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Spooky kids...Familiar faces

I see ghosts…
Ghosts in my grand
And grandkid's eyes

I see traces
of my mother and father's faces
In their tears when they cry

There's a ghost
Of Grandmaw's humour
That peeks out when they smile

There's a spooky look
Of Grandpaw's wrinkled face
That pops out once in a while

There's that open grin
That cute cleft chin
That all their uncles had

There's that impish look
My brother took when he knew
He was being bad

There's a haunting hint
A familiar glint in those young eyes
Of faces that I can see

And the scariest part
That breaks my heart
Is that sometimes… they look like me

poem by David Whalen
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The Old Familiar Faces

I HAVE had playmates, I have had companions,
In my days of childhood, in my joyful school-days--
All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.

I have been laughing, I have been carousing,
Drinking late, sitting late, with my bosom cronies--
All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.

I loved a Love once, fairest among women:
Closed are her doors on me, I must not see her--
All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.

I have a friend, a kinder friend has no man:
Like an ingrate, I left my friend abruptly;
Left him, to muse on the old familiar faces.

Ghost-like I paced round the haunts of my childhood,
Earth seem'd a desert I was bound to traverse,
Seeking to find the old familiar faces.

Friend of my bosom, thou more than a brother,
Why wert not thou born in my father's dwelling?
So might we talk of the old familiar faces--

How some they have died, and some they have left me,
And some are taken from me; all are departed--
All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.

poem by Charles Lamb
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Faces

I cant read faces but i can read yours;
I know it when youre sad or happy,
not through your smile but through your eyes;
and the lines of your forehead,
and the lines of your cheeks...
they tell your secrets and then mystery unfolds.
The beauty of your chin...and the lines of your lips,
they tell me of something that hasn't been told.
Sometimes you laugh, but you're empty inside...
sometimes you frown, but your heart glowed with pride.
Sometimes serious, but your face
has something to hide.
I know coz your eyes tell me everything,
everything within your soul.
You have so many faces...
and i wonder if the world knows.
I wonder if they can read them,
or see what you conceal..
I wonder if they can see your mysteries...
secrets to steal.
And i wonder if they can look into
your eyes like open doors.
I know i cant read faces...
but i can read yours.

poem by Jessel Jane Tevar
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Spooky

(middlebrooke / shapiro)
In the cool of the evening
When everything is getting kind of groovy
You call me up and ask me
Would I like to go with you and see a movie?
First I say no, Ive got some plans for tonight
And then I stop and say all right
Love is kind of crazy with a spooky little boy like you
You always keep me guessing
I never seem to know what you are thinking
And if a girl looks at you
Its for sure your little eye will be a-winking
I get confused, I never know where I stand
And then you smile and hold my hand
Love is kind of crazy with a spooky little boy like you
Spooky
If you decide some day to stop this little game that you are a-playing
Im gonna tell you all the things my hearts been a-dying to be saying
Just like a ghost youve been a-haunting my dreams
But now I know youre not what you seem
Love is kind of crazy with a spooky little boy like you
Spooky
Ahh, ahh, spooky, mmm, spooky, ahh, ahh, ahh, spooky, ooh, spooky
Ahh, aah, aah, spooky

song performed by by Dusty Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Ghosts

The ghosts of not repentant souls
Wander in the quiet woods night.
Only chilling cries of the owls
Cause the lightest fright.

Flying Dutchman frightens seamen,
Its sight is a portent of doom.
It was told by John Leyden
Sinful souls went to gloom.

Ghosts dwell in the hills.
Climbers know a ghost can kill.
To some they help to cross the river,
But seeing them you would shiver.

Haunting cities, haunting countries…
Are they humans eye illusion?
Are they really verities?
It looks they come to make pollution.

Ghosts are here, ghosts are there!
It seems they are everywhere.

©Larisa Rzhepishevska (Odessa, Ukraine)
The 8th of August,2011

poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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Dead Man's Morrice

There came a crowder to the Mermaid Inn,
One dark May night,
Fiddling a tune that quelled our motley din,
With quaint delight,
It haunts me yet, as old lost airs will do,
A phantom strain:
_Look for me once, lest I should look for you,
And look in vain._

In that old wood, where ghosts of lovers walk,
At fall of day,
Gleaning such fragments of their ancient talk
As poor ghosts may,
From leaves that brushed their faces, wet with dew,
Or tears, or rain,...
_Look for me once, lest I should look for you,
And look in vain._

Have we not seen them--pale forgotten shades
That do return,
Groping for those dim paths, those fragrant glades,
Those nooks of fern,
Only to find that, of the may they knew,
No wraiths remain;
_Yet they still look, as I should look for you,
And look in vain._

They see those happier ghosts that waned away--
Whither, who knows?--
Ghosts that come back with music and the may,
And Spring's first rose,
Lover and lass, to sing the old burden through,
Stave and refrain:
_Look for me once, lest I should look for you,
And look in vain._

