Ghosts of the Past
Ghosts of a past are upstairs,
Hiding in the shadows of mystery,
In the really dark corners
Where we as children stir and craze
Over the burden of our coming years
In this haunted residence that I call my sweet mansion.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Ghosts And Modernity
Ghosts & Modernity
The old house has been modernised the hallway, where
ghosts spooked, is now a bathroom, and since there is no
entrance one has to exit through the kitchen window on
a ladder on the wall, this is called saving space, a modern
and fun way to live. The ghosts have gone, no dark corners
and no children with imagination to see what practical
adults are blind to. Closing my eyes I can see children and
ghosts, but not as clearly as before, the kaleidoscope has
gone fuzzy with the distance and it saddens me too that
I’m the only one left to remember a draughty hallway and
the warm glow of true fairytales sprung from the mind of
the very young.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Ghosts Of Our Past
Ghosts Of Our Past
We are haunted all the time
by ghosts of our past
for things we did long ago.
They remind us often
of the mistakes we made
and cannot amend.
These ghosts can come to us
at almost anytime
and we always refer to them
as our memories.
3 May 2008
poem by David Harris
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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
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My Dark
Why do I always seek the dark?
The nice wholesome dark
Never judging; never caring
Self helping dark
The dark corners of my life
These corners are my life
Where ever I go I seek
These dark corners; my corners
They make me feel secure
Feel wanted; surrounded
At peace
Like the rest of the world is gone
Why must I use the dark?
Where do these issues come from?
Where does this sorrow come from?
Why can’t I have answers?
I need these dark corners
They are so reassuring
Their echoes speak to me; they don’t mock me
They are my dark safe corners
poem by Deep Dark Soul Poet
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Obtained By Ghosts
Ghosts obtain justice from us,
As we are near extinction.
Ghosts monitored our moves
Like houses of parliament.
Their revelry is unjustified
As far as lieutenancy.
I marry those ghosts meaningfully
To images of past poltergeists.
I have conquered burgers and chips
With a few of them.
They sedate me, cast a crate of food
On the floor in malpractice -
Professional or educational?
Both of these men are ghosts
And I am teased, when I am haunted.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Dark Ages
I am coming out of dark ages
And I lived half way through my life
Also I got my hand dirty in the mud a long time ago
I did it and got my tshirt and that job is over
I am coming out of dark ages
Because I spent most of my life in dark ages
And I saw so many dark skies while I went through my life in dark ages
I am coming ou of the dark ages
To help the children in their daily life
By teaching what is right and wrong
Because the children needs to learn what is right and wrong
So they don't became a criminal when they grew up
Because here on earrth are full of criminals already and we have more than What we can handle
I am coming out of the dark ages
To show my love to the children that lives here on the earth with us
I am coming out of the dark ages
Because I want to play with the children everyday here on the earth Because I know that I can make the children happy for once
poem by Aldo Kraas
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Haunted By Their Own Misdeeds
One should never base their opinion given,
Received from another...
To judge someone else with purposes to defame.
The outcome to them delivered by such actions...
May not return the same to shame.
However...
The chances that the consequences faced,
Seldom embraces them to favor.
Since most people are often haunted,
By their own misdeeds.
Squeezing from their minds,
A comforting of rational sensibilities.
Left to themselves they are.
And abandoned.
To convalesce on their own alone.
And a wish to sleep peacefully at night,
Is rare.
As unfamiliar sounds come to creep in the silent air.
'Who's there? '
They are haunted by their misdeeds.
'I can hear your footsteps.'
They are haunted by their misdeeds.
'Slowly...as a stalking panther,
I can hear you coming up the stairs.'
They are haunted by their misdeeds.
And when the dawn comes to find them shaking,
Crotched in the corners to hide from darkened shadows...
Lifted.
It is soon discovered,
A door thought locked and bolted had been left open.
Leaving them to wonder...
