Poetry About Ghosts
Poetry and verses about ghosts, spirits, presences and spookiness, sometimes with a Victorian theme, and often with an ethereal, or mystical atmosphere.
by Mysty Brett
Scroll down for poems with the following titles:
Still Near Waning Autumn Moon Haunting Echoes Something Walking Through The Dark
Nurturing Night Dream In Ruffles and Lace Silver Rose Overshadowed A Fog-WreathedMoon
Haunting Encounter Nightfall
for poetry about vampires and the sinister earthbound: http://mystymysty.wixsite.com/undeadpoetry
Still Near
Forever closed, those jet-lashed violet eyes.
Never more, to cast their soulful beams.
Near-ceaseless, harrowing coughing, swooning sighs;
As silenced now, as time-forgotten streams.
A beloved form, and voice, rare lightest tred; -
All vanquished these three years, for She is dead!
Enshrouded away in darkness, like a star,
Their martyred Queen, fey angel, their Mamma.
Then whose dress silken rustles, on dark nights?
When all are snug in bed, with gas turned low?
Whose shadows flits, commoting sudden frights,
In maid at stairwelll's foot, in pale moonglow?
Whose vi'let water, powder sweets the air,
Where only other flowers' sachets grace?
Comforting alone, five bereaved ones there,
Recalling a soft breast, and saintly face?
Soon sister turns to sister, whispering,
Of visits through their fog-wreathed windows made,
To two of them, while the rest lie sleeping;
She talking, seeming solid, not a shade.
Dreams, some thought, but in that house of blondeness,
(Apart from mourning bracelets, brooches, ring),
Who left on Aunt's flax plait, in silvered dimness,
A rod-long hair, black as the raven's wing?
Stooping over Aunt, the wraith had kissed her.
Now that brow lies also in the tomb.
For centuries have passed, so time has gathered,
All then there, into it's hallowed gloom.
But, don't think, with all her loved ones now free,
Of earth's leaden fetters, she rests too ...
Her grave, emits healing like a huge tree.
Soak in some - and she may appear - to you!
_____________________________________
Waning Autumn Moon
Oh, waning autumn moon,
that lingers low, -
Besides, the old church tower,
this midnight hour -
Bring her to me!
Oh, waning, Autumn moon,
vast heaven's boat -
Complete, your languid trail,
Oh, sweet barge pale -
Set my love free!
The time is ripe!
The tide, flows almost out,
while before me I see -
beyond, those open shutters,
My own dear love -
Swooning, against her pillows,
with her throat,
fair bosom, and her bedsheets,
drenched in blood!
An owl hoots, within the wood -
And from the gatepost shrieks a banshee's wail,
As swathed in luscious locks, all red like cherries,
she weeps for the milk-blonde maid,
whom the earth did bale -
but, whom the stars will crown!
_________________________________
Haunting Echoes
piteous coughing:
swooning-time sighs:
agonised shrieking:
muffled-toned cries:
rustling, silk dresses:
floorboards soft creek:
heard, deep in midnight,
from empty rooms bleak.
Open the door there,
what would you see?
Gruesome, pale spectres,
making you flee?
Blood-spattered boudoirs?
Weird wraiths who weep?
Best keep your door shut,
block it out, and sleep.
____________________________
Something Walking Through The Dark
Something walking through the dark,
towards my bed.
Every night, as I lie there,
eyes closed with dread.
A whispered sigh, the sound of feet,
faint on the floor.
I guess I pass out, as I know,
each night no more.
A presence sensed,
quite suddenly,
is how it starts.
The feel of nights,
oppressiveness,
cold round my heart.
An icy draught -
it, rustling, moves,
creeps stealthily.
Is it trying,
but lacks strength,
to reach harm me?
Long hair's caress,
soft warmth of breath,
drift through a dream.
I open my eyes -
see in front of me -
a floating skull.
________________________
Nurturing Night (lyrics)
In an old cottage, roofed with thatch,
she dreams beneath the moon.
A long-haired blonde, in ruffled white,
seventeen that June.
And as she dreams, night brings escape,
from scholarly irons, and competitive hate,
for energies stir, through all in that place,
drifting through curtains of lace.
(drifting through curtains,
drifting through curtains,
drifting through curtains, of lace).
Mists are swirling in the marsh,
close by the garden gate.
