Poem for Michelle

For my friend Michelle

Somewhere close my special friend

knows that I love her ‘till the end.

When we hug and when we greet,

she always makes me feel complete.

She makes my worries drift away,

as we have fun during the day.

Such a warm and caring heart,

why must we often be apart?

I pray that we can meet up soon,

whether dusk or dawn or noon,

come scorching sun or freezing snow,

maybe near a fires golden glow.

Wish I could make a day for you,

one that’s clean and bright and new.

I’d make a night time full of stars,

Far from roads or lights or cars.

As flowers show their brightest hue

we would be there, just us two.

On a hill we’d take a rest.

Your weary head upon my chest.

Hungry

Lonely and hungry, oh so weary,

worn and ragged, night time dreary.

Tears drip down from tired eyes,

soul too broken now to rise.

Tried to stay here, tried to love,

seems there’s none, just God above.

Drive a knife through soul and chest,

send me to famed eternal rest.

Try to rouse me, shake me so,

I will not wake, I’ve gone you know.

None to mourn the space I took,

not one would cast a second look.

Bones upon the ground that rot,
dust and mold that they begot.
Sun and rain will soon decay,
all trace now gone this nameless day.

Beautiful

You’re beautiful, you’re lovely,

let’s walk hand in hand.

You’re beautiful, you’re lovely,

Upon the warm sand.

You’re wonderful, you’re sexy,

let’s kiss and entwine,

You’re wonderful, you’re sexy,

you’ll see how we shine.

Hungry

Lonely and hungry, tired and weary,

worn and ragged, night time dreary.

Tears drip down from sullen eyes,

guess that should be no surprise.

Tried to stay here, tried to love,

seems there's no one, just God above.

Drive a knife through soul and chest,

send me to famed eternal rest.

Try to rouse me, shake me so,

I will not wake, I've gone you know.

None to mourn the space I took,

not one would cast a second look.

Why would none cry upon my grave?

A lonely soul that none could save.

No fancy words,no voice of shame,

just a stone and just a name.

My Ghost Poem

The Ghost

The gentle breeze,

blows past my knees

and urges me to go.

It says don't stay

but run away,

to some safe place I know.

Ghostly hands touch

and therefore such,

is the company I keep.

Should be in bed,

somewhere instead,

my eyes they dared to peep.

She came one night,

like pale moonlight,

breaching my chamber door.

The bolt still locked,

my head half cocked

my racing heart was saw.

Closer she came,

her dress like flame

but on her face a smile.

What did she plan,

for this poor man?

Sure not to talk a while?

Resigned to fate,

the hour late

and in the air a chill.

Was I a game?

Some nameless name?

And her with time to kill.

Her icy gaze

could last for days,

no weapon need she draw.

She could soon rest,

hand on my chest,

then I would be no more.

The air was thin,

came drifting in,

the noise of my cats wail.

Would I float high,

remembered by,

some old unopened mail.

Now here she stood

and run I should,

somehow I had to stare.

To my surprise,

she had kind eyes

and long white flowing hair.

“Most people die,

when I stand by,”

rang out her soothing voice.

“Let your heart calm,

I mean no harm

but you must make a choice.”

Sigh of relief

and disbelief,

she died by some foul deed.

To be a friend

or justice mend,

from earthly life she's freed.

Then soon I fell,

under her spell,

with her I was awestruck.

Heaven or hell,

may come as well,

perhaps just rotten luck.

By night she came,

through window frame,

that faced the great north wood.

The trees they groaned,

with snow the moaned,

as if they understood.

How I am vexed

and more perplexed,

at my predicament.

Can't call a friend,

at my wits end,

why ever was she sent?

How will I last?

I've fallen fast,

I judge that she's the same.

Sometimes to stay,

or go away,

to some place I can't name.

She knows my mind

but still is kind

and wont give up just yet.

Now in the end,

she is my friend

and not some spooky pet.

The snow did melt

and trees they felt,

the warming breath of Spring.

As flowers grow,

more ghosts I know

and stories that they bring.

I could have run,

toward the sun,

on some warm foreign shore.

Would not have met

and never set,

eyes on one I adore.

The trees now leaved,

dancing and heaved,

under the strong west gale.

Drifting through wood,

together stood,

the ghost and I both pale.