Welcome to My Poetry Site
Not because it’s Hallowe’en
If you’ve never felt it, of course it’s not
There, you’re absolutely right, there is
Nothing to worry about. The world is as
You say it is, and everything else is
If, on the other hand, you have felt it, then
We are in a different place, a place where
Not all is known and probably never will be.
Bore me not with your blindness, nor your
Tiresome words of reduction and self-pity,
They have no place in the reality of which
I speak. Be gone, take your empty words
And peddle them elsewhere.
I am talking about something left behind
From the past, an invisible something,
A mysterious something, a presence
Perhaps not buried with the body. A
Spiritual escapee, inspired to walk the
Earth as before, but this time with the
Distinct advantage of invisibility.
The undead are with us tonight,
Able to walk beside thee, make their
Presence felt, lurk silently in the dark,
Tug at your hair, pull at your arm, touch
Your cheek, hover nearby. Light or dark,
Always with you, impossible to escape
From, impossible to ignore. When the
Street is quiet and there is nothing there,
That’s the time to worry.
If there is goodwill, then naturally, we may
Assume there will also be ill-will. A force
Beyond our understanding ever-waiting to
Strike. Be under no illusion, such a force
Is real, and there are many who will confirm
Its existence. Where it comes from who
Knows ... a pushing force hard in your back
When in bed tells of its arrival, as too does
A relentless downward pressure when sat
In a chair perhaps in the dark, an ill-will that
Wants you out of the bed, out of the chair,
Out of the house.
Living shadows from another time, recent
Or distant, ghosts that will not rest, cannot
Rest, and in that spirit transport a remnant
Of their grave misfortune into our world. If
You haven’t felt them how can you know?
Disbelief isn’t enough, words don’t count,
Opinion even less so. Comment from those
Who want the world to be nothing more
Than a route to the grave are fully entitled
To their view, but on a night such as this,
Better that they keep it to themselves.
© Joseph G Dawson