Ghost Light
While walking through
our western town at dusk
I noticed a light on one of the buildings.
At first I thought it was a reflection,
but standing directly in front of it,
the light did not diminish,
instead it moved up and down
and then moved along the building
and onto another one.
Now I know the town is haunted,
for this is not the first time
I have experienced it,
but whatever the ghost light was
it only stayed for about ten minutes,
then it simply faded away.
19 July 2008
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Full Moon
The moon wore a halo
as dusk turned into night
and the nocturnal creatures
came out to enjoy the light,
an incoming tide
basked under the full moon light
as time moved on
with no rest bite.
14 September 2008
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Shall Not Be Moved
You will take my breath away,
Gild my heart with your love-
I shall not be moved.
My eyes will gloat at your sashay,
My lips will droll at your pulchritude-
I shall not be moved.
You will come with religions of faiths,
A heap of mountains you have moved-
Still I shall not be moved.
You will give me strongest of philtres,
Your touch will erect my one weakness-
But I shall not be moved.
You will light my darkest paths,
Move me here to there-
Yet I shall not be moved.
You will sing our song,
Your love for me will exceed eternity,
Even then, I shall not be moved.
You will live for me,
Die for me- For the last time-
I shall not be moved.
poem by Isunge Mwangase
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Light Is
Light is the breaking of dawn
Light is the load when you are just born
Light is a place without any fear
Light is when your lover is near
Light is a heart that's open and free
Light is a place where truth you can see
Light is a feeling that's good
Light is when everything's clear, understood
Light is the absence of dark
Light is a summer picnic in a beautiful park
Light is just simply walking on air
Light is what makes the shine in her hair
Light is what warms and what feeds
Light is not having any more needs
Light is a magical feeling inside
Light is the side of the street to reside
Light is always and always will be
Light is what joins us, him, you and me
Light Is.
poem by David Taylor
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Light
Light that can be kind. Light that can smell sweet. Light that can be soft.
Light that can be porcelain. Light that can be silent. Light that can speak.
Light that can hold many colors. Light that can be romantic. Light that can be harsh.
Light that can be cold. Light that can be warm. Light that can be dry.
Light that can be loud. Light that can be love. Light that can be faith.
Light that can be full of strength. Light that can be pure. Light that can be dark.
Light that can be fragile. Light that can be crazy. Light that can be weird.
Light that can be old. Light that can be new. Light that can be inbetween.
Light that can be swift. Light that can be sharp. Light that can wonder.
Light that can be insane. Light that can be smooth. Light that can dream.
Light that can be free. Light that can be everlasting. Light that can be wild.
Light that is the lord. Light that is Jesus. Light that is holy.
Light that is the trinity. Light that can belong. Light that can be fast.
Light that can sing. Light that is the holy ghost. Light that is the Bible.
Light that can be a mith. Light that can be still. Light that can be different.
Light that can be hole. Light that can be true. Light that can be whimsical.
Light that can be bright. Light that can be formed. Light that is blessed.
Light that can be full of presence. Light that can tell a story. Light that can be intelligent.
Light that is like no other!
poem by Shania K. Younce
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Our Town Ghost
Five of us were playing cards
while outside someone was banging
as if, they were constructing something.
I got up to see who it was,
but there was no one there.
I scratched my head and returned
to the hand I was playing.
About a half an hour later,
we heard someone walking about.
With torch in hand, I went again to investigate.
Again, there was no one there.
I shone the torch up and down the street.
The footsteps had stopped by now.
We could only guess it was the ghost,
which roams around our little town.
It hurts no one and no one is afraid of it.
Some say it our old friend Jock.
Other say it is someone else.
Unless one of us sees it, we will never be sure.
Whoever it is we wish
they would show themselves occasionally,
so we would then know whom to say goodnight to.
5 February 2009
Authors Note:
I belong to a small Western re-enactment town called Deadwood.