How many visits like this will be repeated?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Edison Museum
The edison museum, not open to the public
Its haunted towers rise into the clouds above
Folks drive in from out of town
To gaze in amazement when they see it
Just outside the gate I look into the courtyard
Underneath the gathering thunderstorm
Through the iron bars, I see the black maria
Revolving slowly in its platform
In the topmost tower, the lights burn dim
A coiling filament glowing within
The edison museum, once a bustling factory
Today is but a darkened cobweb covered hive of industry
The tallest, widest and most famous haunted mansion in new jersey
Behind a wooden door, the voice of thomas alva
Recites a poem on a phonograph
Ghosts float up the stairs, like silent moving pictures
The loyal phantoms of his in house staff
A wondrous place it is, there can be no doubt
But no one ever goes in, and no one ever goes out
The edison museum, not open to the public
Its haunted towers rise into the clouds above it
The oldest, greatest and most famous haunted mansion in new jersey
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dark and Glory
Dark and Dark is down below,
Echoing casually on the wing of a Crow.
Enter the Deep and never return;
Play with Shadows until you burn.
Become One with the Dark and observe
The prickle of Fear on your nerve.
Raven, Crow, pick out your eyes
In the Dark, pick on the Prize.
Shadows and Devils mount in hordes,
Mock and tease the Demon Lords.
Take the Breath that is your last
And Remember nothing of that Past.
Drought the Dark is hiding now
Rust the bones in a Bleeding bow.
Find the Center and Rot it down,
Win the Glory and take the Crown.
poem by Becky Schulz
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Persecution Complex
What to do when ghosts appear at noon? Coming up the lane
to my retreat, where I have been hiding for twenty years, from
wife her eight children, five horses and a pack of howling dogs.
They are coming to take me away. Camp outside my cottage
knock on windows looking in calling my name want to come in.
How long can I hide behind the sofa the floor is stone hard?
It is dark now but they have flashlights shine into windows to
see sign of life, I have to try sneak into the kitchen they can’t
see me there, open a tin of sardines and drink cold water.
This is going to turn into a long siege. It’s three in the morning
they sleep in their tents, I sneak out take my scooter, and as
it is downhill all the way to the main road, they can’t hear me.
They can take my house, locus eat my land and sell my tractor.
I drive into summer dawn, free of domestic enslavement.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Shadows
The rising of the moon wakes up the shadows
and commands them to emerge from the dark.
The daylight shadows are disappearing fast
with the sparrows the dove and the lark.
As always the light makes way for darkness
as it’s chased from night’s time and space.
The dark shapes seek out those of the light,
at this hour there’s no hiding place.
The shadows of the darkness will not submit,
away from the light they’re there.
Instinctively they wait until it’s eerie
then venture where nothing else dare.
After a night of changing shape and haunting
the shadows themselves feel fear.
The daylight is coming up on the horizon
and the night shadows flee and disappear.
poem by Orlando Belo
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Come Upstairs
(carly simon/mike mainieri)
Sitting in a car here
After a party where weve seen
Everyone weve known for years
Well Ive known you for years
Oh but now its all changed
And all of my feelings
Have been rearanged
(chorus)
Come upstairs
Well be all alone
Come upstairs
No one will know
Come upstairs
We can take of the phone
Come upstairs
You can take of my clothes
Say that it feels good
Maybe too good to say that it feels like a dream
You want to knock on some wood
Well Ill give you some wood
And Ill give you some fire
Ill give you myself
And I will show you my desire
Come upstairs
Well have a few laughs
Come upstairs
Well take a bath
Come upstairs
Its only one flight
Come upstairs
You can stay overnight
Ill give you some wood
Yeah, Ill give you some fire
Ill give you myself
And I will show you my desire
Chorus
song performed by by Carly Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I shot a lot of close-ups on this movie 'cause there's like a dual mystery, she's searching through her haunted past to find some truth and she's also following an external mystery where she comes to think she might be the killer.
quote by Philip Kaufman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Are you afraid of the dark for M' lady Tara
The silent shadows secretly
hide in dark corners through the day.
They are aware that they must wait
until nightfall to congregate.
In the open and combine
into something man can’t define.
An entity with one desire
to terrify and to inspire.
In the hearts and minds of men
old atavistic memories
The fears their forbears knew again
from which they can gain no release,
As long as total darkness reigns
When dawn breaks; then the sun will rise.
The shadows flee to hide again.
Conceal them selves from human eyes..
As always they will lie in wait
in hidden corners out of sight.
Patiently to congregate
to celebrate the fall of night.
When shadows come into their own.
Reviving mankind’s ancient fears
of darkness when daylight has flown.
As they have done for countless years,
and will for all the years to come.
Although the modern man believes
Such foolish fears he’ll overcome
It’s only himself he deceives.
