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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
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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Find Me A Family
I take my life one day at a time
So many dreams that come and go in my mind
Is this a new beginning a time when fools are winning
Everybody needs something to believe
The world we see is changing so fast
No guarantees how long does a feeling last
One look can tell a story
My future's waiting for me
Let it be with you make it all come true
And find me a family
Somewhere to go where I can belong
That special place that I can call my home
You know I'm gonna find it someday
Please let me stay
Find me a family
I gotta know that somebody cares
I need a chance I got so much to give
If you can find me a family
Find me a family
I live and hope and whisper a prayer
when I come home that you will be waiting there
It's just a breath away and all you have to say
is stay with me tonight
You know it sounds so right
chorus
Find me a family x6
song performed by by Hollies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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ghosts of memory (Lyrics)
A place of rest I've tried to find
Aching in my heart, chaos in my mind
This place is poison to my soul
Can't take much more, I'm losing control
Faded perfume in a room
Once a sanctuary, now simply a tomb
And it is in this tomb I lie
Dried flowers pressed in pages of faded romance died
And I'm haunted by ghosts of memory
Taunted by promises
What could have been?
Haunted, by ghosts of memory
Taunted by promises
Please set me free
Roses blooming in hellfire
Prisoner of the past and my heart's dark desire
Phantom love that still holds on
My dreams do not remember, that you are gone
Just like the melting snow in spring
It couldn't last, that's true of many things
In the emerald sea I'll lie
Dried flowers pressed in pages of faded romance died
poem by Satan's Sibling
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Going Home
Writers: leo sayer & alan tarney
No crying no sighing Im going home
Im leaving no grieving Im going home
And theres no one here
And theres nothing here gonna turn me around
Been a lifetime here full of doubt and fear
Been the talk of the town
Im going home
Im going home
Im going home
Im smiling Im flying Im going home
No sad face no suitcase Im going home
And Im thinking back
To the girl I left is she waiting for me
When I left my heart wasnt in my hands
Is she waiting home for me
When I get home
When I get home
When I get home
I know my friends will be there
And they will welcome me
Ill wash away these memories
From these dirty streets
When I get home
When I get home
When I get home
When I get home
Im dreaming Im scheming Im going home
Im racing times wasting Im going home
And I see my home and I see my dream
I see everyone there
Going right back down to when I was free
And I hadnt a care
Im going home
Im going home
Im going home
And in my babys eyes
I see joy and pride
Uncover all those lies
That I left behind
When I get home
And I see my home and I see my dream
I see everyone there
Going right back down to when I was free
And I hadnt a care
When I get home
song performed by by Leo Sayer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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William House and Family
Come all kind friends, both far and near,
Come listen to me and you shall hear --
It's of a family and their fate,
All about them I will relate.
They once did live at Edgerton,
They once did live at Muskegon,
From there they went to Chicago,
Which proved their fatal overthrow.
It was William House's family,
As fine a family as you see --
His family was eleven in all,
I do not think it was very small.
Two children died some years ago,
Before they went to Chicago,
Five children there he had with him,
When death his home there enters in.
The small-pox then was raging there,
And Oh! it would not their house spare,
For all but one was sick of them,
A dreadful house it must have been.
The eldest girl was married then,
The eldest boy was in Michigan,
The second boy he was at home,
And took care of them all alone.
His father and his mother dear,
And dear sister, too, I hear,
Were very sick and in his care,
And no kind friends to help him there:
Two little brothers, and a baby too,
Made six in all -- what could he do,
He had to take care of them all,
The baby, too, was very small.
As he would go to his father's bed,
And try to soothe his aching head,
"My son, I pray you leave me, do
Go take care of poor mother, too."
"Your mother and sister need your care,
And your little infant brother there;
Oh! Charlie, Charlie, take care of them,
My son, do all for them you can."
It seemed as though he did not know
That his poor soul so soon must go,
And leave his little ones he loved,
To go to that bright world above.