So, after death, if in that starless deep,
I lose your eyes,
I'll haunt familiar places. I'll not keep
Tryst in the skies.
I'll haunt the whispering elms that found us true,
The old grass-grown lane.
_Look for me there, lest I should look for you,
And look in vain._

There, as of old, under the dreaming moon,
A phantom throng
Floats through the fern, to a ghostly morrice tune,
A thin sweet song,
Hands link with hands, eyes drown in eyes anew,
Lips meet again....
_Look for me, once, lest I should look for you,
And look in vain._

poem by Alfred Noyes
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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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Fantasy Memory

so many faces
i can remember each even without the picture
so many beautiful faces that i have french
kissed
less words
lesser hellos

there were more goodbyes
those eyes shed tears but mine look the other way
towards more faces
every sunrise every morning light

so many beautiful faces that i can always remember and
soon too
easily forget

there is one though
shown to me this morning as i lay weak
in my sickbed

she says i kissed her once and it was too long ago
she is a sad face looking for me
i try to remember but
i cannot not remember ever
even the single lock of the hairs of said face
even the tears in her eyes
even the lasting smile that she once gave me

i know the reason.

who wants to remember the face that you really love
and yet you simply wasted?

you bury it in the past and you swear
you cannot anymore remember

you are careful because it will be very painful

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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My Son, My Precious One

I had heard of the feelings of a mother for her son
But I never knew what it meant
Until my son, my precious one
As a gift from my God was sent

He was fat and cute, dark hair on his head
The first time they brought him to me
I felt such pride my heart nearly burst
For this was my son, Wesley

So much sheer pleasure he has given to me
This sweet little boy of mine
Time passes so fast and yet, seems so short
From birth the years past are nine

With hair now red and freckles a few
A dimple in his cute little chin
He can melt my heart, fade my temper away
When he gives me his cute little grin

Most times to me he is so sweet
And so rarely temper is seen
When mischief rises ever so high
In those beautiful eyes so green

He is my baby and always will be
And proudly his father’s son
So much love we give to him
Our son, our precious one

I thank God each day for giving to us
This one hundred percent little boy
Into our lives he brings so much
Our son, our most precious one.

poem by Sally Campbell
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You, Your Face and Your Many Faces

you and your face
you and your many faces
i never clarify your other face
because you build a siege
with your many faces
your many faces have a heart of liar
little facet of your tricky mind
you and your many faces
your face not to be someone's follower
your face to be the queen of yourself
you and your face
you don't need to show your inner face
your many faces will play the pace
and no one resist your easily fake face
your face and your many faces
if those two are not good enough
to get me
what will you take to become your face?

poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Lost

Searching in the crowd
For a resemblance
To no avail
No familiar faces

I once loved
A forbidden love
Oceans separated you from me
Virtually all familiar faces gone

I roam the dessert of life
Feeling all alone
Like a blind man searching
For a familiar face
The sound of your voice
The ringing of laughter shared
Of familiar faces
Barren, empty bossom
Swallowed by the dessert of life
All familiar faces
Passed with time...

06.07.2012

poem by Persian Khushi
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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
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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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Glee -- The Ghosts

In life three ghostly friars were we,
And now three friarly ghosts we be.
Around our shadowy table placed,
The spectral bowl before us floats:
With wine that none but ghosts can taste,
We wash our unsubstantial throats.
Three merry ghosts--three merry ghosts--
three merry ghosts are we:
Let the ocean be Port, and we'll think it good sport
To be laid in that Red Sea.

With songs that jovial spectres chaunt,
Our old refectory still we haunt.
The traveller hears our midnight mirth:
"O list!" he cries, "the haunted choir!
"The merriest ghost that walks the earth, "
"Is sure the ghost of a ghostly friar."
Three merry ghosts--three merry ghosts--
three merry ghosts are we:
Let the ocean be Port, and we'll think it good sport
To be laid in that Red Sea.

poem by Thomas Love Peacock
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One Face

One face in a crowd is hard to find.
One face in that crowd is on my mind.
How can I find the face of one,
The face that to me is like the sun?

Shiny and bright with a radiant glow,
The face that picks me up when I'm low,
Eyes that light up wherever they are
Just like the splendor of an evening star,

Lips that break into the sweetest smile
That lingers for me for the longest while,
Hair that surrounds that face like a frame
That always sets my heart aflame.

I search all the faces but cannot see
The one that means the world to me.
I'm lost. I'm wretched. This should not be.
There are too many faces. I'm lost at sea.