13/05/2009
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Haunted
THE house is haunted; when the little feet
Go pattering about it in their play,
I tremble lest the little one should meet
The ghosts that haunt the happy night and day.
And yet I think they only come to me;
They come through night of ease and pleasant day
To whisper of the torment that must be
If I some day should be, alas! as they.
And when the child is lying warm asleep,
The ghosts draw back the curtain of my bed,
And past them through the dreadful dark I creep,
Clasp close the child, and so am comforted.
Cling close, cling close, my darling, my delight,
Sad voices on the wind come thin and wild,
Ghosts of poor mothers crying in the night--
'Father, have pity--once I had a child!'
poem by Edith Nesbit
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A discard doll
I slipped from the Manor's upstairs into the trash bin.
My hair burnt, eyes removed and they amputated my hands.
I stuck in the leftovers, among the stench I cannot see anything
And I write on a broken slate with a piece of chalk which gripped by my right foot's fingers.
Darkness is better than a true vision.
And I think of the new doll who sings well in the upstairs.
I humbly pray for her a long-life in the Mansion.
*[ Australian Man throws the daughter off bridge. A morning News.]
I dedicate this poem to innocent street children where they sleep under the same transparent sky.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Shadow March
All around the house is the jet-black night;
It stares through the window-pane;
It crawls in the corners, hiding from the light,
And it moves with the moving flame.
Now my little heart goes a beating like a drum,
With the breath of the Bogies in my hair;
And all around the candle and the crooked shadows come,
And go marching along up the stair.
The shadow of the balusters, the shadow of the lamp,
The shadow of the child that goes to bed--
All the wicked shadows coming tramp, tramp, tramp,
With the black night overhead.
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
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Lonely Cities Of The Heart
As the midnight fades in boys town
And the hustle stops to glow
This urban landscape sprawls before me
And the hunger starts to grow
But something more than my daddy showed to me
How he wanted to make a man of me
Living in the lonely cities of the heart
Hiding in the shadows and searching in the dark
My mama reads me like an open book
She knows when Im up or down
But every night I stay longer
In the creole part of town
Something more than what the good lord gave to me
Something more, much more than this
Living in the lonely cities of the heart
Hiding in the shadows, searching in the dark
And it never stops, no it never stops, no one defends you now
Living in the lonely cities of the heart
(instrumental)
I can take a little pain, but not tonight again
Outside my hotel window I hear the mardi gras
Keep the candle burning bright babe, Ive come too far
As daylight creeps through the curtains I start to slip away,
And everything that seems so certain is just another day
Living in the lonely cities of the heart
Hiding in the shadows searching in the dark
And it never stops, no it never stops, no one defends you now
Living in the lonely cities of the heart
Hiding in the shadows searching in the dark
And it never stops, no it never stops, no one defends you now
Living in the lonely cities of the heart
Living in the lonely cities of the heart...
song performed by by Ufo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Children Of Shadows
Children of bullying wake to a befallen doom
As they prepare for school
Not knowing what the day will behold
Everyone wants to be understood
Why must they be bullied?
You just don't know how it tarnishes their self esteem
It hurts so bad
Please stop!
Let me be
The pain is unbearable
So they see themselves as a shadow
Children of shadows don't want to be spit on
Children of shadows don't want to be laughed at
Children of shadows don't want to be humiliated
No one wants to be thrown in the trash
Children of shadows can overcome
Children of shadows can be loved
Children of shadows can be understood
Because we are not a shadow
But a fierce soul
poem by Alisha Ricks
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Twenty Years In Algarve
Twenty years in Algarve (biography)
I have lived in the upper Algarve for twenty years. I have been hiding away
from life all those years, I know every bush tree, every bend in the road,
seen, seasons coming and go, trapped in my own alcoholic mind, unable to
be free from this slavery that only makes me feel at ease when the bottles
have been emptied and sleep brings in a new day. Then working through
the day, blind never taking the time to befriend anyone, relax; for my quest
is the night when I can open a bottle of wine and dream the loser’s reverie
and see myself if I could be free of the pasts ghosts. My childhood is my
nightmare, only wine, for a while, stills my fear; those disgusting people
who abused a child. Shall I ever be able to break the chain of fear, feel
equal to fellow man? Alcoholism is a burden, a struggle I’m losing as I sink
into old age misery.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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