The Old House
The candle flame flickers from a draft
on a dark and stormy night,
the floorboards creak with every step
as I move about the old house.
There is a chill in the air,
that seems to be everywhere,
and the clock’s tick sounds louder
as time passes hour to hour.
I hear the thunder rumble in the night
and see lightning illuminate the sky
and I stop and listen intently
to the yawns and groans that echo in my ears.
The old house’s settling graces
that are always heard in the quiet of the night.
My heart beats against my chest
as my imagination begins to fly.
I breath in the musty air within the room
where I am about to sleep.
Everywhere the shadows move
under the light of my flickering candle.
I know the old house is not haunted,
but my mind tells me other wise.
My imagination creates noises
where the dancing shadows fall.
I gaze about suspiciously
knowing that there is nothing there
as a branch outside taps my window
wanting to come in out of the storm.
The curtains move from a draft
as if something is sheltering behind them.
All of which make my mind
thinks of ghost stories I have been told.
In bed, I slip under the cover,
and then blow the candle out
as something gets on the bed
resting across my legs for the night.
My ears detect the slightest sound
in the blackness that surrounds me
and I am blind to everything
on this stormy moonless night.
The streaks of dawn break through the window
and the terrors of the night have fled.
I smile at my imagination
as I lay there with the cat upon the bed.
The old house is reputed to be haunted,
but take it from one who lives there
that the only ghosts are our imagination
and on dark and stormy nights it grows.
5 June 2010
poem by David Harris
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The Ghost
The yawning creak of the door
as ivy branches tap the windowpane,
dancing shadows from the candle
caught in a draught from beneath the door.
I sit in what is reputed to be a very haunted room
waiting to see a ghost no one has ever seen.
They’ve only heard the wailing
in the middle of the night.
Therefore, I’m sitting here
my imagination wanting to play tricks
on me as darkness falls.
I’ve come to help this lost wailing spirit
that seems bound to this room
and to help release it
into the heavenly light,
also to find its secret
why it is bound to this room.
The town clock chimes midnight.
I wait, but nothing happens.
Maybe the lost wailing spirit
has taken the night off.
A voice sounded from the gloom.
“Excuse me, are you still up? ”
I looked around
and there by the doorway
stood a tall dark figure there.
“Yes, how can I help you? ”
“Please put out the candle
as it is keeping me awake.”
“But this room is haunted
and I’m waiting to see the ghost.”
Then came, a hearty chuckle
from the dark figure.
“So they got you at as well.
Turn out the candle
and get good nights sleep.
There is no ghost here.
Who on earth told you that.
Whoever it was
just tell them Smiler told you so.”
The next morning
after one of the best sleeps,
I have ever had.
I told the proprietor who had invited me.
They laughed when I told them
that Smiler had told me so.
When they stopped laughing
they said. “Smiler is the ghost
we were telling you about.”
poem by David Harris
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In Thou dark stormy Night
All alone in the night
All alone with my own fright
A lightning strikes, runs across the dead black sky
I am alone
but I wonder, why?
In Thou dark stormy night
In Thou dark stormy night
I call your name with all my might
All alone hanging in the night
My arms are sore, my soul is light
I hear the thunder, in the cloudy black sky
I am scared
but I don't know, why?
In Thou dark stormy night
in Thou dark stormy night
I call your name with all my might
Inside Your house in the night
Calling Your name with all my might
Father! Father! Why have you forsaken me?
'You must die so my people can be free.'
In Thou dark stormy night
In Thou dark stormy night
Jesus drew his final breath
Saving us all from our own eternal death
poem by Summer Song
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Creatures
The lights in the house have all gone off,
perhaps the storm is the reason why.
The flash light batteries are all dead,
but there's a candle to get you by.
In the dark you search for a box of matches
and swear they were in the kitchen draw.
You come across a box with only two inside,
that's one extra just to make sure.
One match is spent, but the candle is lit,
what will you do with your time
The thunder claps and lightning flashes,
and shadows dance on the blinds.
You are nervous and alone in your house,
and decide to retire for the night.
The shadows accompany you to your bed,
one jumps and gives you a fright.
Lying in your bed you cannot sleep
and listen to the noises of the storm.
