Poems!
A cool poem written by one of our team members!
It was as grey and dark as the eyes of the night
Owls hooted from the tops of trees peering down from their height
The branches twisted mimicking a menacing mess of thorns and spines
The wind chilled everything it touched curling around me like a grey vine
A squadron of masked eyes glowed with a devilish smile
Breaking through the ink of the shadows appearing Vile
Raven wings squeezed every drop of hope
Not a single flame to stoke
It was the night of Halloween, The night of tricks and treats
There was fear in every heart but not all were downbeat
I was 4 and 10 months old and little did I know
I would love every moment of this day the older I grow
Recommendations!
- The ghost — by Richard Jones
I live in a house with no windows
a black curtain hangs on my door.
The voices of conscience torment me
I live in a room with no floor.
There’s dirt in the corner I can’t see
there’s water that runs down the wall.
There’re mice in the attic above me
and rats playing games in the hall.
I live in a house with no windows
and sleep in a room with no heat.
The darkness of life that surrounds me
Keeps out the sounds of the street.
I wake when the shadows have fallen
and walk when the memories cease.
When purpose in life has no meaning
and only the wicked find peace.
Each night you sense that I’m by you
you feel my breath as you sleep.
You hear the faint creak of the floorboards
as out from the shadows I creep.
I live in a house with no windows
I live in a house that’s now yours
It’s my voice you think that you’re hearing
for I died in this room with no doors.
2. The old wife and the ghost- by James Reeves
The old wife and the ghost
There was an old wife and she lived all alone
In a cottage not far from Hitchin;
And one bright night, by the full moonlight,
Comes a ghost right into her kitchen.
About that kitchen neat and clean
The ghost goes pottering round.
But the poor old wife is deaf as a boot
And hears never a sound…
The ghost blows up the kitchen fire,
As bold as bold can be;
He helps himself from the larder shelf,
But never a sound hears she.
He blows his hands to make them warm,
And whistles aloud “Whee-hee!”
But still as a sack the old soul lies
And never a sound hears she.
From corner to corner he runs about,
And into the cupboard he peeps;
He rattles the door and bumps on the floor,
But still, the old wife sleeps.
Jangle and bang go the pots and pans,
As he throws them all around;
And the plates and mugs and dishes and jugs,
He flings them all to the ground.
Madly the ghost tears up and down
And screams like a storm at sea;
And at last, the old wife stirs in her bed-
And it’s “Drat those mice”, says she.
Then the first cock crows and morning shows
And the troublesome ghost’s away.
But oh! What a pickle the poor wife sees
When she gets up next day.
‘Them’s tidy big mice’, the old wife thinks
And off she goes to Hitchin,
And a tidy big cat she fetches back
To keep the mice from her kitchen.
