The Screaming Spirit Poem by Kevin Hulme

What is that figure that stands silently alone
In the shadows by the Twilight of day,
Each night I see his steady gaze
From a vacant face set in deathly decay.
With clothing of black and a long mane of white hair
So silent he stares at my bed,
All manner of terror now flushing my veins
From his piercing eye with no word to be said.
For every black night by the Sun that descends
And all darkness blots Meadow and Vale,
I wait and wait for my dreadful fate
Alone in the gloom for the Horror to prevail.
To the measured tick of the grand old Clock
Counting down to the Union of Realms,
It's so I wait for his form to appear
A Ghastly crazed sight any Mortal befell.
Far off in the woods I hear an Owl
It's duty that Heralds the gloom,
A wayward branch taps on the pane
As a foreboding seeps through the chilled Room.
Oh Lord above, in Heavens name
Appearing in the far corner; it's there!
A shape beginning to break in form,
What stout Heart could bravely bare?
And so it stands in my Garret shade
His face a silent scream,
A Whitened face that turns me cold
A Curse from a troubled dream.
‘Oh be gone cruel Spirit, be gone'
‘Let me lie tonight unstirred',
But on he stands with his arm outstretched
A Cry thats forever unheard.
What troubled rest, if rest i'll have
Within the Chambers peace,
For his vigil will haunt my broken sleep
As the ways of Hell increase.