-sewn curtains billowing-
snagged and torn on broken...
upon this now abandoned porch
must’ve toiled a daily wage
within the fields and garden gate
hanging now as rotted wood
Whoever cooked within this kitchen
canning beans and plucking chicken
surely did so with such care
her flower vase still sitting there
with wilted bloom on withered stem
Whoever slept within this room
of hand-sewn curtains billowing-
snagged and torn on broken...
#countryside
#nature
#ghosts
#historical
#RobertFrost
1027 reads
25 Comments
Ahavati
Tams
Tams
Poem Published
17th Nov 2018 9:45pm
17th Nov 2018 9:45pm
Ghost House ( after Robert Frost )
Whoever once stepped afoot
upon this now abandoned porch
must’ve toiled a daily wage
within the fields and garden gate
hanging now as rotted wood
Whoever cooked within this kitchen
canning beans and plucking chicken
surely did so with such care
her flower vase still sitting there
with wilted bloom on withered stem
Whoever slept within this room
of hand-sewn curtains billowing-
snagged and torn on broken...
upon this now abandoned porch
must’ve toiled a daily wage
within the fields and garden gate
hanging now as rotted wood
Whoever cooked within this kitchen
canning beans and plucking chicken
surely did so with such care
her flower vase still sitting there
with wilted bloom on withered stem
Whoever slept within this room
of hand-sewn curtains billowing-
snagged and torn on broken...
#countryside
#nature
#ghosts
#historical
#RobertFrost
1027 reads
25 Comments
Thor_Azine
Poem Published
5th Sep 2024 6:58pm
5th Sep 2024 6:58pm
The Ink I Bleed
Eyes closed, adrift in a dystopian delusion
flailing in the quicksand of someone
else’s hourglass, sinking only to be turned
around again and drowned
Who swings the pendulum, can I not
choose my own reality as I press my
legs against the glass, if it breaks am I
cut into a million stars, or am I left
whole, carrying the scars of a universe
Perhaps the universe as we know it is
merely a glitter globe sitting on the desk
of a man dreaming about drowning, all of
us have hourglasses to shatter or die
Having...
flailing in the quicksand of someone
else’s hourglass, sinking only to be turned
around again and drowned
Who swings the pendulum, can I not
choose my own reality as I press my
legs against the glass, if it breaks am I
cut into a million stars, or am I left
whole, carrying the scars of a universe
Perhaps the universe as we know it is
merely a glitter globe sitting on the desk
of a man dreaming about drowning, all of
us have hourglasses to shatter or die
Having...
#emptiness
#ghosts
#regret #TimeHeals
#regret #TimeHeals
19 reads
8 Comments
Thor_Azine
Poem Published
5th Sep 2024 6:58pm
5th Sep 2024 6:58pm
The Ink I Bleed
Eyes closed, adrift in a dystopian delusion
flailing in the quicksand of someone
else’s hourglass, sinking only to be turned
around again and drowned
Who swings the pendulum, can I not
choose my own reality as I press my
legs against the glass, if it breaks am I
cut into a million stars, or am I left
whole, carrying the scars of a universe
Perhaps the universe as we know it is
merely a glitter globe sitting on the desk
of a man dreaming about drowning, all of
us have hourglasses to shatter or die
Having...
flailing in the quicksand of someone
else’s hourglass, sinking only to be turned
around again and drowned
Who swings the pendulum, can I not
choose my own reality as I press my
legs against the glass, if it breaks am I
cut into a million stars, or am I left
whole, carrying the scars of a universe
Perhaps the universe as we know it is
merely a glitter globe sitting on the desk
of a man dreaming about drowning, all of
us have hourglasses to shatter or die
Having...
#emptiness
#ghosts
#regret #TimeHeals
#regret #TimeHeals
19 reads
8 Comments
Thor_Azine
Poem Published
5th Sep 2024 6:58pm
5th Sep 2024 6:58pm
The Ink I Bleed
Eyes closed, adrift in a dystopian delusion
flailing in the quicksand of someone
else’s hourglass, sinking only to be turned
around again and drowned
Who swings the pendulum, can I not
choose my own reality as I press my
legs against the glass, if it breaks am I
cut into a million stars, or am I left
whole, carrying the scars of a universe
Perhaps the universe as we know it is
merely a glitter globe sitting on the desk
of a man dreaming about drowning, all of
us have hourglasses to shatter or die
Having...
flailing in the quicksand of someone
else’s hourglass, sinking only to be turned
around again and drowned
Who swings the pendulum, can I not
choose my own reality as I press my
legs against the glass, if it breaks am I
cut into a million stars, or am I left
whole, carrying the scars of a universe
Perhaps the universe as we know it is
merely a glitter globe sitting on the desk
of a man dreaming about drowning, all of
us have hourglasses to shatter or die
Having...
#emptiness
#ghosts
#regret #TimeHeals
#regret #TimeHeals
19 reads
8 Comments
DU Poetry : Poems About Ghosts Published by Members Recently Online
