Poetry ~ A Haunting Game

haunting logo 2

Shall we play a haunting game
a game of hide and seek?
the family’s all here
Aunt Lizzie
Cousin Alfred
and me

I’ll start counting
and promise not to peek
but where are the others?
it’s no fun with just three

don’t fret, silly girl,
the others will arrive at dark

now
ready, set
find your mark!

ah-ha!
is that you, Aunt Lizzie,
hiding under the stairs?

no, silly girl,
comes a voice from thin air
that’s Cousin Alfred
catch him if you dare!

wait!
I hear him whistling
behind a closed door

tag!
you’re it, Alfred
that evens the score!

hmmm,
as for Aunt Lizzie
where would she hide?
the lagoon, of course,
that’s where she died!

touché, silly girl,
you’re too clever for words
but who is that whispering?
I think we’ve been heard

ah-ha!
the others have arrived
Lizzie giggles with glee

Alfred floats off
whistling carefree

let the hauntings begin
we have more than three
more than two ghosts,
two ghosts
and me

POETRY LOGO

Poetry ~ The Dead Poet


I’ve met a dead poet.
I’m sure you’ve read a few, but this one haunts me.
Do they haunt you too?

I call her “Lizzie” and the name suits her well,
a Victorian Poet with a story to tell.

Her voice is distinctive, lusty, and low.
The voice of a crone who died years ago.

We collided one night as the stars realigned,
two aspiring poets, immersed in our rhymes.

She’d started a poem some eons ago,
but her ‘nary and tarry’ made the going quite slow.

So, we bickered and tinkered with rhyme and verse.
We bellowed and brawled and then we rehearsed.

The poem came forth as I took center stage,
reading aloud as the audience engaged.

As the curtain closes, let me bring this back around
and acknowledge all dead poets for their rhythm, rhyme, and sound.

As for you dear reader, beware the hauntings of the night,
when the stars realign and dead poets reunite!

Post Script:  A link to our poem here, enjoy “The Path”.

Poetry ~ The Path

the path

Nary, Nary, I dare not tarry to find my own way home. 

Through the wood and bramble berry, I walk this path alone. 

Unto the stars, my eyes do linger

and to the moon, I stretch a finger

and call upon the goddess above

to shine her light on truth and love. 

High aloft a zephyr blows

and the goddess speaks of all she knows. 

“My darling, darling, daring girl

who dares to step beyond her world,

to truth and love each path does lead,

each path a lesson in which to heed. 

Walk in the knowing as life unfolds

each truth revealed, avows your soul. 

Your mortal life, confined to seasons,

live it fully, search not for reasons!

March on dear girl, through wood and berry. 

Trust the way, lest you tarry!”

Poetry By Sue