By Felicia Dorothea Hemans
See’st thou yon gray gleaming hall,
Where the deep elm-shadows fall?
Voices that have left the earth
…
Where the deep elm-shadows fall?
Voices that have left the earth
…
Explore Poems: Ghosts & the Supernatural
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- By William Butler YeatsMidnight has come and the great Christ Church bellAnd many a lesser bell sound through the room;And …
- By William Hughes MearnsYesterday, upon the stair,
I met a man who wasn't there
He wasn't there again today
I wish, I wish he'd… - By Adam O. Davis1.
If a house is haunted like a radio
is haunted If a body is a radio
of blood If a body of ghosts
hums like blood over a valley of
bone If blood is a... - By Matthew ZapruderI think there was a movie once
where Frankenstein fell in love with a vampire.
A small mummy at first interfered
but later provided the requisite necessary
clarifications. He can only
meet you at night. Her face
is scarred in a permanent expression
of doom, but her... - By Shanta LeeMama birthed me, Papa sold me in the land of weeping willows
Traces of sin trail miles across skin, I go by Never Forget
My body’s evidence of daddy’s pestilence spread across the land
His sin traces my skin, a path never forgotten
Nameless,... - By Adam O. DavisOne nick.
Two nick-
els. Three lic-
orice twists before
bedtime. Four hours
of a leaky faucet. Five times
five times now. Six spoons I swallow.
Seven scratches upon the sun. Eight elms
invisible to the eye. Nine knots in a blonde braid.
Ten attics in this house. In... - By Unknownþat it apertly was apayed for profite þat he feld,
and [wrouȝt] buxumly by þe bestes wille in wise as it couþe.
[1]
Hit bifel in þat forest, þere [fa]st byside,
þer woned a wel old cherl þat was a couherde,
þat fele winteres in... - By Sylvia PlathMy father kept a speckled conch
By two bronze bookends of ships in sail,
And as I listened its cold teeth seethed
With voices of that ambiguous sea
Old Böcklin missed, who held a shell
To hear the sea he could not hear.
What the seashell... - By Marlanda DekineGrandma Thelma told me if I slept on my back
a hag would ride me and I’d never return, so I trained
my body to sleep on my stomach. Even now,
if I wake up cold, I open my mouth
and repeat the 23rd... - By Jennifer WongOn certain nights they come back,
ghost story fragments lodged in my head
from midnight taxi rides. Almost always
a woman in a red dress, hollow laughter
and a ball bouncing in a playground,
lost souls crossing the misty river where Meng
offers them soup to... - By L. M. RiveraWhen the home is no more
When the mother's negative light goes also
When solitude rips the door from frame
When the transitory moves into the familial
Then: I often think of the drink, the notes, the contented, and badly drawn cartographies
On my bare... - By Marcus Wickerit paralyzes their country mercy i will teach them how to be
... - By Sy HoahwahMy ancestors were not diligent
and so they lived beside the fort
that's neither on the maps of Heaven,
Nor of Hell.
In these lands, there is no difference
between a star and thrown car keys.
Chicken nuggets hatch from the eggs of eagles.
I grow dirty... - By Rachel McKibbensWhen my daughter rushes into the living room,
cheeks flushed from her wicked siblings who spring from closets
and unlit hallways, all the fear in the world blotched upon her
small round face, I pretend sometimes that her body is being driven by... - By Sumita Chakraborty
- By Anne SextonI have gone out, a possessed witch,
haunting the black air, braver at night;
dreaming evil, I have done my hitch
over the plain houses, light by light:
lonely thing, twelve-fingered, out of mind.
A woman like that is not a woman, quite.
I have been... - By John KinsellaI have gorged on a glorious dose of poison.—Triple blessings
on the advice that was proffered!—My guts on fire. Future shock
distorts and contorts and hurls me into the dirt. Choking and parched
I can’t call out. This hell, this eternal torment. Watch... - By Su ChoShe snaps the heads
off dried anchovies,
their eyes a black
ant hill burying my toes.
I’m breaking doenjang
with the flat head
of a metal spoon,
stirring the boomerang
silver bodies she drops.
Whenever she feels
like showing up, we cook
together. She opens
the tofu, smashes
the watery curd with her
foot,... - By Jose Hernandez DiazA jaguar sat in a tree. It was midsummer. The sun was shining fiercely. The jaguar was a golden color with plenty of brown spots. Then the ghost of Emiliano Zapata walked by. He was in full uniform,...