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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Related quotes
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
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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Graveyard Ghost
There was a graveyard by my house,
I saw a ghost while sleeping on the couch.
See I had just sprained my ankle,
and was upstairs,
I slept in the basement,
usually but my muscles I did tear.
So one night I woke up to see
what was hovering close to me.
A figure was at the foot of my bed,
it was a figure that I would soon dread,
Ghost whose body was long since dead.
I told him telepathically,
to get away and please do leave.
He put on the sweater that was at my feet,
I felt better and went back to sleep.
Now one month later I did see,
another figure outside by the tree.
He was waiting at the corner for a bus,
I thought was a human I did trust.
When I drove up to the corner
he had disappeared,
The bus was still coming,
it still wasn’t near.
Another ghost comes to see if I’m o.k,
that’s what my friend did say.
No harm from the ghosts across the street,
they keep to themselves unless you
were in pain like me.
Written on Feb.21,2011 by Christina Sunrise
poem by Suzae Chevalier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Uncle Lenny
There is an Italian who lives in New York City,
he is a sweetheart, he thinks I'm pretty.
He came down to see me and took me out to eat,
we talked of a stalker who lives on his street.
Yes, he is handsome for his age,
stalker lady goes through his mail reading one page.
Now Uncle Lenny has seen it all,
in NYC taxi cab he drove tourists with alot of gall.
Yes, Uncle Lenny drove a NYC taxi cab,
A safe driver award plaque he does have.
Now we went to Tampa and I heard some ghosts,
He said he didn't hear any for his ears are toast.
He's sweetheart who thinks of me,
He left surprises in my luggage for me to keep.
Now Uncle Lenny still can drive,
He is quick and has a sharp keen eye.
Thanks Uncle Lenny for the happy memories,
it was fun and very interesting!
(By Suzae Chevalier on August 10,2011)
poem by Suzae Chevalier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Uncle Lenny
There is an Italian who lives in New York City,
he is a sweetheart, he thinks I’m pretty.
He came down to see me and took me out to eat,
we talked of a stalker who lives on his street.
Yes, he is handsome for his age,
stalker lady goes through his mail reading one page.
Now Uncle Lenny has seen it all,
in NYC taxi cab he drove tourists with alot of gall.
Yes, Uncle Lenny drove a NYC taxi cab,
A safe driver award plaque he does have.
Now we went to Tampa and I heard some ghosts,
He said he didn’t hear any for his ears are toast.
He’s sweetheart who thinks of me,
He left surprises in my luggage for me to keep.
Now Uncle Lenny still can drive,
He is quick and has a sharp keen eye.
Thanks Uncle Lenny for the happy memories,
it was fun and very interesting!
(By Suzae Chevalier on August 10, 2011)
poem by Christina Sunrise
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hummingbird Hotel
There one was a Hummingbird hotel,
in Lake Worth I remember it well.
For it has stories to be told,
one is about Al Capone.
He stayed with his gang,
on one of the floors,
betting on a team
that would have
a top score.
Betting on a boxing match
that was played in Chicago,
little did anyone literally know.
Many years later I would arrive,
paint on the sidewalk
just outside,
I was happy
and filled with pride.
I was a rogue artist
that did not give up,
even when they said there
was no more spots.
Now this year the
Hummingbird hotel is closed,
still many stories need to be told,
Thank you Winston
for sharing what you know,
and letting be in the Street Painting show.
Written by Christina Sunrise on Feb.21,2011
poem by Suzae Chevalier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Gecko Talks to Me
“I wish I was in a human body”,
the gecko said as he walked across the screen.
He spoke to me after the ghost turned back on my t.v.
I said o.k. I won’t mess with the t.v.
Then an hour later,
the fan went on and off 1 x 3.
I just let it do its thing,
why fight with a ghost I can’t see?
Then when in the bathroom,
I heard a noise coming from the other room,
I looked to see if everything was o.k.
until the light went out
without a clue.
Now 2 weeks later,
the fan starts by itself again,
I realize it’s my ghost friend.
(Written by Suzae Chevalier on August 15, 2011)
poem by Suzae Chevalier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Graveyard Ghost
There was a graveyard by my house,
I saw a ghost while sleeping on the couch.
See I had just sprained my ankle,
and was upstairs,
I slept in the basement,
usually but my muscles I did tear.
So one night I woke up to see
what was hovering close to me.