But God he called his soul away,
It had to leave, it could not stay --
He never more on earth will be,
His soul is from sin and sorrow free.
Charles helped the sexton, I am told,
To lay his form in the coffin cold --
How sad, how sad, poor soul was he,
When last his father's form did see.
Minnie May House she had to go,
And leave her friends that loved her so --
She was a girl in her teens,
A lovely flower as e'er was seen.
Minnie and her mother lay on one bed,
And when Charles said, "our Minnie is dead,"
His mother then she did grow wild,
And early after knew her child.
They buried Minnie by her father's side,
And left them there where they had died --
Charles took his mother and brothers then
And brought them back to Michigan.
For the mother and the baby too,
Kind friends did all that they could do,
But those poor souls they could not save,
For now they're sleeping in their grave.
Oh! what a noble son was he,
His age was then only sixteen --
Charles House's name I have told before
God bless his soul forever more.
poem by Julia A Moore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Freedom Isn't Free...
Who says our freedom is free? Not Me.
True, We are freer than most, but not enough,
that we should boast.
Before you say Freedom is free, stop and count the cost
of all the lives lost,
Freedom isn't free, when there's killing in our streets.
Freedom isn't free, to the Soldier that is waiting to be shipped over seas.
Freedom isn't free, with the pain, he or she is feeling inside, with
the thought of having to leave they're loved one's behind, and
it hurts so bad that it brings them to their knees.
Freedom isn't free, when your living in uncertainty.
Freedom isn't free, having to say good-bye, to a loved one that
is going off to war.Freedom isn't free, to a soldier who is on the front lines, knowing he or she, could die anytime.
Freedom isn't free when your lying in bed,
waiting and wondering, if you'll ever see your loved ones alive again.
Freedom isn't free, when a little child crys in the night,
for his or her Mommy and Daddy, and they're not there to hold them close, and comfort them, and to ease their fears, and wipe away they're tears. And all those in all the other wars, and the lives that are still being lost at this very moment.
Do you still say Freedom is free?
Freedom isn't free, when a Soldier is wounded in battle.
When news reaches, Family and friends at home,
And their told that their Soldier is wounded far beyond repair,
The loss and pain felt can not compare.
Freedom isn't free, with all those many Soldiers that wished they
had died because of all the pain in their broken up bodies.
Freedom isn't free, when your lying in bed, and you hear that dreaded
tap on your door.And you pray to God that you were only having a bad dream.
Freedom isn't free when you open the door and listen to the
bugle play, and you feel a sudden chill.
Everything goes still.
Freedom isn't free, when there is a Flag being draped
over a coffin, of a Brother, Sister, or a friend.
Freedom isn't free, when you think of all the children,
of the mothers and the wives, of Fathers, sons and husbands, whose
lives have been interrupted.
Freedom isn't free, when you think about the graveyard at the
bottom of the sea, of the unmarked graves in Arlington.
Who say's Freedom is Free? Not Me!
Written 7/23/008
BY Nora Eason
poem by Nora Eason
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Born As Ghosts
The hills find peace
Locked armed guard posts
Safe from the screams
Of the children born as ghosts
Gates guns and alarms
Shape the calm of the dawn
Peering down into the basin
Where death lives on
Where young run foaming at the mouth with hate
Where burning batons beat the freezing who shake
Under the toxic sunsets they dine and toast
Their walls deny the terror faced by the children
Born as ghosts
Born as ghosts
One book and forty ghosts
Stuffed in a room
The school as a tomb
Where home is a wasteland
Taste the razor wire
And thought is locked in the womb
The tales that shocks the lives off the screen
Born as ghosts
song performed by by Rage Against The Machine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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This crazy country
I’m in this crazy country
If I could leave I would go tomorrow never to return
Oh Allah how can I go
From this crazy country
When I do what I do for the sake of Allah
My 1st Daughter
The strong & the brave
She was physically & emotionally abused
Some years ago
Taken from me brought up by another
No one knows why
But
Daughter no.2
She was allowed to stay
To be abused
Physically, emotionally & attempted sexually
With emotional problems
No fear of danger
Her father still free
To abuse another
1son & twin daughters the pain still goes on
He is still free
As free as can be
Daughter no 2 went to a special school
She learned to survive
Not wanting to become a woman
She was ready to come home
Her room was made nice
The sisters helped to decorate
Ready for her return
You made new friends
In your white community
They told you that you are British
Me myself I’m not proud to be half British
I’m ashamed you see at what they do to my family
I am a Muslim from Islam
That’s what maters to me
What happened to what I taught you to believe.
