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Ghostly Man

Ghostly man
Look at my Life
I can see thru and thru
Ghostly man
You're alot like me...
And you...

Pale grey heart
full of wisps of love
Oh, Ghostly man
What reason do...
Pale in sight
Hollow, Hollow, vision
Do you haunt my way
Ghostly man

poem by Midnights Voice
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Haunted Hollow

The hollow is a group of trees,
whose branches intertwine to form an arch.
A column of noble trees,
standing tall and erect.
However the hallow is haunted,
by ghostly lovers who died there,
on one stormy night,
walking arm in arm
underneath a cloudy moonlight.
Now when the north wind blows,
and clouds drift across the moon.
You can see the ghostly lovers
in the shadows of the hallow,
where they walk for eternity,
linked arm in arm.
Their love has lived beyond the grave,
for everyone to see.
Two ghostly lovers
simply called you and me.

poem by David Harris
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A Requiem

Neobule, being tired,
Far too tired to laugh or weep,
From the hours, rosy and gray,
Hid her golden face away.
Neobule, fain of sleep,
Slept at last as she desired!

Neobule! is it well,
That you haunt the hollow lands,
Where the poor, dead people stray,
Ghostly, pitiful and gray,
Plucking, with their spectral hands,
Scentless blooms of asphodel?

Neobule, tired to death
Of the flowers that I threw
On her flower-like, fair feet,
Sighed for blossoms not so sweet,
Lunar roses pale and blue,
Lilies of the world beneath.

Neobule! ah, too tired
Of the dreams and days above!
Where the poor, dead people stray,
Ghostly, pitiful and gray,
Out of life and out of love,
Sleeps the sleep which she desired.

poem by Ernest Christopher Dowson
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The Bunyip

Oh, came you up by the place of dread
(west red, and the moon low down)
where no winds blow and the birds have fled
and the gum stands dead and its arms gleam white,
and the tribe sneak by with a stealthy tread
in the ghostly light,in the ghostly light.
Brave Worraland went one grey nightfall
(A woi! woi!) where the grim rocks frown;
he came no more to the camps at all
(Skies dark, and the moon low down).

As we came up by the gully side
(Deep dusk, and the moon low down)
A Dingo whined and a Curlew cried
and the reeds replied as in hushed affright
where tall brae Worraland screamed and died
in the ghostly light, in the ghostly light.
For the Thing lurks there in the haunted place
(A woi! woi!) where the pool is brown,
where lost ones vanish and leave no trace
(Day dead, and the moon low down).

Of, go not by near the bunyip's lair
(Stars dim, and the moon low down)
or tip-toe past and beware, beware
the dark pool snare and be set for flight,
for things of terror have happened there
in the ghostly light, in the ghostly light
and in the gunyas we crouch and hark
(A woi! woi!) where the dead men drown
The monster's bellow across the dark
(Stars gone, and the moon low down).

poem by James Martin Devaney
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Ghostly Floss

Ghostly Floss

Your form, an evenness of attention
a cause of synchronized emotions
to travel routes of eternal blossoms
to accompany my souls extension.

No solar tide in my ocean travels
red roses blossom in surmised garden
with her glance Atropos unravels
solitude rules in my carried burden.

Ghostly floss, relentless rain mortised
joint symmetry, worlds of grievance
Ghostly floss, where monodies abide
feeling of persecution's distance.

-

poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Apparition Despair

Apparition Despair
By: Adam M. Snow

My ghostly apparition doesth not be seen,
by thy child of my ghostly fiend.
But though the twinkle lights despair me;
my wake be that of a lore of me.

poem by Adam M. Snow
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The Forlorn Heart

