The Inheritance
Since you did depart
Out of my reach, my darling,
Into the hidden,
I see each shadow start
With recognition, and I
Am wonder-ridden.
I am dazed with the farewell,
But I scarcely feel your loss.
You left me a gift
Of tongues, so the shadows tell
Me things, and silences toss
Me their drift.
You sent me a cloven fire
Out of death, and it burns in the draught
Of the breathing hosts,
Kindles the darkening pyre
For the sorrowful, till strange brands waft
Like candid ghosts.
Form after form, in the streets
Waves like a ghost along,
Kindled to me;
The star above the house-top greets
Me every eve with a long
Song fierily.
All day long, the town
Glimmers with subtle ghosts
Going up and down
In a common, prison-like dress;
But their daunted looking flickers
To me, and I answer, Yes!
So I am not lonely nor sad
Although bereaved of you,
My little love.
I move among a kinsfolk clad
With words, but the dream shows through
As they move.
poem by David Herbert Lawrence
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Related quotes
Ghosts
Writers: leo sayer, les nicol & frank farrell
Ghosts
People that I left behind
Wondering lonely in the night
All in my memory
Dreams
Long forgotten flights of time
Flashbacks flooding through my mind
Of all the things you said to me
In the shadows where I walk
In the silence
The wind talks of you
Like a ghost
Haunting the night
So you wander through my life
Ghosts
People that I dont believe
Just what theyve got to do with me
Oh -- I cant see it
Ghosts
Long forgotten -- in time
Look at those flashbacks
Flooding through my mind
Of all the things youve said to me
In the shadows where I walk
In the silence
The wind talks of you
Just like a ghost
Haunting the night
You know you wander through my life
song performed by by Leo Sayer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Can't Stop Lovin' You (Though I Try)
Leo Sayer, Les Nicol & Frank Farrell
ghosts
people that I left behind
wondering lonely in the night
all in my memory
dreams
long forgotten flights of time
flashbacks flooding through my mind
of all the things you said to me
in the shadows where I walk
in the silence
the wind talks of you
like a ghost
haunting the night
so you wander through my life
ghosts
people that I don't believe
just what they've got to do with me
oh -- I can't see it
ghosts
long forgotten -- in time
look at those flashbacks
flooding through my mind
of all the things you've said to me
in the shadows where I walk
in the silence
the wind talks of you
just like a ghost
haunting the night
you know you wander through my life
song performed by by Leo Sayer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Class Distinction
A quiet house where quiet ghosts
haunt quiet rooms but silently
The Ghosts respect their living hosts
and treat them most respectfully.
They can’t go back they won’t go on.
Confused by their predicament,
they wait until the daylights gone
before they show they are present.
They do not wish to cause alarm.
as common ghosts are wont to do.
All part of their well bred charm.
Though they are dead they hold the view
that no aristocratic ghost
should stoop to frightening their host.
26-Mar-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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After Pulling Down And Rebuilding A House
OLD Ghosts, ye all are dispossess'd,
Your former house is levell'd now;
Another house at my behest
Has lifted over yours, its brow.
But flit, old Ghosts, and live with me;
As yet we are but living hosts;
But watch the new house patiently,
You soon shall have companion Ghosts.
poem by Carolyn Clive
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Ghostly Plateau
Ghosts make across the plateau due to their skill at being wanderers of great precision. Their ghoulishness makes a point for those on the plateau, so snowy now that we have ghosts. Ghost after ghost made journeys too long ago, too far away are their destinations, forming pity and concern. These graves remove the ghosts’ laughter, for the death of a young person is like theirs.
poem by Naveed Akram
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The Gaudy Flower
WHY does my Anna toss her head,
And look so scornfully around,
As if she scarcely deign'd to tread
Upon the daisy-dappled ground?
Does fancied beauty fire thine eye,
The brilliant tint, the satin skin?
Does the loved glass, in passing by,
Reflect a graceful form and thin?
Alas! that form, and brilliant fire,
Will never win beholder's love;
It may, indeed, make fools admire,
But ne'er the wise and good can move.
So grows the tulip, gay and bold,
The broadest sunshine its delight;
Like rubies, or like burnish'd gold,
It shows its petals, glossy bright.
But who the gaudy floweret crops,
As if to court a sweet perfume!
Admired it blows, neglected drops,
And sinks unheeded to its doom.
The virtues of the heart may move
Affections of a genial kind;
While beauty fails to stir our love,
And wins the eye, but not the mind.
poem by Ann Taylor
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The Ghost Of The New World
'_There are no ghosts in America._'
There are no ghosts, you say,
To haunt her blaze of light;
No shadows in her day,
No phantoms in her night.