You come from a multi-cultural family
You decided to stay
Not come home how can this be
My child needs her mom
I’m told the law gives her the right to choose in this country
So you god fearing mom’s beware when your child goes to school
In this crazy country
As children suffer & even die
There parents free
Free as can be
Then there is my son child no.3
Taken from me
He is with his father you see
In this crazy country
My son runs to be with me
Now he needs therapy
Just for wanting me
I am a God fearing mom doing all I can for my family
In this crazy country
As I see with my eyes
Hear with my ears
What you do to my Brothers & Sisters in this country
I want to leave & go some place where I can be free
As free as can be
To give my all to people who need me
Oh Allah how can I leave this crazy country
When I do what I do for the sake of Allah
To be there for my family
People try to bring me down for I’m a God fearing mom
Before I go
Leave this crazy country
Remember this
You might be free as free as can be
In this crazy country
But when judgment day comes
Who will be free
As free as can be
Will it be you
Or will it be me?
poem by mariam khan Farah Abdulahi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Youll Find Me
Up and off to work again, going through the motions
I bet she tried to warn me and I didnt even notice
til I got home and found her gone
Left with just a letter
Folded with a key on top
Sitting on the dresser
I opened it
It simply read
Chorus
Look and you will find me
I wont be that far
Ill be right here waiting for you with open arms
I dont want to live without you
But I cant go on like this
Torn between the man I love and the one Im living with
Its a conflict of emotion
To my heart I must be true
I know that I need you
But you have to need me too
So if you get home and miss me in your life
Youll find me
I called her family asked everyone who knows her
Telling them in detail all the things I should have told her
How much she really means to me and how much Im regretting
But so far no ones heard from her and all that I am left with
Is how I let her go
And the letter she wrotesaying youll find me
Bridge
I spent the next eight hours wondering where on earth you were
It was getting late, I was getting tired and growing more concerned
When all at once it hit me, that piano bar back home
Where I asked you to marry me
And there you were alone
2nd chorus
I knew I would find you
And how it warmed my heart
To see you right there waiting for me with open arms
Said I dont know where Im going, but I cant go on like this
The thought of life without you is something I just cant live with
Its a conflict of emotion
To my heart I must be true
You told me that you need me
Well, girl I need you too
So if you come home and want me in your life
Youll find me
Youll find me
Youll find me
song performed by by Diamond Rio
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Spirits?
Though I've never seen one exactly
I've encountered some evil presence
The very sense of it overwhelms me
But with God, Fear lurks in absence.
Spirits of dead are mere wanderers
Some are evil and utterly vicious
Some are more harmful than the others
And some possess humans for their use.
The spirits who protect us are angels
And the spirits who harm us are vile
Some in realms of government control
And some enthroned in fake piety's style.
Spirits of the dead they call 'ghosts'
They seem to avoid me and hide
They're the ones I would like to ask most
What they felt at the moment they died.
For you see, I am quite prepared
To meet that old man with the sickle
For Death is the one Jesus dared
Over which He proved He was able.
That Jesus Who now lives in me
Has power over all of these spirits
At the mention on His Name they flee
For they know there's just One Holy Spirit.