Alone in the company of myself
How the walls seem ghostly quiet
Thoughts drift to a romance broken
The girl that never was or could not be
Stay my tongue lest I speak ill of love
The words of a broken heart are fierce
And sharp as any blade ever known
Cutting into the depths of the soul
The silence of the night haunting
And I alone mourn my own heart
What love, what girl I shall not name
For it pains to speak such words
And these walls, empty as they are
Have become my tomb, farewell love
Alone with a broken heart I yield
That which I was never to know
Were I a greater man than I
How would my own company stand
Would I know it alone at all
Would I know these ghostly walls
As I know too well my heart
My loves sad quiet demise
The forlorn heart exists
Where there is only myself and I

poem by Matthew Holloway
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Whispers In The Twilight

Ghostly shadows in the moonlight
Walk ye softly bye and bye.
Only to the watchful soul,
Will they ever catch your eye.
They slip by oh so silently,
On hoofs as soft as silk.
Their size and colours range
From chocolate brown to shades of milk.
Night time is their playground,
Where they engage in ghostly games,
But when you look, you'll see them not,
Nor ever know their names,
For they linger not on journey's path
Where they move soft as a whisper.
You may never see them stop to talk,
Nor even see but a whisker,
Unless they choose to show themselves
To those they love and trust.
A life time privilege so is that,
For they see you are true and just.
Glide onwardly sweet shadows.
Never stop unless you know
That those who wish to see you
Love you more than life's sweet flow.

poem by Rosi Caswell
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Mother and sphinx

(EGYPTIAN FOLK-SONG)

Grim is the face that looks into the night
Over the stretch of sands;
A sullen rock in a sea of white--
A ghostly shadow in ghostly light,
Peering and moaning it stands.
"Oh, is it the king that rides this way--
Oh, is it the king that rides so free?
I have looked for the king this many a day,
But the years that mock me will not say
Why tarrieth he!"

'T is not your king that shall ride to-night,
But a child that is fast asleep;
And the horse he shall ride is the Dream-horse white--
Aha, he shall speed through the ghostly light
Where the ghostly shadows creep!
"My eyes are dull and my face is sere,
Yet unto the word he gave I cling,
For he was a Pharaoh that set me here--
And, lo! I have waited this many a year
For him--my king!"

Oh, past thy face my darling shall ride
Swift as the burning winds that bear
The sand clouds over the desert wide--
Swift to the verdure and palms beside
The wells off there!
"And is it the mighty king I shall see
Come riding into the night?
Oh, is it the king come back to me--
Proudly and fiercely rideth he,
With centuries dight!"

I know no king but my dark-eyed dear
That shall ride the Dream-Horse white;
But see! he wakes at my bosom here,
While the Dream-Horse frettingly lingers near
To speed with my babe to-night!
And out of the desert darkness peers
A ghostly, ghastly, shadowy thing
Like a spirit come out of the mouldering years,
And ever that waiting spectre hears
The coming king!

poem by Eugene Field
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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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Nightriders In The Sky

T’was a night for dreaming
as I lie there looking at the stars.
My head rested against an old oak tree,
as I lie on a bed of heather new.
I could hear the ghostly breath
of the nightriders in the sky.
Their fiery steeds were like shooting stars
racing across the black velvet heavens,
as they rode their eternity quest.

I closed my eyes to dream of glory
just how they may have done.
Riding a white charger full gallop
to save a maiden fair,
to scoop her up into my arms
and into the sunset fade.
Rescuing this beautiful maiden fair
from the lustful clutches
of those who would do her harm.

Into sleep, I drifted deeper
and another quest before me lies.
To join the wandering band
of ghostly nightriders in the sky.
My steed sped with hooves of fire
across the black velvet heavens
in search of the eternity key,
but I was woken from my slumber.