Columbus' tattered sail
Has passed beyond our hail.
What? On that magic coast,
Where Raleigh fought with fate,
Or where that Devon ghost
Unbarred the Golden Gate,
No dark, strange, ear-ringed men
Beat in from sea again?
No ghosts in Salem town
With silver buckled shoon?
No lovely witch to drown
Or burn beneath the moon?
Not even a whiff of tea,
On Boston's glimmering quay.
O, ghostly Spanish walls,
Where brown Franciscans glide,
Is there no voice that calls
Across the Great Divide,
To pilgrims on their way
Along the Santa Fe?
Then let your Pullman cars
Go roaring to the West,
Till, watched by lonelier stars,
The cactus lifts its crest.
There, on that painted plain,
One ghost will rise again.
Majestic and forlorn,
Wreck of a dying race,
The Red Man, half in scorn,
Shall raise his haughty face,
Inscrutable as the sky,
To watch our ghosts go by.
What? Is earth dreaming still?
Shall not the night disgorge
The ghosts of Bunker Hill
The ghosts of Valley Forge,
Or, England's mightiest son,
The ghost of Washington?
No ghosts where Lincoln fell?
No ghosts for seeing eyes?
I know an old cracked bell
Shall make ten million rise
When one immortal ghost
Calls to the slumbering host.
poem by Alfred Noyes
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I Cant Sleep Without You Here
I cant sleep.
Without you here, I just cant sleep.
Its 3AM
And I’m awake again.
Through open eyes, I sing my lonely song, To the silver moonlight.
I am consumed by the lonely darkness, Of the night.
I cant sleep-
Because you seem so far away from me.
I cant sleep-
Because without you, By my side, I feel so lonely.
When I dream- I dream of our love’s delight-
Only to awake, Without you, By my side.
I’m stuck between longing and desire-
As in the darkness, Within my heart burns passions fire.
Without you here, Next to me, It just doesn’t feel right.
In the darkness, You’re my light!
Within my heart burns an unquenchable fire!
There’s so much more
Which I long for
And desire!
And I grow weary of the compromises, We have to make-
But we can both relate.
I cant sleep-
Because you seem so far away from me.
I cant sleep-
Because without you, By my side, I feel so lonely.
Every night without you- I cant help but want to reach out for
More!
Inside my heart-
You’re leaving a road map of all the places we’ve been.
Inside my heart-
Your love has burnt its mark so deep within.
And there’s so much more
For us to long for
And desire!
Within my heart burns passion’s fire!
I cant sleep-
Because you seem so far away from me.
I cant sleep-
Because without you, By my side, I feel so lonely.
I’m weary of the compromises, We have to make-
But you and I can both relate.
Each and every night, I cant help but want to reach out for
More!
And I cant sleep.
Without you here, I just cant sleep.
poem by Philip Alarie
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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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“Ghosts are for the telling”
Ghosts are for the telling,
We call them experts and impressive,
As more of them appear from the woods.
Ghosts have understood us for the rules,
So that mastering is a problem and real;
Our mothers want us to comply and so they result.
Each ghost is great in beauty,
Full of foolish whims and ideas,
Their wish is to comprehend us, even to master us.
A little ghost is no liar, but one of them,
And that degree is hidden,
For we strive to alienate it as much as we can.
The baby is asleep, the ghosts do weep,
And I am fast away in slumber;
Much are ghosts to do the enormous chatter before they die.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Move On
Hey, Shake It, Shake It, Shake It
There's A Monkey On My Back
Been There Much Too Long
Every Time I Kick It Off
Another One Comes Along
I Used To Be In Another World
I Used To Be Alone
It's So Hard To Be Yourself
When You Feel Like Something's Wrong
(chorus)
There Are No Words That Could Explain
You Gotta Move On
The Strongest Love In Vain
There Are No Words That Could Explain
Oh You Gotta Move On
The Strongest Love In Vain
She Said, "I've Had Enough Of Your Lies
Can't Wait For Anyone
The Beginning Of The End
Don't You Know That's All Wrong
When You Said Nothing Changes
You Meant To Say It Won't Take Long"
I Used To Be In Another World
I Used To Be Alone
It's So Hard To Be Yourself
When You Feel Like Something's Wrong
Move On
There Are No Words That Could Explain
You Gotta Move On
The Strongest Love In Vain
There Are No Words That Could Explain
I Said Move, You Gotta Move On
The Strongest Love In Vain
There Are No Words That Could Explain
You Gotta Move On
The Strongest Love In Vain
There Are No Words That Could Explain
Oh You Gotta Move On
The Strongest Love In Vain
Move It
Move On
There's A Question In My Head
Been There All Night Long
Well I Toss And Turn Inside My Head
But I Won't Let It Tear Me Down
Yeah, Used To Be In Another World
I Used To Be Alone, Yeah
There Are No Words That Could Explain
The Strongest Love In Vain
Oh You Gotta Move On
There Are No Words That Could Explain
You Gotta Move On
The Strongest Love In Vain
There Are No Words That Could Explain
Oh You Gotta Move On
The Strongest Love In Vain
Had Enough, Oh, Gotta Move On, Yeah
There Are No Words That Could Explain
The Strongest Love In Vain
(Repeat And Fade With Ad Lib)
Submitted by Michael Hack
song performed by by INXS
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ballade Of His Books
Here stand my books, line upon line
They reach the roof, and row by row,
They speak of faded tastes of mine,
And things I did, but do not, know:
Old school books, useless long ago,
Old Logics, where the spirit, railed in,
Could scarcely answer 'yes' or 'no' -
The many things I've tried and failed in!