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Jump Up Behind Me
Notes:
Jt on sony.com: lilly was not at all sure we could just set ol dan free like that. I told her dan was a huge invisible rat with magical powers. that seems to have shut her up.
This land is a lovely green
It reminds me of my own home
Such children Ive seldom seen
Even in my own home
The sky so bright and clean
Just like my home
Kind people as have ever been
Wont you take me back to my own home
Chorus:
Jump up behind me my love
Jump up behind me
Old dan can bear us both
Jump up behind me
We follow this road til we reach the sea
Jump up behind me
Well catch the tide and set dan free
Jump up behind me
Ive been in this world awhile
And Ive seen a lot of country
Many days and many miles
All various and sundry
Ive had my way and Ive had my fun
And Ive had my chance to run free
Burning hot beneath the sun
Freezing cold and wintry
Repeat chorus
I know now
Only one thing matters in these days
One thing, true love
Love and love alone
True love
I came out of a dream last night
Thought I was back in my old home
Mom and dad were both still alive
And the babies not yet born, no
Felt like a festival
Felt like a christmas morning
Felt the darkness fall away
Even as the world was turning
song performed by by James Taylor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Family tradition.
I feel a hand touching my hair but when I look there’s no one there.
And then I settle down to rest again I felt my hair caressed.
I’ve no idea what it might be. It seems to mean no harm to me.
I’m wide awake I m not dreaming. The gentle moonlight softly beaming
through the window of my room, firmly dispels the twilight gloom Although there’s nothing I can see, some thing is caressing me.
It feels somehow familiar and I recall my Grandmama
Who used to sit beside my bed and very gently stroke my head.
when I was just a little lad. A memory both sweet and sad.
I have returned to my old home back to my roots no more to roam.
Perhaps her spirit lingers here and that is why I feel no fear.
I felt this old house calling me insistently and constantly.
Which finally decided me that this where I ought to be.
It has been in my family for two and one half centuries.
I think that very probably my eldest son will follow me.
Just as I followed my own Dad. If he did not it would be sad.
We are an ancient family part of the local history.
They say there is a prophecy and I believe there may well be.
Which says we must come home to die. That it is true I can’t deny.
Nor can I guarantee its true I leave that question up to you.
Monday,17 May 2010
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Canto I — The Trystyng
One winter night, at half-past nine,
Cold, tired, and cross, and muddy,
I had come home, too late to dine,
And supper, with cigars and wine,
Was waiting in the study.
There was a strangeness in the room,
And Something white and wavy
Was standing near me in the gloom —
I took it for the carpet-broom
Left by that careless slavey.
But presently the Thing began
To shiver and to sneeze:
On which I said "Come, come, my man!
That's a most inconsiderate plan.
Less noise there, if you please!"
"I've caught a cold," the Thing replies,
"Out there upon the landing."
I turned to look in some surprise,
And there, before my very eyes,
A little Ghost was standing!
He trembled when he caught my eye,
And got behind a chair.
"How came you here," I said, "and why?
I never saw a thing so shy.
Come out! Don't shiver there!"
He said "I'd gladly tell you how,
And also tell you why;
But" (here he gave a little bow)
You're in so bad a temper now,
You'd think it all a lie.
"And as to being in a fright,
Allow me to remark
That Ghosts have just as good a right
In every way, to fear the light,
As Men to fear the dark."
"No plea," said I, "can well excuse
Such cowardice in you:
For Ghosts can visit when they choose,
Whereas we Humans ca'n't refuse
To grant the interview."
He said "A flutter of alarm
Is not unnatural, is it?
I really feared you meant some harm:
But, now I see that you are calm,
Let me explain my visit.
"Houses are classed, I beg to state,
According to the number
Of Ghosts that they accommodate:
(The Tenant merely counts as weight,
With Coals and other lumber).
"This is a 'one-ghost' house, and you
When you arrived last summer,
May have remarked a Spectre who
Was doing all that Ghosts can do
To welcome the new-comer.