The town is haunted by an arrangement of ghosts, none of them harmful. A number us have witnessed several unusual things. The poem recounts an incident, which happened one night a few years ago when five of us were playing card in the back of one the building at gone midnight.
poem by David Harris
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Standin In My Light
(ian hunter)
Well I finally found you out
All through your mess of dreams
You wont make it to the night
And your standing in my light
You know youve been bad for me
You aint got the weight to hate
But you aint no pretty sight
And your standing in my light
Move over cause your standing in my light
Move over cause your standing in my light
Move over cause your standing in my light (yeah)
Move over cause your standing in my light
Now when your old man beats the drums
Gotta run run run thats dumb
A little less ego a little more fight
Move over cause your standing in my light
Things go bad and the risks get high
Sweeping dead bodies cross an open sky
You took my pictures from your walls
Aint gonna trade with the pain of the new york dolls
Move over cause your standin in my
(move over cause your standin in my)
Move over cause your standin in my
(move over cause your standin in my)
Move over cause you standin in my
(move over cause your standin in my)
Move over cause you standing in my light
Move over cause your standing in my light
Move over cause your standing in my light
Move over cause your standing in my light
Move over cause your standing in my light
Move over cause your standing in my light yeah.......alright
Move over cause your standing in my light
I wish you luck on your very last chance
Cause I knew you blew it at the song and dance
You froze my feelings, but thats alright
And your standing in my light
song performed by by Ian Hunter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ghost Town
This town is coming like a ghost town
All the clubs have been closed down
This place is coming like a ghost town
Bands wont play no more
Too much fighting on the dance floor
Do you remember the good old days before the ghost town?
We danced and sang as the music played in any boomtown
This town is coming like a ghost town
Why must the youth fight against themselves?
Government leaving the youth on the shelf
This place is coming like a ghost town
No job to be found in this country
Cant go on no more
The people getting angry
song performed by by Prodigy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A woman will have a taker
One woman is fair; I was moved.
The other one is wise; I was moved.
The third one is modest; I was moved.
The fourth one is rich; I was moved.
The fifth one is smart; I was moved.
Any woman will have a taker.
10.06.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Effigy
You are the only person I know
But I take you round to people who are on the go
Well you took me to a picture show
And what's the first thing I see
But them burning pictures of my head to toe, hey!
I'm not an effigy, no, no!
I asked you if you would be mad
If I packed my things and moved away to faraway land
Well I packed my things and I moved to this place
And what's the first thing I see
But them burning pictures of me in my face, hey!
I'm not an effigy, no, no!
Well I moved back from this faraway land
Walked right into a room with me mum and me dad
Well I saw my picture hanging on the wall
They tried to rip it and burn it
But it just withstood it all and I said hey!
I'm not an effigy
I'm not angry
I'm not an effigy... hey!
Well walking around this stinking town
I look up at the buildings and they get me down
Well I look to my left and then I look to my right
And then I realize they've been striking at me
Since the middle of last night, hey!
I'm not an effigy
song performed by by Ministry
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Faith Collapsing
you are the only person I know
but I take you round to people who are on the go
well you took me to a picture show
and what's the first thing I see
but them burning pictures of my head to toe, hey!
i'm not an effigy, no, no!
I asked you if you would be mad
if I packed my things and moved away to faraway land
well I packed my things and I moved to this place
and what's the first thing I see
but them burning pictures of me in my face, hey!
i'm not an effigy, no, no!
well I moved back from this faraway land
walked right into a room with me mum and me dad
well I saw my picture hanging on the wall
they tried to rip it and burn it
but it just withstood it all and I said hey!
i'm not an effigy
i'm not angry
i'm not an effigy... hey!
well walking around this stinking town
I look up at the buildings and they get me down
well I look to my left and then I look to my right
and then I realize they've been striking at me
since the middle of last night, hey!
i'm not an effigy
song performed by by Ministry
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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July....
July is the month where the families get the barbeque grills fired up.
July is the month where the night sky is light up with fire works.
July is the month where many families go out of town to be with family.
July is the month where many kids are dreary because it’s a month away for school.
July is the month where America gets to celebrate its independence from England.
July is the month where many people are dying of the heat of the summer.