Here's Villon, in morocco fine,
(The Poet starved, in mud and snow,)
Glatigny does not crave to dine,
And Rene's tears forget to flow.
And here's a work by Mrs. Crowe,
With hosts of ghosts and bogies jailed in;
Ah, all my ghosts have gone below -
The many things I've tried and failed in!
He's touched, this mouldy Greek divine,
The Princess D'Este's hand of snow;
And here the arms of D'Hoym shine,
And there's a tear-bestained Rousseau:
Here's Carlyle shrieking 'woe on woe'
(The first edition, this, he wailed in);
I once believed in him--but oh,
The many things I've tried and failed in!
ENVOY.
Prince, tastes may differ; mine and thine
Quite other balances are scaled in;
May you succeed, though I repine -
'The many things I've tried and failed in!'
poem by Andrew Lang
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Family Ghosts
This stately home is haunted by
The ghosts of those who spent
Most of their lives here in days gone bye.
Though seldom seen they still come here
and sometimes make their presence felt.
Although they don’t inspire fear.
You sometimes smell a faint perfume
Or hear a sound that should not be.
Although are alone in the room.
Though only if you’re sensitive
and you have an open mind
Believing spirits do survive
Death only means they’ve travelled on
To a different form of being.
But can return to look upon
Familiar scenes they used to know
Whilst they were still in human form
They are quite free to come and go
A feeling of serenity.
Convinces me my words are true.
Though you are free to disagree.
This stately home was occupied
by one family for centuries.
But when the very last one died.
He left it to the National trust.
Who have maintained it ever since
The ghost don’t care they can adjust.
If you should visit you may find
A welcome waiting for you here.
The family ghosts are very kind.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Moonlake Ghosts
There’s a lake off of Moon Lake Road,
where stories are woven and retold.
about longtime gangster Al Capone.
Now I stayed in a house
right across the street,
and believe me I did not see,
but I heard a ghost talk to me.
See now legend has it,
that Al put people in this lake,
Now ghosts are around make no mistake.
I was in this house with Uncle Lenny,
he wasn’t scared for he couldn’t
hear a dropp of a penny.
He told me the ghosts leave him alone,
for they know he's handicapped
unlike his nephew Tone.
Yes, Tony said he heard them too,
I don’t know if he’s lying
or what he says is true.
All I know I don’t want to go back,
you can laugh at me and call me a quack.
I’ld rather see a ghost
then have one move my stuff,
that is scary and this I can't rebuff,
It’s not like eating at Denny’s
and having a lunch,
I believe in ghosts with an
absolute hunch.
Written by Christina Sunrise Feb.21,2011
poem by Suzae Chevalier
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Ghosts By Moon Lake
There's a lake off of Moon Lake Road,
where stories are woven and retold.
about longtime gangster Al Capone.
Now I stayed in a house
right across the street,
and believe me I did not see,
but I heard a ghost talk to me.
See now legend has it,
that Al put people in this lake,
Now ghosts are around make no mistake.
I was in this house with Uncle Lenny,
he wasn't scared for he couldn't
hear a dropp of a penny.
He told me the ghosts leave him alone,
for they know he's handicapped
unlike his nephew Tone.
Yes, Tony said he heard them too,
I don't know if he's lying
or what he says is true.
All I know I don't want to go back,
you can laugh at me and call me a quack.
I'ld rather see a ghost
then have one move my stuff,
that is scary and this I can't rebuff,
It's not like eating at Denny's
and having a lunch,
I believe in ghosts with an
absolute hunch.
Written by Suzae Chevalier on Feb.21,2011
poem by Suzae Chevalier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ghosts By Moon Lake
There’s a lake off of Moon Lake Road,
where stories are woven and retold.
about longtime gangster Al Capone.
