"BOO"

Poem by: BITSxOFxKINKY

Summary

Just a sweet poem for ghost lovers of all ages

Content

Submitted: February 15, 2012

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Content

Submitted: February 15, 2012

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BOO”

Hallo” said the ghost sat at the end of my bed,

I’m a ghost you know that means I am pretty much dead.”

Well she wasn’t really sitting, she sort of floated, drifting,

swaying slightly in the breeze of the window's opening.

Yes.” I reply, “You are a ghost, I can see that clearly.

My bedroom I can see through your translucent body.

The hovering above my bed covers is a dead give-away

and comprehensively analyses my diagnosis completely.

You are definitely a ghostly paranormal activity.”

May I ask what is your name,” using polite mannerism,

courtesy should be observed even to a phantom apparition.

My name is Bethany, I am one hundred years old,

I'm very pretty for a century old ghost I’ve been told.”

The spectre giggles and proceeds to dance in the air,

But most of the spirits I hang around with 'Out There'

are ten times my age. So I guess to them old spookies,

I’m bound to appear pretty to them ugly cronies.

Do you think I'm pretty.” Bethany leers close to my face.

Her breath reeks of death issued from a very cold place,

stench of boggy wet loam mixed together with rotten decay.

I try so hard not to waft her hauntingly smelly halitosis away.

I change the wave of my hand to an acknowledging gesture.

You have a hauntingly beautiful ghostly facial feature.

the moon shines through your head with such beauty astounding

and your body looks fantastic disappearing through the walling.

you are the prettiest ghost I have ever seen through.”

Bethany seemed happy with my sweet compliments,

as she floated weaving in and out of my table ornaments.

I felt a little nauseous when just her eyes and fingers appear,

blinking and waving from out of my private knicker drawer.

I watched as her form like toothpaste from a tube, it squeezes

and out of the keyhole Bethany’s body materializes.

Now I must go I am just a annual poltergeist visitor,

a bit like Santa Clause, but oh so much scarier.

I only come out to play on my dying demising eve,

I pop in, scream Boo then I quickly leave.”

BOO” filled the room and my visitor was gone,

back to the afterlife where Bethany belongs.

Until next year on her anniversary routine,

that allows her body once more to be seen.

 

By Tracey Owen

Copyright Halloween 2011

 


© Copyright 2016 BITSxOFxKINKY. All rights reserved.

Status: Finished

Genre: Poetry

Houses:

Details

Status: Finished

Genre: Poetry

Houses:

Summary

Just a sweet poem for ghost lovers of all ages
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