"In Villas this is always done —
However cheaply rented:
For, though of course there's less of fun
When there is only room for one,
Ghosts have to be contented.
"That Spectre left you on the Third —
Since then you've not been haunted:
For, as he never sent us word,
'Twas quite by accident we heard
That any one was wanted.
"A Spectre has first choice, by right,
In filling up a vacancy;
Then Phantom, Goblin, Elf, and Sprite —
If all these fail them, they invite
The nicest Ghoul that they can see.
"The Spectres said the place was low,
And that you kept bad wine:
So, as a Phantom had to go,
And I was first, of course, you know,
I couldn't well decline."
"No doubt," said I, "they settled who
Was fittest to be sent
Yet still to choose a brat like you,
To haunt a man of forty-two,
Was no great compliment!"
"I'm not so young, Sir," he replied,
"As you might think. The fact is,
In caverns by the water-side,
And other places that I've tried,
I've had a lot of practice:
"But I have never taken yet
A strict domestic part,
And in my flurry I forget
The Five Good Rules of Etiquette
We have to know by heart."
My sympathies were warming fast
Towards the little fellow:
He was so utterly aghast
At having found a Man at last,
And looked so scared and yellow.
"At least," I said, "I'm glad to find
A Ghost is not a dumb thing!
But pray sit down: you'll feel inclined
(If, like myself, you have not dined)
To take a snack of something:
"Though, certainly, you don't appear
A thing to offer food to!
And then I shall be glad to hear —
If you will say them loud and clear —
The Rules that you allude to."
"Thanks! You shall hear them by and by.
This is a piece of luck!"
"What may I offer you?" said I.
"Well, since you are so kind, I'll try
A little bit of duck.
"One slice! And may I ask you for
Another drop of gravy?"
I sat and looked at him in awe,
For certainly I never saw
A thing so white and wavy.
And still he seemed to grow more white,
More vapoury, and wavier —
Seen in the dim and flickering light,
As he proceeded to recite
His "Maxims of Behaviour."
poem by Lewis Carroll from Phantasmagoria
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Did that soul reach you, God
Did that soul reach you, God
It was a soul occupying a human form
Which had all good qualities of a
Good human being
That human form chose not to
Get itself involved in the usually
Worldly living practices
By keeping itself off from the family web
And thus with no real need to make a living
But to live and be totally devoted
That human form was always in your praise
Devoting most of its time
In talking about you
In reading about you
And doing only such things
Related to you and your devotees
It was a human form
Which attempted in all possible ways
To make its audience
Feel the divine’s presence
And to enhance faith
In a long-standing spiritual tradition
It spent days and nights
In deciphering the scripts
And interpreting them
For the use of even less inclined group
There could be occasions
When this human form would have
Stirred feelings of some
With displeasing messages
But people know that
Such expressions are only
Unmasked intensions
But its care and affection
Are sincere and its well wishing
Would you take any far
It takes pride in its known people
Growing well
And marking scales in the society
The soul from such a human form
Departed a week back
All we heard from this human being
Is that
When the soul leaves a body
Which has been real devotee
Is well received by the angels in the heaven
Dressed well and decorated by them
Matching the looks of other heaven dwellers
All look alike including
The heavenly god form
And just reached soul after these face lifts
Is presented before God
Did that soul reach you
Did that soul reach you, God
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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The War
There is a sound of thunder afar,
Storm in the south that darkens the day,
Storm of battle and thunder of war,
Well, if it do not roll our way.
Form! form! Riflemen form!
Ready, be ready to meet the storm!
Riflemen, riflemen, riflemen form!
Be not deaf to the sound that warns!
Be not gull'd by a despot's plea!
Are figs of thistles or grapes of thorns?
How should a despot set men free?
Form! form! Riflemen form!
Ready, be ready to meet the storm!
Riflemen, riflemen, riflemen form!
Let your Reforms for a moment go,
Look to your butts and make good aims.