July is my favorite month because it’s the time that I get to be myself around my family.
poem by Natasha Ligons
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London
London, a silhouette of old and new buildings,
some, still with winding staircases,
dark dismal cellars and dusty attics.
Sky scrapers, office blocks,
chic cottages and town houses
in, tiny, back street lanes
where I seldom wander
The London Eye revolves in the sky line,
spying on us, ogling the City,
that old river Thames,
with its river boats, old ships,
odd ships and the Houses of Parliament,
offices, where we, the peasants
may only look through the glass.
As a child I truly believed
that one day, I'd go into every building,
curiosity my forte, but of course,
there are too many, mostly private,
barred from my prying eyes,
except for some Castles, the Palace,
the Tower and its dungeons.
These are the buildings of London,
with its art galleries, theatres,
churches and museums.
No doubt some are haunted,
their ghosts still walking
within their walls,
at dusk, when shadows fall.
poem by Ruth Walters
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lighting a Memorial Candle for One of the Six Million
Even if I could light six million lights
I could not rekindle your light
And your’s was only one
Not one in a million
But one of six million
Snuffed out, blown out, crushed out
Lights
“Let there be light” and the world was full of light
And your light brought light to your world
Your home
Your family
Your street
Your town
Each year
Until the darkness came
And put out all the lights.
So now I stand
Match in hand
To light a light
Not your light for you
But your light for me
To brighten my world
My home
My family
My street
My town
Each year
Until the darkness is no more
And the world is full of light.
poem by Lewis Eron
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Letter In The Mail
If I could go down now
While the whole town is sleeping
See the sun creeping up on the hill
I know the river and the railroad
Would run through the valley still
I guess it never was much to look at
Just a one-horse town
The kind of place young people want to leave today
Store fronts pretty much boarded up
Main street pretty much closed down
The church bell still rings on sunday
Old folks still go
The young ones listen on the radio
Saturday night nothing but a stray dog running wild
Like nobodys child
And little by little, light after light
Thats how it died
They say you never go home again
Thats no lie
Its like a letter in the mail
To a brother in jail
Its a matter of time
Until you can do a little bit better time
It used to be part of the heartland
Awful proud and strong
But deep, deep down peaceful and serene
When people used to talk about the country
Thats what they used to mean
I might go down come the weekend
Go on my own
Drop off annie and the baby
Maybe drive alone
Pay my last respects to a time
That has all but gone
We said, mama come look at the mountain
Fire in the sky
Its lit up like the fourth of july
The mill burning down
The jobs leaving town
The trains rolling by
And little by little, light after light
Thats how it died
They say you never go home again
Thats no lie
Its just a letter in the mail
To a brother in jail
Its a matter of time
Until you can do a little bit better time
song performed by by James Taylor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Burn On
You light the light in my dark places
The brightest smile in a sea of faces
Oh you watched me
You calmed me down just when I thought
Id drown
You lit a flame inside
I dont know how
But they cannot turn the light out on me now
You put a song in my dark silence
You moved my feet when I could not dance
And you caught me just when I fell
You stilled my hell of storms
You coloured all my greys
I dont know how
And they cannot turn the light out on me now
Chorus burn on, oh lovely light
Burn on, there goes the night
Burn on till all the universe is shining in your light
Burn on, burn on, burn on
song performed by by Cliff Richard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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How I Became Known As Dodgy Dave
From time to time people ask me
how I got the name Dodgy Dave
and why I take no offence at it.
The story starts about six or seven years ago
when I joined a Western Re-Enactment Society.
I went to help build a western town
that eventually became know as Deadwood.
As the date for near completion came
the only building left to be finished was the Church.
The original builders had left it only half built.
The owner of the farm
on which the town is built
wanted it finished for our grand opening day.
Someone suggested that because of all the help,
I had given, why I don’t take it on
and they would help me finish it,
but I needed a town name
that would go along with the building,
I thought for a moment and then said
what about Reverend Mr Black
after the old Kingston Trio song.
So for a couple of years
I became known as Rev. Mr Black.