An uneasy feeling still lies with you,
but at least you're snug and warm.
You swear you heard an unusual noise
followed by a high pitched shrill.
Can you really hear finger nails scratching
around the windowpane and sill?
Did you lock the bedroom door,
can you say that in all honesty?
Should you check just to make sure?
There, I told you, I did turn the key.
Locking your windows and doors
won't stop the creatures getting in.
They can enter whenever they want,
if you're awake or even sleeping.
poem by Orlando Belo
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Fascinating Figures In A Flickering Candle Light
The candle flickering
throws fascinating figures
to dance across the walls.
Silhouettes that move
in opulent rhythms,
which are hidden, from our ears.
Fascinating figures that capture
all our imagination can see,
dancing on a faint breeze
that wafts the candle flame
in jubilant games
into the darkened night.
We sit mesmerized by it all
as the silhouettes dance
and sway across the walls,
brought to life by
the flickering candle light.
poem by David Harris
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Moths
The leaded window opened
To move the dancing candle flame
And the first moths of summer
Suicidal came.
And a new breeze chattered
In its may-bud tenderness ---
Sending water-lillies sailing
As she turned to get undressed.
And the long night awakened
And we soared on powdered wings ---
Circling our tomorrows
In the wary month of spring.
Chasing shadows slipping
In a magic lantern slide ---
Creatures of the candle
On a night-light-ride.
Dipping and weaving --- flutter
Through the golden needles eye
In our haystack madness. butterfly-stroking
On a spring-tide high.
Lifes too long (as the lemming said)
As the candle burned and the moths were wed.
And well all burn together as the wick grows higher ---
Before the candles dead.
The leaded window opened
To move the dancing candle flame.
And the first moths of summer
Suicidal came
To join in the worship
Of the light that never dies
In a moments reflection
Of two moths spinning in her eyes.
song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To-Night, To-Night
to-night, to-night
we’ll storm
the house that hangs
above the narrow street
that leads to port.
Ah! that small house
How queer it is:
Its garden how deranged
How creaking
The iron stile
That opens into the garden!
And in the night
The stormy night
None go near the house
For all around
The ground’s unsanctified
By horses’ hooves
And elves and goblins green
And ghosts unseen.
poem by Emmanuel George Cefai
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It Must Be Imagination
by Kenny Loggins & Tom Snow
When the feeling isn't right
They say you see it in a lovers eye
But I'm wide awake tonight
'N I'm looking for a reason why
It doesn't show
Still somehow I know
Tell me that it just ain't so
Say I made the whole thing up
It must be imagination
Why can't I forget it
God, you'd think I'd know better
It must be imagination
Gone completely out of my mind
It must be imagination
Tearin' me apart
'N breakin' my heart
You can say what is real
You can tell me if I'm in a dream
'Cause I know what I feel
But I don't know what to believe
Turn on the night light
Even if it takes us all night
I gotta be sure by daylight
If I've made this whole thing up
It must be imagination
Tell me if I'm right
'Cause it's changing my life
It must be imagination
Everybody knows
There ain't no way to fight it
It must be imagination
Breakin' my heart
'N tearing me apart
If I'm only dreamin'
Then I'm cryin' in my sleep
You should be shakin' me
Why ain't you wakin' me up?
It must be imagination
God I must be losin' my mind
It must be imagination
Does anybody know
Is there anyway to fight it?
It must be imagination
All in my mind, all in my mind
It must be imagination
If you wanna go, I just got to know
It must be imagination
Oooh tell me what's the problem
Why you wanna go on breakin' my heart?
