Comes The Haunt - Poem by Gary Revel
A wisp of shadow, a bump, a sigh,
A longing notion, not sure, so shy,
Yet fearsome feeling, comes the haunt.
What welcome could be like such ill,
A blast of evil spirit’s kills,
And comes more subtly, like a jaunt.
If ghost is spirit, from the tomb
Reign those shadows of evil doom
I'll not wait for those; there's no thought.
I'd be a'burnin' flamin' sprite
Before I'd know to feel the fright
To not look, try and see what's caught.
A sound within a sound not sure
But lurking, ghastly so unpure
Unholy conquest, devil's sperm
Comes hard and strong, drives deep within
To where no words can call it sin
The deals are made now only squirm.
Like bugs crawling all over skin
Then just beneath to crawl again
And then again and then death kills.
If lucky so t'would be done quick
If not drawn out for flames to lick
And burn and burn so goes the deals.
Comes the haunt to tell me all's well
You'll see in heaven or in hell
What may have been said but not known.
If all those words we may have read
Make up for times that comes the haunt
Mistakes we've made, the seeds we've sown,
Could be turned back, but comes the haunt.
That smoke I smell may be my own
From crematorium it's come.
Would this be pure or somewhat gray,
Close to white like ghostly presence
From my own mind, or where's it from?
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