Two of my friends Buck and Caroline
(better know to one and all as Caz)
were planning their wedding.
They were going to have an official ceremony
on the Friday and on the Saturday;
they were to have another wedding in the town.
They asked if I would marry them in the town ceremony.
I told them I would be honoured.
Caz then went around telling everyone,
family and friends
that Dodgy Dave the vicar was going to marry them,
but he isn’t dodgy,
it’s just my pet name for him.
Soon everybody started calling me Dodgy Dave.
However, with every nice story
somehow sadness always intervenes.
Six weeks before their wedding,
this pretty woman who had renamed me Dodgy Dave
died at the tender age of thirty.
We held a wake for her in the town
on the day she and Buck were to marry.
It was a sad affair,
but her memory remains with me
every time someone calls me Dodgy Dave.
There are so many memories attached to that name.
It was never given out of malice,
but out of friendship sincere.
Now the name Dodgy Dave
has become very dear to me.
I use it all the time,
because when I do it reminds me
of the young woman with fair hair
whose friendship I treasured so
and I never want to let the memory of her go.
So there you have it
the story behind the christening
of me to Dodgy Dave
11 March 2008
poem by David Harris
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Mist
The mist moved across the field
swallowing up everything in its path.
A white blanket that hovered
inches above the ground.
It came in the cool of dawn
and vanished like a ghost
near the beginning of the day.
While it stayed, you could not see
anything within a foot of thee.
The mist that came like a sleeking ghost
was now gone after being hit
by the rays of the morning sun.
27 September 2008
poem by David Harris
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And I Was Moved
They came running down the road
like something resembling
a stampeding Buffalo herd.
“There he is! ” Someone shouted.
I looked around to see
whom they were shouting about,
but there was no one, only me.
I looked again as the pens came out.
“Let’s get his autograph! ”
And I was moved,
moved so much I started to run
towards them, arms open wide.
And I was moved again,
being carried along by the herd.
“It is him! It’s Robbie Williams! ”
Now who the heck is he?
I though it was Dodgy Dave’s autograph they wanted,
but no it was only in my dreams I’m afraid.
5 July 2008
poem by David Harris
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First Light
First light is not seen
By many these days
Either they're still asleep
Covers over thier head or
On the train or
In cars with all their lights on
Or already
In imporant meetings
Then there are buildings
In the way with other lights on
So it is hard to tell
When dawn first breaks
For those out walking or
Sitting on a bench overlooking the lake
It is a sight that restores
The wonder you had as a child
Makes you believe that you can help
Make it right in this world
For some it's only at this time
With dawn just coming up
Before it gets too bright
And the rest of the town
Is awake going
Their separate ways
In daylight there are winners and losers
People keep score
The light gets brighter
People more intense
And then it is dark again
poem by Tom J. Mariani
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A White Architect Of Light
8.8.88: She came back from the land of democrative destiny and dissolved
into the chaotic void.
Fighting for the freedom of reality
Building the light house in the darkest hours of life
Fixing up the spiritual essence through the existential nothingness
in the valueless zone
Layers by layers, realities of life theatre are turned into distilled light
out of trapped reflections
Mother of modern Myanmar honoured by consciencious tree of life
Curving away all the unnecessary parts
Curving away all the necessary parts
Communication revolution of the 21 st century
Aung San Su Kyi, The White Architect Of Light
Light's shadow is light
Light's shadow is light
Light's shadow is light
Aung San Su Kyi, The White Architect Of Light
Light's shadow is light
Light's shadow is light
Light's shadow is light
Aung San Su Kyi, The White Architect Of Light
Light's shadow is light
Light's shadow is light
Light's shadow is light
Aung San Su Kyi, The White Architect Of Light
Light's shadow is light
Light's shadow is light
Light's shadow is light
Aung San Su Kyi, The White Architect Of Light
Light's shadow is light
Light's shadow is light
Light's shadow is light
Aung San Su Kyi, The White Architect Of Light
Light's shadow is light
Light's shadow is light
Light's shadow is light