1982 Milk Money Music (ASCAP) and
Snow Music (BMI)
song performed by by Kenny Loggins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Candle In The Window
Written by susan longacre, walt aldridge, and gary baker
Theres a road that I remember leading to a special place
Where the door was always open to a smiling face
Theres a picture on the mantle of a boy that looks like me
Its always the same, theres a stocking with my name
And a candle in the window, a flame against the night
Theres a candle in the window, its like gods perfect light
It dont take a lot of money to know what riches are
Just a candle in the window
Maybe its just wishful thiking I can hear the sleigh bells ring
Almost taste teh pie shes baking, its christmas eve
And theres a candle in the window, a flame against the night
The candle in the window, its like gods perfect light
It dont take a lot of money to know what riches are
Just a candle in the window and christmas in your heart
Wherever the years may take me no matter how far I go
Theres going to be a candle burning, its always nice to know
It dont take a lot of money to know what riches are
Just a candle in the window and christmas in your heart
song performed by by Alabama
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Leave A Candle
Leave a candle burning bright
So that I may see tonight
The darkness pushing all around
Drowning out my every sound
Leave a candle on the sill
If no one does so then I will
I'll light the candle on my own
And I'll fight on all alone
Leave a candle let it sing
Else I can't stop my cutting
My blood will flow out, drip, and fall
As shadows move across the wall
Leave a candle to the end
It shall be my only friend
Let it burn untill my death
And blow it out with my last breath
Leave a candle in the dark
So it leaves it's glowing mark
And guides me to my final rest
Cause I failed the living test
poem by Anonymous Ghurl
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Candles
Faith for reasons still unknown
Like bleak house fog seems everywhere
The truth has frozen into stone
And hope lies freezing in the midnight air
Though dark our days may seem
This is a different dream
Their freedom light dont shine at all
So I will light a candle for you
Keep it burning in the night
And pray that you are all right
I will light a candle for you
Little candle burning bright
When school yard heroes disappeared
The little girl, she stands alone
Oh I believe you if you say
A prayer can help to get her home
So I will light a candle for you
Keep it burning in the night
And pray that you are all right
I will light a candle for you
Little candle burning bright
song performed by by Chris Rea
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A haunted house
it stands on multiple wooden poles
and right between them a flight of stairs
that goes up straight to the back or kitchen
so that when somebody walks down you see
his feet, shins and thighs before you see the person
the house faces a huge raintree
that divides two roads
car lamps therefore shine directly onto
the poles of the house and cast shadows
that flash and lift themselves up over the
compound
the house they say is haunted
at night bus uses to stop just outside
to let passengers down
their shadows invariably running all
over the house when a car comes
in the opposite direction
everything then seems to be moving
except its unrelenting quietness
and forboding menacing atmosphere
i once was let down here
one last passenger in the dead of night
all the nooks and corners of the
abandoned house all of a sudden
became eyes that stared at me
like eager and lonely ghosts
longing for friends
my heart beat faster than my legs
could carry me
the house stood solemnly quiet
like an old, cold, lonely woman in despair
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Ghost In A Haunted House
All was quiet, nary a sound.
Yet there seemed to be something around.
The halls were vacant, the rooms quite bare
but the presence of something was always there.
It moved at night and left its scent
perfuming the air wherever it went.
The house is bought. People move in.
All is silent 'til noises begin.
Creaks and steps that sound in the air
awaken the people that stop and stare.
Nothing is seen but the air turns cold.
The ghost in this house is suddenly bold.
Presents itself in shadowy form.
All around, a space that's not warm
appears as a shadow draped in white
gripping the hearts of the people in fright.
'Who's there?
Who's there? ' comes the cry.
The answer is muffled but the wail is high.
The house is haunted. We cannot stay.
The ghost that's here wants us away.
A child says, 'That's not the case.
I've seen the ghost. I've seen its face.
It smiled at me and let me know
that it's only a ghost with nowhere to go.'
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Shadow March
All around the house is the jet-black night;
It stares through the window-pane;
It crawls in the corners, hiding from the light,
And it moves with the moving flame.
Now my little heart goes a beating like a drum,
With the breath of the Bogies in my hair;
And all around the candle and the crooked shadows come,
And go marching along up the stair.
The shadow of the balusters, the shadow of the lamp,
The shadow of the child that goes to bed--
All the wicked shadows coming tramp, tramp, tramp,
With the black night overhead.
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
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Next Dark Night
The night is silent,
I'm in the middle,
what a deafening sound
the darkness is comforting
no one see me while I'm crashing.
But I wish, I have you like my candle
so, I don't have to stumble,
If you hear me, would you come
will you stay with me through the dark.
Because the night is cooler,
darker
older,
closer, I can't breath.
My mind is turning, searching for you,
why are you so far
I wanna be where you are,
stay with me,
let's stay with each other
through the next dark night.
