Ruth warren

Rookie (5/4/1973 / LONDON)

The Ghoul - Poem by Ruth warren

He limps down the street
you can hear the dragging of his feet.

He comes from the pits of Hell
what will he do next? No one can tell.

He goes to the graveyard late at night
into the darkness, out of sight.

The ghoul senses fresh meat
he sees an open grave and has a seat.

Owls in tree tops are watching him
the streetlights start growing dim.

He sits and tears the corpse apart
the ghoul starts eating the still bloody heart.

The corpse just put into the grave
the ghoul gets his fill, heads back to his cave.

He awaits for another night to begin
so he can sit and eat a freshly buried corpse again.


Comments about The Ghoul by Ruth warren

  • (6/18/2009 2:45:00 AM)


    So that's a ghouls life, huh. Sad and repulsive, which makes it even more...sad.
    He sees an open grave and has a seat-best line.
    (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Friday, April 14, 2006



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