Now I stayed in a house
right across the street,
and believe me I did not see,
but I heard a ghost talk to me.
See now legend has it,
that Al put people in this lake,
Now ghosts are around make no mistake.
I was in this house with Uncle Lenny,
he wasn’t scared for he couldn’t
hear a dropp of a penny.
He told me the ghosts leave him alone,
for they know he's handicapped
unlike his nephew Tone.
Yes, Tony said he heard them too,
I don’t know if he’s lying
or what he says is true.
All I know I don’t want to go back,
you can laugh at me and call me a quack.
I’ld rather see a ghost
then have one move my stuff,
that is scary and this I can't rebuff,
It’s not like eating at Denny’s
and having a lunch,
I believe in ghosts with an
absolute hunch.
Written by Christina Sunrise Feb.21,2011
poem by Christina Sunrise
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rondel.
The mist is in the town to-night,
And all the streets are dumb and drear;
The passers-by as ghosts appear,
Or things whose souls have taken flight
As they drift by in the weird light,
Each on its shadowy career —
The mist is in the town to-night,
And all the streets are dumb and drear.
A dead town were less sad a sight
With its dead men and women here,
So one might see them passing near
Beyond the death of love's delight!
The mist is in the town to-night,
And all the streets are dumb and drear.
poem by Robert Crawford
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Faith II
THROUGH the long night, the deathlong night,
Along the dark and haunted way,
I knew your hidden face was bright--
More bright than any day.
And when the faint, insistent moan
Rose from some weed-grown wayside grave,
I said, 'I do not walk alone;
'Tis easy to be brave.
I never turned to speak with you,
For all the way was dark and long,
But all the shadows' menace through
Your silence was my song.
I never sought to take your hand,
For all the way was long and rough;
I taught my soul to understand
That love was strength enough.
Then, suddenly, the ghosts drew near,
A ghastly, gliding, tomb-white band;
I called aloud for you to hear,
My hand besought your hand.
No voice, no touch--the thin ghosts glide
Where in my dream I dreamed you were--
Night, night, you are not by my side,
You never have been there!
poem by Edith Nesbit
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How Wide The Dawn
How wide the Dawn
Is smiling!
How silent-new
The air is breathing!
How raw the sea
Without a wave
Is looking!
And in the night –
Id est last night
How strange
The owl chanteth!
How far, how far
Its cry did seem
And yet
It was so near!
How thrilled the tree
Below my lighted window
And in the night
The solemn night
The owl was still a-calling
To spirits wild
Perhaps
Or long white ghosts
Perhaps!
And in the eyes
Of the pale moon
The lake nearby glistened:
How white
How thin
The rays that fall
In midst of the dark waters!
And from the lake
A soundless sound
Is coming:
For in the waves
And from the waves
There comes a little gurgling
And in the night
In the long night
The owl is speaking, speaking!
Ah! this night – in the night
The people in the house
Are all a-sleeping
I – only I
The vigil, the night-vigil
Am making:
And I
And only I
Will my reward receive
For I
And only I
Am seeing
For I
And only I
Am hearing
And I
And only I
Am feeling!
How strange how sere
The feeling!
How from the clear night
The mist of sudden riseth!
And from afar
Past ten long fields
The cemetery is burning
With the pale light
Of the swift moon
That fall
On every wall
This long, long night!
It seems
It seems
That the cemetery’s open:
And yet
And yet
There is no noise
No sound
But from the yews
A soundless sound
Is coming:
A restless sound
Like souls
This night all-aching
And restless
Restless
At some thing
I am not hearing!
Ha! We on earth
Make prisons
And lodge
Bodies – human bodies in them:
And we on earth
Make cemeteries
And lodge
Bodies – human bodies in them
And the long night
Under the light
Of heaven
How waning-blue
And tight
Is coming!
So:
At long last
We fall into a prison
If not the one
In fine to the other
And at the last
And in the last
We enter our last prison:
And in the night
The long and lonely night
The cemetery is shining!
poem by Emmanuel George Cefai
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ghostly House
You need language of ghosts
To communicate with spirits that impose on us.
You crave for the very food our ghosts need.
Come with the religion of yours to distract them.
For it pray and they will go away, for all eternity!
Your House is Haunted. Be so wary!
Even call the police, and they will never enter your home.
Your House is Haunted. It needs some policy to rid it of evil and despair.
You House needs some care. It requires the life to adjust. You must.
If ghosts are about then leave the house and complain.
Nobody listens except the Priest, and he is not around.
Go to the doctor, and feel doom in abundance. The ghosts do not win.
Good Luck!
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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