The gamekeepers stood before me one, two and three.
They asked if I had been poaching
and where was my booty store.
I told them I was just a dreamer,
but they took no bid to my answer.
A rope across the oak was thrown and now
I am swinging there my body dangling free,
my spirit is now riding with
the ghostly nightriders in the sky.

poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Gardener X: Let Your Work Be, Bride

Let your work be, bride. Listen, the
guest has come.
Do you hear, he is gently shaking
the chain which fastens the door?
See that your anklets make no loud
noise, and that your step is not over-
hurried at meeting him.
Let your work be, bride, the guest
had come in the evening.
No, it is not the ghostly wind, bride,
do not be frightened.
It is the full moon on a night of
April; shadows are pale in the court-
yard; the sky overhead is bright.
Draw your veil over your face if
you must, carry the lamp to the door
if you fear.
No, it is not the ghostly wind, bride,
do not be frightened.
Have no word with him if you are
shy; stand aside by the door when you
meet him.
If he asks you questions, and if
you wish to, you can lower you eyes
in silence.
Do not let your bracelets jingle
when, lamp in hand, you lead him in.
Have no words with him if your are
shy.
Have you not finished you work yet,
bride? Listen, the guest has come.
Have you not lit the lamp in the
cowshed?
Have you not got ready the offering
basket for the evening service?
Have you not put the red lucky
mark at the parting of your hair, and
done your toilet for the night?
O bride, do you hear, the guest has
come?
Let your work be!

poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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Nathan La Franeer

I hired a coach to take me from confusion to the plane
And though we shared a common space I know Ill never meet again
The driver with his eyebrows furrowed in the rear-view mirror
I read his name and it was plainly written nathan la franeer
I asked him would he hurry
But we crawled the canyons slowly
Thru the buyers and the sellers
Thru the burglar bells and the wishing wells
With gangs and girly shows
The ghostly garden grows
The cars and buses bustled thru the bedlam of the day
I looked thru window-glass at streets and nathan grumbled at the grey
I saw an aging cripple selling superman balloons
The city grated thru chrome-plate
The clock struck slowly half-past-noon
Thru the tunnel tiled and turning
Into daylight once again I am escaping
Once again goodbye
To symphonies and dirty trees
With parks and plastic clothes
The ghostly garden grows
He asked me for a dollar more
He cursed me to my face
He hated everyone who paid to ride
And share his common space
I picked my bags up from the curb
And stumbled to the door
Another man reached out his hand
Another hand reached out for more
And I filled it full of silver
And I left the fingers counting
And the sky goes on forever
Without meter maids and peace parades
You feed it all your woes
The ghostly garden grows

song performed by by Joni Mitchell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Window Through The Mind

I saw my face in the window
ghostly pale within the window
steering straight through me.
A translucent face;
amidst the depths of emptiness
steering back through me.

Is that my face in the window
as I am yet to be?
If that’s my face in the window
I’ve nothing to fear
in the interim
of the realm that’s yet to be.

The hand of strength
is evoked in me,
inflamed
with sight to see.

poem by Terence George Craddock
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Brother John And Friends

I sat quietly in my study
and tried to concentrate
when I heard things crashing
all about the house,
then came the rattle of chains
a sound I had not heard in years.
I closed my eyes in dread,
as I knew who was calling
a pesky friend Brother John and his entourage.
Brother John was back with ghostly friends,
back to wreak havoc over my life again.
It wasn’t so much Brother John
but his dubious ghostly friends.
Bang went my peaceful life
as it had done many years before.
Now it was back to being ever watchful
of things flying across the room
of lights being switched on and off.
It was all mischievous fun
to Brother John and friends
and all I could do was sit
and wonder when will it ever end.

16 September 2009

poem by David Harris
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A Black Cat Crossed My Path

A black cat crossed my path
On a night of a full moon
He was carrying a pack on his back
And dancing around like a loon.

I thought it was a funny sight
I couldn’t believe my eyes
Then I saw a ghostly cat
In a transparent disguise.

His eyes glowed like fire
In the darkened night
My hands grew cold
I was filled with fright.

Just then the ghostly cat
Found the black cat by a tree
They both did a jig
And started singing merrily.

I was no longer scared
As they danced ‘round and ‘round
It was an unusual scene
And an unusual sound.

They sang Halloween songs
About pumpkins and goblins and bats
And as they sang
Along came about fifty other cats.

They all joined in
The sound grew so loud
But it was a happy sound
From a jolly crowd.