A figure was at the foot of my bed,
it was a figure that I would soon dread,
Ghost whose body was long since dead.
I told him telepathically,
to get away and please do leave.
He put on the sweater that was at my feet,
I felt better and went back to sleep.
Now one month later I did see,
another figure outside by the tree.
He was waiting at the corner for a bus,
I thought was a human I did trust.
When I drove up to the corner
he had disappeared,
The bus was still coming,
it still wasn’t near.
Another ghost comes to see if I’m o.k,
that’s what my friend did say.
No harm from the ghosts across the street,
they keep to themselves unless you
were in pain like me.
Written on Feb.21,2011 by Christina Sunrise
poem by Christina Sunrise
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Bottomless Lake
Heres the story of a man and his family
And a big trip that they took
Well, I heard all about in a restaurant
And I read it in a history book
They rented a car at the erie canal
But the car didnt have no brake
Said ma to pa my God this car
Is gonna fall into the bottomless lake
Well, mama turned to daddy with a pale face
Said Ive done something horribly wrong
Well, the waters still runnin in the bathtub
And I think I left the kitchen light on
Then I heard a crash the car when splash
And the compass rolled around and around
Oh, for heavens sake! we fell in a lake
And I think were all gonna drown
Chorus:
We are falling down
Down to the bottom of a hole in the ground
Smoke em if you got em
Im so scared I can hardly breathe
I may never see my sweatheart again
Play once after first verse
There was plenty of food in the backseat
And the windows were rolled up tight
So we all nibbled on a chicken leg
Told stories way thru the night
Well, pa told one that he told before
And the baby got a bellyache
Said ma to pa my God this car
Falling down a bottomless lake
Repeat chorus:
Poppa played the music on the radio
Mama rocked the baby to sleep
He said he wouldve taken the other road
But he didnt think the lake was that deep
Well, if the ferry been there at the end of the pier
Wed be half way to uncle jakes
Instead of looking at fish out the window I wish
Wed hit the bottom of the bottomless lake
stead of looking at fish out the window I wish
Wed hit the bottom of the bottomless lake
So if youre ever goin on a big trip
Ya better be careful out there
Start everything on you good foot
And wear clean underwear
Take along a Bible in the backseat
Read of david and solomon
For if you make a mistake in the bottomless lake
You may never see your sweetheart again
If you should make a mistake in the bottomless lake
You may never see your sweetheart again
If you should make a mistake in the bottomless lake
You may never see your sweetheart again
song performed by by John Prine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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“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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Tony The Race Car Driver
His name is Tony, but I call him Tone,
he has a D.J. business to play your songs,
while you dance all night long.
Now I met him one night on New Year’s Eve,
I was dancing on a table and did not see,
Tony sitting below me at the bar,
he smiled at me then gave me his business card.
Scorpio was the name of his D.J. business,
he also plays the drums, I do confess.
Now, he has one shy Persian cat,
she hides under the couch,
no one knows where’s she’s at.
Other than that, he watches football
Fan of the Pittsburg Stealers,
they lost over Wisc. last year, people where squealing.
Tony has a red corvette that I can’t drive,
Tony goes real fast, thank God he’s still alive.
Now Tony and his Uncle Lenny are really fun,
they always joking around with everyone.
Thanks Tone, I hope you get the girl,
and she colors your world.
Written by Suzae Chevalier on September 26,2011
www.puppetpoems.com
poem by Christina Sunrise
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Can’t Sleep
I couldn’t sleep at Big Bear Lake,
I ate a cheese steak and a chocolate cake,
boy that was a big mistake.
I kept tossing and turning in bed all night,
until the sun came out and was really bright.
I knew the next I would be on stage in front
of a hundred or more,
I didn’t know what was in store.
Would my act be too kiddy for the comic bunch,
I usually performed in front of kids before lunch.
The act did get some laughs and photos were shot,
of me and Melodie on stage where it was hot.
Hot with lights shining down on us,
we both story told a tale without a fuss.
Now I wrote this poem which I thought would be short and sweet,
it was a fun and interesting time at Big Bear Lake
I just can’t have cheese steak and chocolate cake.
Written By Suzae Chevalier on November 25,2011
poem by Christina Sunrise
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Other Side for M Lady Tara
Two little ghosts out walking at night
When one little Ghost cried out in fright
Oh Dear I think I see a man.