A black cat steps down an old oak tree,
to the faerie wench who waits.
An owl is hooting, and past the moon,
three bats now hover, a weird triune,
and winds do roam, and rustle the grass,
down to where few footsteps pass.
(down to where few footsteps,
down to where few footsteps,
down to where few footsteps, pass).
A clear call has been made;
subconsciously, responsively;
and from it's grave, glides a shade,
to the maid's bedside, by sympathy swayed ...
Fragments linger, in her mind,
as daybreak tints the fields.
Dressing, weary, sad, alone,
to discipline she yields.
But all that day, she'll know the face,
the quaint-toned voice, and the languid grace,
of one, she thinks, was only a dream,
born upon a moonbeam.
Born, upon a moonbeam.
__________________________________
Dream In Ruffles And Lace
Dream In Ruffles And Lace,
Don't Stir.
With you hair like a lamb's long fleece,
Rolling over your bosoms white, foamy waves, sleep.
Though mists swirl outside your bedroom lattice,
And above them, the moon looms full.
Dream in ruffles and lace,
just sleep.
Though a dog howls in a yard nearby,
Just breathe, your sweet breath out, don't cry.
Thus shimmer the silver flowers,
Embroidered on your nightgown's froth.
Dream, your peaceful dreams,
While something at your bed's foot stirs.
Relive, watching the swans gliding in the glade;
Lately, your compelled tending of a stranger's grave;
And all your cosy, pretty girlish delights.
A black shape rises at the foot of your bed, but, be calm.
It hovers – huge, and swelling – don't alarm.
Though a bat zig-zags squeaking over your chest,
Moonbeams glint from the cross near your throat.
And soon, the scent of violets fills the air,
and the room lightens, grey fog slipping through the casement,
by your Virgin's altar there.
And, now she's here.
The woman you saw in your dressing-table mirror,
in recent candlelight. Small, slight, with bell-shaped skirt,
Black ringlets glossy by her pallid neck.
A cross is near her throat,
a testament in her hand,
And still, the faint lingering of grave-earth's about her;
White poppies edge her veil.
Perhaps, tonight, you will dream of her.
_______________________________
Silver Rose
bats hover past the willows
an owl hoots in the dusk
sweet through the twilight shadows
a dressing-table's musk
past opened mullioned windows
sits prinks a damsel fair
twining a silver silk rose
into her long lush hair
silver rose
raised by only moonlight
silver rose
grown in midnight's garden
cast your scent
through dark's waves shine shimmer
for you know
your destiny must grow
within shadow
silver vases of violets
a snow-white powder puff
hearts-of-lace-framed verses
cream-coloured mules of fluff
air begins to vibrate
a wraith floats on that breeze
misty quaint wasp-waisted
pulsating tranquil ease
silver rose
blossom now in moonlight
silver rose
beacon through the darkness
cast your spell
far and wide shine shimmer
now you know
the reasons why you glow
within shadow
_________________________
Overshadowed
Drenched in black veils:
snowdrops at her breast:
a woman in the fog,
singing a mournful dirge: -
a dream upon the street,
the fog clouds parting swirling;
a ghost in flesh and bone
spellbinding me away.
_________________
A Fog-Wreathed Moon
A fog-wreathed moon,
when dark shadows fled,
revealed you to me:
one long known from my dreams.
black coils of midnight, your hair;
white oval face;
your mourning garb;
and your slight-with-child-curved figure
and, the baby -
so small and pinched and pale -
frilled lace bonnet -
my family from the past, -
Just for some moments,
you were truly there,
the joy, of your reality,
so revealed, and mine to touch!
________________________
Haunting Encounter
Trailing, dark ringlets,
dense spirals of night.
Lurid, deep bruises,
on arms thin soft white.
Eyes filled with teardrops;
Her sobs of heartbreak!
Piteous coughing,
My sentiments wake.
Weeping one, weeping,
deep draw to my soul.
Alone, we're alone here,
with anguish your toll.
Fog swirls in round us,
Fears twinge through my dream;
A tomb, now looms by you -
you're fading – I scream!
___________________
Nightfall
cleaning my teeth
in my snuggest nightclothes
as darkness falls
I spot a bat
passing the pane above me
glimpse a gliding figure
in the bathroom mirror
freeze
as a feeling of foreboding
seizes my soul
______________________
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