All of the cats were dancing
And having a good time
Then the ghostly cat invited me
To have a bite of a lime.

I told him it would be sour
He said “Well, come dance instead”
So I joined the singing cats
And danced with a cat named Fred.

He moved around quite fast
Hopping left and right
We both danced and danced
Deep into the night.

At last I had enough
I couldn’t dance anymore
So I said good-bye to all the cats
And Fred walked me to my door.

He asked if he could come in
I said “my two cats would probably mind”
So he said “I’ll see you around”
I said “I had a nice time.”

One year went by
Halloween was here again
A black cat crossed my path
I knew the party was about to begin.

Happy Halloween.

poem by Connie Webb
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Haunt Me Tonight

I hear the chimes playing the evening breeze,
Bringing the night along its way.
Just like the tide swaying the endless sea,
It keeps you forever from the day.
Chorus
Haunt me tonight.
Float to me on your illusion.
Show me a sign to let me know.
Haunt me tonight
Let me see your silent vision,
Thats all of your light I have to hold.
I cant explain, cant even understand
How what we had has come to this.
When loves sweet refrain is played with a ghostly hand,
And I am so helpless to resist.
Chorus
Haunt me tonight.
Float to me on your illusion.
Show me a sign to let me know
Yeah, yeah.
Haunt me tonight.
Let me see your silent vision,
Thats all of your light I have to hold.
[guitar interlude]
I feel you near, waiting beyond the shore,
Dont leave me longing anymore, ooh . . .
Repeat chorus

song performed by by Richard Marx
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Whiter Shade Of Pale

(k. reid/ g. brooker)
Producers for bonnie: hugh murphy/ ronnie scott/ steve wolfe
We skipped the light fandango
Turned cartwheels cross the floor
I was feeling kind of seasick
The crowd called out for more
The room was hummin harder
As the ceiling flew away
When we called out for another drink
The waiter brought a tray, so
* (oh) it was later
As the miller told his tale
That her face at first just ghostly
(it) turned a whiter shade of pale
She said there is no reason
And the truth is plain to see
As I wander through my playing cards
I could not let her be
One of sixteen vestal virgins
Who were leavin for the coast
And although my eyes were open
They might just as well have been closed
*repeat 2 times
Turned a whiter shade of pale

song performed by by Bonnie Tyler
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Whiter Shade Of Pale

(k. reid/ g. brooker)
Producers for bonnie: hugh murphy/ ronnie scott/ steve wolfe
We skipped the light fandango
Turned cartwheels cross the floor
I was feeling kind of seasick
The crowd called out for more
The room was hummin' harder
As the ceiling flew away
When we called out for another drink
The waiter brought a tray, so
* (oh) it was later
As the miller told his tale
That her face at first just ghostly
(it) turned a whiter shade of pale
She said there is no reason
And the truth is plain to see
As i wander through my playing cards
I could not let her be
One of sixteen vestal virgins
Who were leavin' for the coast
And although my eyes were open
They might just as well have been closed
*repeat 2 times
Turned a whiter shade of pale

song performed by by Bonnie Tyler
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sacrificed

I have sacrificed
every good intention in my life
just to make you happy
and if the bullets hit the targets
we fall
i hope your happy
sacrifice, sacrifice

Brush my cheeks, slowly
with your lips, ghostly
too little show of effection
scared it will radar some detection
I wrap my arms around your waist, slowly
cant let you go the thoughts, ghostly

I have sacrificed
every good intention in my life
just to make you happy
and if the bullets hit the targets
we fall
i hope your happy
sacrifice, sacrifice

poem by Twilighter dazzzler
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In The Quietude Of A Bluebells Mound

In and out the dappled dew wet ferns
My grey ghostly spirit glides
In and out these mottled skies
Beneath those blue bristle furs
Where a fox cub has lain aground...
Here shall my heart be found...
Here shall my spirits soul, resound...
Here in the quietude of a bluebells, mound.

poem by Mark Heathcote
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