Apparition

 

The soft patter of rain,

tinkling sound as it flows down the drain.

Wind whistling softly as I try to sleep

but there is someone down by my feet.

A figure standing there,

barely visible through the moonlight glare

but I can sense the cold in the air,

electricity makes my hair stand on end.

 

Sweat drips down my face,

duvet held firmly in place.

She doesn't seem to move,

just a statue looming in my view,

in the corner of my room.

Near my feet which twitch in fear,

it's the icy eyes and their vicious leer.

The way her lips are missing

and the hole in her head

where her brain should be sitting.

 

I slowly reach for the switch

to the night light that beside my bed sits.

I flick the button.

Nothing.

A fuse must have blown,

or has the apparition turned the power off

to my home, I'm frozen and alone.

 

Instinctively I grab for my phone.

Who can I call about a ghost on the roam?

Input my pass code pin,

slide down the settings,

turn the torch full glare

and point it in the direction of fear.

What do I see?

A pile of clothes sitting there.

 

But was it just the clothes I saw?

Or was there something more.

I could swear I saw her face,

her wretched features

etched into my headspace.

The smell of electricity still lingers,

the thought of those creaking bony fingers

and on the floor damp footprints

where her feet should have been.

 

 

Thanks for reading

Peace, Love and Poetry.

Please check out my books at Amazon and Waterstones

https://tinyurl.com/KCHFITS

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 Kyle

Dreams of open roads

 

The baby throws her toy to the ground.

A cuddly bear, now collecting dirt and grime.

Wails and teary eyes as the wheels go round.

Mother absently flicking the pages

of her magazine.

Selling fantasies of celebrity.

Lost in a daydream

of open roads and places unseen,

where she isn't viewed as a burden

or a bad person,

she looks out of the windscreen.

 

Long haired, headphones on.

Guy at the back mouths along

with his favourite songs.

Like he is reciting silent poetry

and hoping no one can see.

He dreams of open roads.

Where he can be as loud

as he wants to be.

Let his voice be heard,

not just in his head,

but in the air instead.

 

Bingo, thinks the older lady.

Her day out, it gets so lonely,

she hasn't seen her friends lately.

She reminisces.

Remembers the old days in this city,

the kisses.

This used to be a dance hall,

now gone, no more curtain calls.

No more discotheques,

now flats, apartment complex.

She dreams of open roads,

where she can live at long last

not get stuck in the past.

 

Driver wishes he was anywhere else,

anywhere but here.

this dreary seat, this windscreen,

this smoky city and its charcoal sheen.

The same roads over and over,

on autopilot,

 he watches the road from his enclosure.

School children on their way home,

parents coming to meet them.

Afternoon drinkers in the local pub

In hours they will become passengers, 

joining his little club.

Bell rings again irritatingly,

a teen playing with his sanity.

Waking him from dreams of open roads,

where he isn't carrying a passenger load.

 

 

Thanks for reading

Peace, Love and Poetry

Kyle

The Day After Christmas

 

'Twas the day after Christmas

and all were weary,

bleary eyed and feeling dreary.

The ghosts didn't even say boo,

no rats scurried through

 

'Twas the day after the night before

presents had been opened

and a few drinks did pour.

Now many heads are sore

and the turkey is cold.

Christmas is now

officially getting old.

 

'Twas the day after Christmas.

Now the sale signs flash,

tills ringing quickly as prices are slashed.

Hoards beating down doors.

A zombie army looking

through the aisles of department stores

 

'Twas the day after Christmas

and the fairy lights glare

giving out headaches without any care.

Bins overflowing,

wrapping paper as far as the eye sees.

Still not snowing,

weathermen lie with too much ease.

Thanks for reading

Peace, Love and Poetry

Kyle

Check out my latest book at Amazon or Waterstones

https://tinyurl.com/KCHFITS