Through the next dark night
maybe I won't be afraid
to do what is right
just hold me tight
and don't let me do the fight....
alone.
I know, we can make it
no matter how high the wall
no matter how dark the night,
we could pass
we could stand tall
we don't let each other fall
even the next dark night...
come.
poem by Yellowbell Alamanda
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The Vain Spell
THE house sleeps dark and the moon wakes white,
The fields are alight with dew;
'Oh, will you not come to me, Love, to-night?
I have waited the whole night through,
For I knew,
O Heart of my heart, I knew by my heart,
That the night of all nights is this,
When elm shall crack and lead shall part,
When moulds shall sunder and shot bolts start
To let you through to my kiss.'
So spake she alone in the lonely house.
She had wrapped her round with the spell,
She called the call, she vowed the vow,
And the heart she had pledged knew well
That this was the night, the only night,
When the moulds might be wrenched apart,
When the living and dead, in the dead of the night,
Might clasp once more, in the grave's despite,
For the price of a living heart.
But out in the grave the corpse lay white
And the grave clothes were wet with dew;
'Oh, will you not come to me, Love, to-night,
I have waited the whole night through,
For I knew
That I dared not leave my grave for an hour
Since the hour of all hours is near,
When you shall come to the hollow bower,
In a cast of the wind, in a waft of the Power,
To the heart that to-night beats here!'
The moon grows pale and the house sleeps still
Ah, God! do the dead forget?
The grave is white and the bed is chill,
But a guest may be coming yet.
But the hour has come and the hour has gone
That never will come again;
Love's only chance is over and done,
And the quick and the dead are twain, not one,
And the price has been paid in vain.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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The Mystery House
That door had been shut for years
No sound ever passed its ears
Its eyes were starved, for light,
Inside was just silent Night
Why was it closed, what had it been
Had it some kind of mishap seen
Was it waiting for its master, last,
To free it from some spell he cast
The wood cracked, the metal, rusted
cobwebs on its top vested
' The house of ghosts ',
it was taunted
Little John too knew the house was haunted
Eerie spirits, you could hear all night,
poor Ken, you see, huddled in fright
mother forbade, no one went close
into the death trap, none tried nor chose
' The Winchester House ', it was named once
None gave the manor's house a glance
I believe the house, will forever remain
Yet none its mystery will ever explain.
poem by Vishnu Sampoorn
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Candles
candle
it is used to light up
your years
candle
it is used to blow out
your years
candle
it is used to turn shadows
into animals
candle
it is used to help us see
the real from the shadows
candle
love and passion drip
through the wedding night
candle
a lump of spent energy
after all is over
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Night
I sleep all day
But live the night
Listening and watching by flickering candle light
The night speaks of words i can not say
The night comforts me unlike the day
For the dark is my friend
The not knowing of whats near
Or around the bend
Well night is the same as day
For some its a scary mystery they say
But its only the light thats gone away
Radio Heart
I lose myself in the night
Walking the streets in the rain.
I turn away from the light
To find the shadows again.
I see her face in the window
I feel the touch of her hand
I hear her voice say I need you
I guess I cant understand
Radio heart
Play a sad song for me
One fom the heart
So shell come back for me
Radio heart
Send her my love for me
I hear a sound in the night
Could be the turn of a key
And when I switch on the light
Its you Im hoping to see
Imagination
You play a cruel cool game
Imagination
You leave me calling her name
Radio heart
Play a sad song for me
One from the heart
So shell come back for me
The morning after
I find no inspiration
No love no laughter
Just my imagination
song performed by by Gary Numan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Come, Night...
come, night...
night of the holy,
open arms outstretched,
wrapping all that hurts
and burns in cooling blackness.
come, night,
night of the candle lit,
of the curtains blown,
of the silent whispers.
come, night,
night of the glass upturned,
of the laughter of comrades,
of the talking of the eyes.
come, night,
night of the bodies wrapped,
the tongues electric,
the hardness and the wetness.
come, night,
night of quiet reflection,
of soulful introspection,
of prayer beyond words.
come, night,
night of sleep eternal,
of the wind that leaves the body,
and searches the depths of emptiness.
come, night...
let us walk!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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