Ghost
In darkness, oppressed, null and intrigued,
I know that you’re there, fear and fatigued.
Fingertips gently rapping on wood,
I cannot fathom whether you’re sinister or good.
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Your breath caresses, possesses my thought,
Insomnia bleeds, my nerves distraught.
Footsteps intrude upon the top of the stairs,
My focus on every sound that descends, despair.
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Laughter, a murmur destroys my resolve,
I quiver in fear of if a spectre evolves.
My eyes peering through fingers in hide,
Everything tightens and cripples me inside.
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An apparition I witness adrift through the wall,
I’m unable to scream or beckon in call.
A child in all its innocence in mist,
I freeze and crumble behind open fist.
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Comments
Haha Iv just done spooky one too :) abfabÂ
Thanks Jill I'll pop by and give it a read.
When I moved into my home many years ago, I found photographs of children behind a closet, innocent perhaps, bath time, nothing sinister but I didn't want them in my new home.
I took them downstairs were I burned them in an open fire, suddenly the air changed, I would wake repeatedly each night, a presence on my stairs, screaming and shouting incoherently.
Many restless nights, uneasy days, terrified to sleep, it went on far too long until I decided to get a spiritual medium in, I never made the connection between the photographs and the ghost.
Turns out it was the grandmother of the kids, she was hiding the photographs to remind her timeless soul of a life once lived.
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Wow that sounds really interesting. I love anything of that nature. Thank you for your comment and sharing that story.
You've captured fear in a spectacular way and the rhythm of this poem is matched by your perfectly chosen words, Simon!
Thank you Ian. Always intrigued and flattered by your comments.