For sixty years I've heard his voice
when night has claimed the day.
And deep it sounds like thunder's cry
when lightning has its say.
The winds then rise on wings of gold
then change to molten black.
Too soon they move across my mind;
too soon his words attack.
"Come with me love, you'll take my hand;
you'll stay with me tonight.
And you'll learn things when tender eyes
will close in fear and fright."
His voice comes haunting me this night,
my shaking body; chilled.
He promises he'll come for me-
his ghostly threat fulfilled.
I'll now not know another man.
His only, I will be.
And soon my screams will pierce the air.
His voice; the death of me.
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| Writing Prompt |
Write a poem of any length in any style about ghosts. It can be about a ghost or ghosts. It can be by a ghost. It can be a real ghost or a made up ghost. It can be the ghost of St. Patrick's Day or the ghost of the lover you scorned back to seek revenge. Use your imagination. You may have notes, boats, videos, Morgan Freeman reciting, holograms leaping off the page, any and all colors. Go crazy if you aren't there already. You may also simply write an excellent poem. Good luck! |
Author Notes
Sometimes a voice is the scariest part of a frightening person...even a ghost.
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