Better a rotten borough or so,
Than a rotten fleet or a city of flames!
Form! form! Riflemen form!
Ready, be ready to meet the storm!
Riflemen, riflemen, riflemen form!
Form, be ready to do or die!
Form in freedom's name and the Queen's!
True, that we have a faithful ally,
But only the devil knows what he means!
Form! form! Riflemen form!
Ready, be ready to meet the storm!
Riflemen, riflemen, riflemen form!
poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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What Is Family?
A family is love
That puts itself above
Everything else in this world.
A family is trust
That's fair and just
In its treatment of each other.
A family is pride
And will never hide
Its feelings for one another.
A family is dear
And won't disappear
When things are getting tough.
A family is hope
That learns to cope
With all that comes their way.
A family is sound
With their feet on the ground
On every brand new day.
A family is kind
And will always find
The time to be together.
A family is wise
And treasures its ties
For always and forever.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Family
When its family, you forgive them for they know not what they do
When its family, you accept them, cause you have no choice but to
When its family, theyre a mirror of the worst and best in you
And they always put you to the test
And you always try to do your best
And just pray for God to do the rest, when its family
Some are preachers, some are gay
Some are addicts, drunks and strays
But not a one is turned away, when its family
Some are lucky, others aint
Some are fighters, others faint
Winners, losers, sinners, saints, its all family
And when its family you trust them and your hearts an open door
When its family, you tolerate what youd kill others for
When its family, you love and hate and take, then give some more
Somehow you justify mistakes, try to find some better way
To solve the problems day to day, in the family
You take the trouble as it comes and love them more than anyone
Good or bad or indifferent, its still family
You choose your lovers, you pick your friends
Not the family that youre in, nah
Theyll be with you til the end, cause its family
And when its family, you forgive them for they know not what they do
When its family, theyre a mirror of the worst and best in you
When its family, when its family
Let me be all that I should be to the family
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Phantasmagoria Canto I (The Trystyng )
ONE winter night, at half-past nine,
Cold, tired, and cross, and muddy,
I had come home, too late to dine,
And supper, with cigars and wine,
Was waiting in the study.
There was a strangeness in the room,
And Something white and wavy
Was standing near me in the gloom -
I took it for the carpet-broom
Left by that careless slavey.
But presently the Thing began
To shiver and to sneeze:
On which I said "Come, come, my man!
That's a most inconsiderate plan.
Less noise there, if you please!"
"I've caught a cold," the Thing replies,
"Out there upon the landing."
I turned to look in some surprise,
And there, before my very eyes,
A little Ghost was standing!
He trembled when he caught my eye,
And got behind a chair.
"How came you here," I said, "and why?
I never saw a thing so shy.
Come out! Don't shiver there!"
He said "I'd gladly tell you how,
And also tell you why;
But" (here he gave a little bow)
"You're in so bad a temper now,
You'd think it all a lie.
"And as to being in a fright,
Allow me to remark
That Ghosts have just as good a right
In every way, to fear the light,
As Men to fear the dark."
"No plea," said I, "can well excuse
Such cowardice in you:
For Ghosts can visit when they choose,
Whereas we Humans ca'n't refuse
To grant the interview."
He said "A flutter of alarm
Is not unnatural, is it?
I really feared you meant some harm:
But, now I see that you are calm,
Let me explain my visit.
"Houses are classed, I beg to state,
According to the number
Of Ghosts that they accommodate:
(The Tenant merely counts as WEIGHT,
With Coals and other lumber).
"This is a 'one-ghost' house, and you
When you arrived last summer,
May have remarked a Spectre who
Was doing all that Ghosts can do
To welcome the new-comer.
"In Villas this is always done -
However cheaply rented:
For, though of course there's less of fun
When there is only room for one,
Ghosts have to be contented.
"That Spectre left you on the Third -
Since then you've not been haunted:
For, as he never sent us word,
'Twas quite by accident we heard
That any one was wanted.
