It started with pebbles at the window,
when no one was in sight.
For about a week this went on,
at 8pm precise every night.
Then came the opening and closing doors,
by some unseen hand any hour of the day.
Furniture moved around on it their accord,
then the voices came,
arguing from somewhere.
Continual searches of each room,
but nothing was found there.
Suddenly it stopped, and harmony reined.
There was a rest bite for what was yet to come.
Several weeks passed peace and quiet remained.
Then as suddenly as it had stopped, it started up again.
Lights switched themselves on and off,
object flew across the room of their own accord,
small and large.
Pictures flew off the wall
and smashed to the floor.
Then came the knocks on the door,
with no one ever there.
The television gained a mind of its own,
switch on and off and changing channels at will.
Then things began to disappear,
we look for them still,
it was beginning to drive us crazy,
finally, we were at our wits end,
and priest we called in,
but whatever drove him away,
he never came back for a prayer to say.
We seemed to be stranded in this house,
that once we called our home,
and that has now become our hell.
David, what a scary read, some things have no explanation, remind me not to visit this house lol! A ten for this, Best wishes Lynda xx
Eery... haunting and a stylish read, particularly the ending. Not autobio I hope? t x
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Umm David... I write a ghost story then a couple of days later you write your own, but having said that a very good story at that... Who your going to call Ghost Busters.. A 10 from me My friend..