He’s over there I’m sure I can
The other ghost says you cannot do
there are no men they are not true
Just old Ghosts tales to frighten you
and if they were what could they do
There are no men there never was
I know that’s true because.
My old professor told me so
and he was clever he should know.
The whole idea amuses me
A living man you’ll never see
(Apr 04)
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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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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Storytelling Poet
I would like to say I am a storyteller foremost,
my poems are stories, like the Poem about the Ghost.
My 'People' poems are a happy story,
poems are never sad, mean or gory.
'Peeve' poems where written when I was mad,
I couldn't express it to people who made me sad.
Now 'Pet' poems are always happy, funny or cute,
some make you cry or laugh like a hoot.
Now I want to write like C.S. Elliot one day,
maybe before I'm old and grey.
My initials are C.S. or S.C. Suzae or Sue,
one day poets will copy my storytelling poetry style too.
Written By Suzae Chevalier on January 20,2012
www.suechevalier.com www.melodiememories.com
poem by Suzae Chevalier
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Daring JearBear
He's not the average scared bear,
He's a bear that really dares.
Dares to climb high into the sky,
up to his tree house as bees fly by.
Bees flying around his honeycomb,
Really close to his tree house home.
He swats them away with his big bear claw,
Then he goes into his house and has a gnaw.
He naws on his favorite bite,
It's a hamburgers filled with dust mites.
Then he goes to cut some zzzz's
Then he starts to dream,
of funny things like buzzing bees.
Then he feels a sting,
it's a real bee stinging his knee.
He jumps up and makes a roar,
he runs out his tree house door.
Jumps down to the ground
and jumps in the lake,
he feels relief and has a great day.
Written by Suzae Chevalier on September 20,2011
poem by Suzae Chevalier
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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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Gecko Talks to Me
“I wish I was in a human body”,
the gecko said as he walked across the screen.
He spoke to me after the ghost turned back on my t.v.
I said o.k. I won’t mess with the t.v.
Then an hour later,
the fan went on and off 1 x 3.
I just let it do its thing,
why fight with a ghost I can’t see?
Then when in the bathroom,
I heard a noise coming from the other room,
I looked to see if everything was o.k.
until the light went out
without a clue.
Now 2 weeks later,
the fan starts by itself again,
I realize it’s my ghost friend.
(Written Suzae Chevalier on August 14, 2011 )
poem by Christina Sunrise
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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There Is A New Door In My House
There is a new 'door' in the little boy's house,
Where there was not one before,
A new 'cat shaped' hole' in the kitchen,
a new 'cat sized' hole in the door.
'But what about locks and bolts? ' the little boy asked,
Tugging at his my mum's loose apron strings.
'To keep out ghosts and scary monsters',
'and all those horrible night time things.'
'We don't need locks' the boy's mum said,
'Its only cats that can get through'.
'But what about 'cat' sized monsters,
or ghosts of that size too? '
'Go to bed now', the boy's mum said,
'What are you worrying for? '
'It's ghosts and scary monsters mum
that would fit nicely through that door? '
He went up the stairs to his room,
And tried to get to sleep,
But was thinking of ghosts and scary monsters,
Not happy jumping sheep.
'Tap, Tap', he woke, that noise (he thought) ,
It came up from the ground floor! ,
A tap, tap, tap, at the cat flap,
A noise from the cat shaped door.
A shiver ran stright down the little boy's spine,
Is it monster or a ghost?
Shaking, he crept straight down the stairs thinking 'what would scare me most? '
He crawled right up to the cat flap,
To see what was at the door,
Was it the ghosts or scary monsters,
The boy was thinking of before?
He peered into the gloom of the flap,
He strained his eyes to see,
'What might it have been that made that Tap, ,
Waiting out there for me? '.
'Tap, Tap... Tap, Tap...
Again, the noise from the flap,
Tap, Tap from the cat sized door,
Two green and bulbous eyes were there,
That were not there before.
The boy sat still, afraid to move,
Chilled straight down to his core,
The eyes began to peer at him,
Straight through the cat shaped door.
Tap.. Tap.., Tap, Tap..
That sound again, just like the tap before.
What if this thing, can fit straight through,
The cat sized and unlocked door?
Slowly, the cat flap began to open,
Sweat rolled off the boy's cold brow,
Those round green eyes were now inside,
When a sound was heard....
'Meoooow'
poem by Alexander Johnson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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