"A Spectre has first choice, by right,
In filling up a vacancy;
Then Phantom, Goblin, Elf, and Sprite -
If all these fail them, they invite
The nicest Ghoul that they can see.
"The Spectres said the place was low,
And that you kept bad wine:
So, as a Phantom had to go,
And I was first, of course, you know,
I couldn't well decline."
"No doubt," said I, "they settled who
Was fittest to be sent
Yet still to choose a brat like you,
To haunt a man of forty-two,
Was no great compliment!"
"I'm not so young, Sir," he replied,
"As you might think. The fact is,
In caverns by the water-side,
And other places that I've tried,
I've had a lot of practice:
"But I have never taken yet
A strict domestic part,
And in my flurry I forget
The Five Good Rules of Etiquette
We have to know by heart."
My sympathies were warming fast
Towards the little fellow:
He was so utterly aghast
At having found a Man at last,
And looked so scared and yellow.
"At least," I said, "I'm glad to find
A Ghost is not a DUMB thing!
But pray sit down: you'll feel inclined
(If, like myself, you have not dined)
To take a snack of something:
"Though, certainly, you don't appear
A thing to offer FOOD to!
And then I shall be glad to hear -
If you will say them loud and clear -
The Rules that you allude to."
"Thanks! You shall hear them by and by.
This IS a piece of luck!"
"What may I offer you?" said I.
"Well, since you ARE so kind, I'll try
A little bit of duck.
"ONE slice! And may I ask you for
Another drop of gravy?"
I sat and looked at him in awe,
For certainly I never saw
A thing so white and wavy.
And still he seemed to grow more white,
More vapoury, and wavier -
Seen in the dim and flickering light,
As he proceeded to recite
His "Maxims of Behaviour."
poem by Lewis Carroll
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The War of the Ghosts
Three Ghosts that haunt me have I,
Three Ghosts in my soul that fight,
Three grandsire Ghosts in my soul,
That haunt me by day and by night.
The first was a dark mountaineer,
Who hunted with arrow and knife,
To whom the turf was a bed,
And the wind of the moorland was life.
And the next was a mariner rude,
Whose home and whose grave was the sea,
For whom the land was a prison
And only the ocean was free.
And the last was a shrunken recluse,
Who lived with the dust and the gloom
And wrote of the Saints and of Him
Who went for us to His doom.
And all through the days and years
These ancient Ghosts contend,
And my soul is a battle-field
Of passions that pierce and rend.
And whenever a sunbeam alights
All gleaming and fresh on my page,
I am wild for the hills and the bush,
I am torn with the hunter's rage.
I am sick of the smell of a book,
I am off with the dogs or a gun,
Or I gallop my fifty miles
Before the set of the sun.
And yet from some loftier peak
When I look on the sea from afar,
I feel like one in a grave;
And I long for a ship full-sailed
And an ocean wide on the lee
I choke on the solid land
For the lift of the undulant sea.
Yet ever the battle goes on,
And ever there rises a day
When the Ghosts of the wave and the wood
To the Ghost of the cell give way.
Then the land is a wilderness drear,
And dismal and vast is the sea,
But cloistered in peace with my books
My soul is uplifted and free.
Three Ghosts that haunt me have I,
Three Ghosts in my soul that fight,
Three grandsire Ghosts in my soul,
That haunt me by day and by night.
Yet ofttimes there joins in the fray
One gross and sluggish of limb,
No spectre is he but a man,
Whose strokes are heavy and grim.
For a man is not nothing, I swear,
Nor a braggart am I when I boast
That though he be slothful or sleep,
A man is more than a ghost.
And my soul is my own, I aver,
The master and lord of it I,
And whenever I will to bestir,
All ghostly usurpers shall fly.
Then I what is mine will assume,
Nor diverge from the path of my will.
Though the Ghosts I have routed still call
From the desk and the sea and the hill.
poem by William Gay
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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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