Twas the turning of the 19th century
And as this story goes
In the midst of cold and dreary skies
A November wind did blow.
A family affluent and comfortable
Were grieving a loved one lost
To illness grave she did succumb
Twas a terrible, terrible cost
For their Father pinched his pennies
And there after it was said
Had he paid for care to a Physican
She may have beaten death.
Seemingly not affected
By the loss of his Daughter dear
Repaid with silence by the rest of his brood
It had been exactly one year.
Came knocking was a photographer
In the Father’s feeble attempt
To secure a family portrait now
And no one was exempt.
Three on the couch were seated
And six there stood behind
From under his hood he counted ten
But six and three are nine.
Bewildered and much confounded
He emerged to count again
He numbered them all and they were nine
But the camera was counting ten.
Thinking it was only a shadow
The photo he did take
It took one month but the photographer returned
With the portrait of posterity’s sake.
There within the photo
Ghostly hands did rest
Upon the Father’s shoulders broad
The dead daughter stood in Jest.
Her color was grey and frightening
And skin from her bones did fall
Her hair was matted from the dirt in the grave
That did not hold her at all
Fear engulfed the family
And their hair stood straight on end.
Into the fire the portrait was thrown
Never to be seen again
But though the fire crackled
And flames around it did flash
All but the Father and Daughter reflection
Burned and turned to ash.
Now the story goes on of the father
Who sets drooling in a soft chair
And once every year on the day of her death
Her shadow, behind him appears.
WoodsonRoundtree
A contest entry
- Ghost Writes by BabyBun.
380 points, ended August 18, 2008, 28 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
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Great entry - thanks and best of luck.
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Thank you B.B
Was a fun contest...I enjoyed writing this one.
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AWESOME!!!
This is one of the best ghostly writings I have ever read. As I was reading it, it had a sing-song rhythm to it. The subject was wonderful and the rhyming was great. I could almost see the father in his later years as guilt must have taken over him. This is a job well done. I also think that because this is not a prewrite and the contest for this just started, you did a fantastic job in such a short time. Great writing dear poet. Good luck in the contest. Your friend in Poetry, Mysty Rain
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Thank you Mysty. This was a fun piece to pen. The words just seem to flow and I should have taken a bit more time with the rhyming, I think some spots sound forced but I wanted to get it in the contest as soon as possible. I am so glad you liked it...That means a lot to me. And thank you for referring to me as a poet... that means everything
Woodson Roundtree
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