One last glance and to my surprise
There's your face, your smile, your eyes.
The crowd's still there but not for me.
For the face I love is all I see.

poem by Edwina Reizer
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Twin Faces

I gazed into her lovely eyes
and saw miniature faces
of myself looking back at me.
Do these blue orbs see what I see?
Is what I see what she perceives
through these tinted panes to her soul?
Can she see Mr. Hyde lurking
behind the comely mask I wear?
A smile on her innocent face
appeared, then she gently kissed me
caressing my cheeks with both hands.
I knew then it did not matter
what I saw in those twin faces
hidden now behind her closed eyes.

poem by Albert Ahearn
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Pavements

there are traces on the pavements
there are eyes on the pavements
sadly looking at us
pavements are like history on strata and decaying leaves
there are booksful of words on the pavements
on the pavements
there are faces
ı haVE BEEN ACquı Nted with
looking at me lonely and sadly
the pavements look as they have come from above
and constructed there
on the pavements
there are many memories carved
there are lonely traces on the pavements
there are eyes on the pavements
we tread on
ı have acquinted with... faces look at me sadly and lonely
the pavements must have drunk from various waters
from many sourCes and fountains
who guesses who passed and gone on this pavements?
there are traces on the pavements
there are faces on the pavements
looking at me..lonely and sadly
when ı walk
and stroll on them lonely and slowly and slowly
Ali TÜRK KESKİ N Translatı on Metin SAHİ N

poem by Metin Sahin
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Half my father

Half my father
Half my mother
My mother white as a ghost
My father black as coal
In my face the mixture glows
My skin is white
Still I am a black man
By the make of my nose
My hair is curly
My eyes are gray
Within me both if them lives
My mother’s race
Did enslave
My father’s race
Was never paid.
Still within I bare the two
Am O the new American?
My father is white
My mother is Korean
They met during the war
And I was born
Their only son
By my tone of skin
And by my eyes
You can tell
That there is a divide
And by my blonde hair
It is there for you to spy
Am I the new American?
My mother is German
My father polish
I learned three languages
As I grew older
Both of them
Did love me well
And of each country did tell
That I could draw
From each well
Am I the new American?
My father is Chinese
My mother Spanish
Both crossed over the Rio Grand
I am in the make of my father
But I have my mother’s brown skin
Am I the new American?

poem by David E. Patton
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Adonais

He breaks the spell
Still young and words from
Out this dream of life and leaves us
Sleeping stone rack
Lying consumed by
Phantom pains
And displays of greed
He slips from out this shadowland
And pain where heads grow soft and grey
And age destroys all hope
And spirits crush the men
And hide away
The wordless watch the soft sky smile
And breathless hear the low wind sigh
What death will join
No more let love divide
"dream yourself awake" he calls
"an eternity awaits us all
Open your eyes and be with me
Be with me..."
He breaks the chains
So young disspells
The hateful shades
Of treacherous time
Leaves us sleeping
Tortured mute
Devoured by ghosts
And dreams of life
Slips through ties
And dust to be the world
We dream he lives apart
But everything we feel
The young and beautiful
And brave of heart
The wordless watch the soft sky smile
And breathless hear the low wind sigh
What death will join
No more let love divide
"dream yourself awake" he calls
"an eternity awaits us all
Open your eyes and be with me
Be with me..."
"dream yourself awake" he calls
"an eternity awaits us all
Open your eyes and be with me
Be with me forever...

song performed by by Cure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Song For Dad

Lately Ive been noticing
I say the same things he used to say
And I even find myself acting the very same way
I tap my fingers on the table
To the rhythm in my soul
And I jingle the car keys
When Im ready to go
When I look in the mirror
Hes right there in my eyes
Starin back at me and I realize
The older I get
The more I can see
How much he loved my mother and my brother and me
And he did the best that he could
And I only hope when I have my own family
That everyday I see
A little more of my father in me
There were times I thought he was bein
Just a little bit hard on me
But now I understand he was makin me
Become the man he knew that I could be
In everything he ever did
He always did with love
And Im proud today to say Im his son
When somebody says I hope I get to meet your dad
I just smile and say you already have
The older I get
The more I can see
How much he loved my mother and my brother and me
And he did the best that he could
And I only hope when I have my own family
That everyday I see
A little more of my father in me
Hes in my eyes
My heart, my soul
My hands, my pride
And when I feel alone
And I think I cant go on
I hear him sayin son youll be alright
Everythings gonna be alright
Yes it is
The older I get
The more I can see
That he loved my mother and my brother and me
And he did the best that he could
And I only hope when I have my own family
That everyday I see
Oh I hope I see
I hope everyday I see
A little more of my father in me
A little more of my father in me
I hope everyday I see in me
In me
In me
I hope everyday I see
A little more of my father in me

song performed by by Keith Urban
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Love Given Is Enough To Last Lifetimes

love gone is smoke lost in the wind
she is gone now the one who wiped
your tears away from childhood faces
she saw the smiles on your face the tears
she saw the laughter on your face the pain

she heard the ripple of your voice the sobs
she saw the beauty in your eyes the fears
she kissed every tear from young checks
wiped every tear that dared form in your eyes
she was your mother her love is ever with us

poem by Terence George Craddock
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