David Harris

Gold Star - 4,611 Points (18 June 1945 / Bradfield, England)

The Ghost - Poem by David Harris

The yawning creak of the door
as ivy branches tap the windowpane,
dancing shadows from the candle
caught in a draught from beneath the door.
I sit in what is reputed to be a very haunted room
waiting to see a ghost no one has ever seen.
They’ve only heard the wailing
in the middle of the night.
Therefore, I’m sitting here
my imagination wanting to play tricks
on me as darkness falls.
I’ve come to help this lost wailing spirit
that seems bound to this room
and to help release it
into the heavenly light,
also to find its secret
why it is bound to this room.

The town clock chimes midnight.
I wait, but nothing happens.
Maybe the lost wailing spirit
has taken the night off.
A voice sounded from the gloom.
“Excuse me, are you still up? ”
I looked around
and there by the doorway
stood a tall dark figure there.
“Yes, how can I help you? ”
“Please put out the candle
as it is keeping me awake.”
“But this room is haunted
and I’m waiting to see the ghost.”
Then came, a hearty chuckle
from the dark figure.
“So they got you at as well.
Turn out the candle
and get good nights sleep.
There is no ghost here.
Who on earth told you that.
Whoever it was
just tell them Smiler told you so.”
The next morning
after one of the best sleeps,
I have ever had.
I told the proprietor who had invited me.
They laughed when I told them
that Smiler had told me so.
When they stopped laughing
they said. “Smiler is the ghost
we were telling you about.”

Comments about The Ghost by David Harris

  • (12/19/2007 5:56:00 AM)

    I love your little short stories: O) (Report) Reply

    0 person liked.
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  • (12/18/2007 3:39:00 PM)

    smiler got u, interesting write. (Report) Reply

Read all 2 comments »

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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, December 18, 2007

Poem Edited: Wednesday, July 6, 2011

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