Shimmering softly
A figure in ancient clothes
Floating at the door
Poetry and Occasional Randomness
Shimmering softly
A figure in ancient clothes
Floating at the door
The spirit drifts – moves
Transparent nighttime motion
While the world slumbers
(pen and ink provided by my wife)
It was there,
just at the corner,
a twinkle,
a flash,
something quick,
fading out of sight.
Tick, tock, tick – night time
The hallway floor creaks softly
Footsteps in the dark
Ghostly creaks and moans
Rattle, Rattle, Rattle, Boo
Up and down the halls
I hear dead people,
talking through machines.
I hear dead people,
talking crisp and clean.
Frozen land, far from site.
Do you know there are ghosts down there?
From companies long abandoned,
and ships that have washed aground,
leaving restless souls from bodies never found.
Who knew that cold world was so active?
With spirit life.
Who knew the dead?
Walk.
Night after night.
Movement above me
Something in the attic dark
Stirring all about
She floats – transparent
Ghost descending down the stairs
She evaporates
Haunted?
Cursed.
Trapped?
Inside.
∞
The lamp – the object,
is cursed.
We’ve seen it turn on.
Hidden in the attic.
Sitting all alone.
No current, no electricity.
Does the spirit linger?
In objects,
once the body passes on.
Forever – eternal.
Never truly gone.
Do objects have a special place?
Some residual energy.
Do objects hold the key?
To all the spirits you hear and see.
An abandoned fort
A ghostly glowing soldier
Still standing his post
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For more prompts like “post” go here: Haiku Horizons