Ghost Hunt – A Poem

I’m having some fun this week writing poetry and blending this with one of my other passions, ghost hunting. Yes, ghost hunting, but see if you can figure out what kind of ghost I’m hunting.

I know, Halloween has passed, but ghost hunting is alive and well through the month of November.

I hope that my friends and fellow ghost hunters have a safe and bless Thanksgiving!

Ghost Hunt

Colors bleed, blanketing

A beautiful, wilting forest.

I peer through skeletons,

Seeing deeper than before,

Secrets uncovered.

Unseen forces swirl,

Carrying away the dead.

Bare branches quiver, afraid,

Ashamed of their nakedness.

Startling, eery sounds

Wail and creak in the distance,

Giving my heart pause.

The selfish, sinister Cold

Grips me with

His bone-chilling strength.

Shhhhh. What is that

Tiptoeing on tiny hooves?

An apparition of sorts.

The creature rises from the ground.

Steeples point to sky,

Hovering above gray

And nervous thoughts.

Deathly daggers they are,

Penetrating mind and soul.

The dark eyes threaten a spell.

My chest contains the thuds.

Time sputters and stumbles.

The ghost turns slightly,

Morphing back into woods.

Poof.

Vanished.

Waiting, listening, watching.

Come back.

Please, come back.

Haunt me one more time