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Warnings From The Dead Who Do Not Wish Us Well On Halloween

On Partridge Island,


On Halloween,


This Lighthouse keeper


And his cat/kitten,


Black as the night


With one white mitten,


Named

(would you guess it}


Paw,


Will stay put,


Except to check the Light.


For the night is neither


Calm nor inviting.


To humans

And cat/kittens.


But the Dead,


The Souls,


The restless Spirits.


Oh,


You can feel their oppression,


From one end


Of the Island


To the other.


And the revolving Light,


From atop


Its solid Tower,


Gives them no peace.


They want to come back.


They want things as they were.


These are the poor


Spirits


Who left,


Unfulfilled.


I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2021 / (A lot of stuff have I seen / A lot of stuff to report}

DE BA. UEL

Ghost Stories Wait For Me To Walk Past

ghost,ghost stories,book,Halloween,portent,spirits,death,dead,library,lend,authors,history,spooks,

Yesterday, on the penultimate day before All Hallows, I was out for my evening walk k, going at dusk to take in the Halloween decorations. And, many there were. The most pleasing (even more than the wedding dress hanging from a tree as if a Ghost)was a pair of skull chandeliers, gracing either side of a Bay window in a brick house. It’s true, I might not have entered.

On my return circuit, I passed one of those small wooden frame libraries which have sprung up in may cities. Looking like a small house, often with a glass pane door, there are usually three shelves which hold books. I’d guess usually 100 – 150 books. The books are donated by anyone who wants to give their books a second chance, and a person can take from them what they want. But last night, there it swung. I went to close and latch it, but thought I’d look in at the books. And there, facing out instead of spine to, was:

The Literary Ghost: Great Contemporary Ghost Stories

edited by Larry Dark, Other Atlantic Monthly Press 1991. The book blurb states:“…28 subtly disturbing, enigmatic modern tales are distinguished by global settings, some memorable ghostly narrators and the depiction of various religious beliefs about the spirit world:” Among the authors are Muriel Spark, Isaac Bashevis Singer, Joyce Carol Oates,Graham Greene, Robertson Davies and Nadine Gordimer

I do like to think I can take a hint.

I closed and latched the door, and brought the book home.

The Gathering Storm Of Souls Wait For Halloween On Partridge Island

Paw, the Cat/Kitten,


Black as Night itself,


With one white mitten,


Is not leaving my side

And


I am glad of it.


Paw knows far better,


And sees far further,


Than me,


The gathering of spirits,


The quarrelsome ghosts,


Pushing past the boundaries


Of the Other Side


In their desire to

Reunite
With life on This Side,

Quite frankly,

I am going to follow Paw,


On this penultimate night.


Before All Hallow’s Night,


All Souls Night,


Halloween,


And hope that he,


Kitten or not,


Is going to


Stay close


To Home.


I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2021 / (A lot of stuff have I seen / A lot of stuff to report}

A Jack-o’-Lantern Prepares The Way For Halloween On Partridge Island

I have made a lean-to

For the Halloween Pumpkin.

It faces all incoming

And outgoing

Ships.

I check my jack-o’-lantern

On the Hour

From eight after dark,


When it’s lit,

To the first hour


Of the next day.


When it is extinguished.

It is alight for


A Trinity of Nights.

It offers the Souls


Warmth,


And a place to cluster,


Away from the Lighthouse.

Sometimes their shadows

Dim the flame.

Sometimes those incoming


And outgoing


Ships


Veer their course,

Away from Partridge Island.

Sometimes I don’t make


My hourly check.

For the Dead


At this time of year


Can be

None too friendly.


I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2021 / A lot of stuff have I seen / A lot of stuff to report}

Halloween Approaches Partridge Island and the Dead Are Already Knock Knock Knocking At The Door

Paw, the cat/kitten,

Black as the dark night


With one white mitten,


Is look look looking

Over his shoulder,


To stare,

And stare.


There are hints of


The approaching ghosts,


Preparing their visit


To this world


From the Other,


On All Hallows Eve.

Paw, the cat/kitten,


Sees that they are


Moving ever closer,


And he doesn’t know


Whether to


Welcome them


Or not.


(I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2021 / A lot of stuff have I seen / A lot of stuff to report}

True Ghost Story – A Close Encounter of the Sixth Kind – For Halloween

A true story for All Hallows’ Eve, although it did not happen on Halloween.


And, I steal my title from the list of types of encounters with UFOs and Aliens from Space, where actual physical encounters result in injury or death. Admittedly, I experienced nothing but fright, but the touch is without question

.
  I was visiting the Bay of Fundy island of Grand Manan.

 I had booked a room in a bed and breakfast and arrived mid-evening. I went elsewhere for a meal, but did meet the owners, and noted there were a couple of others staying there. I returned around eleven, chatted to the owners and one guest, then went up to bed.

The room was top of the stairs and across a landing. Comfortably rustic with a radio. The bed was fine and I was not long getting to sleep.

  In the dead of the dark (no street lights here) I was awakened by the touch of hands on me. I was sleeping on my left side. One hand was over my groin and the other on my chest. There was also the weight of a body next to me and the pressure of an arm across my side.

I was initially surprised and confused but not frightened. Time probably stretched but it seems to me I lay like this for ten or fifteen seconds. Then, the very first coherent thought which came to me was that someone laying behind me could not have both arms over my body. There could not be two hands placed on the front of my body.

  I got out of bed very quickly and did indeed experience fear. I turned on the overhead light but saw nothing. I heard nothing. The temperature was not unusual. I was frightened and certainly uncomfortable, but I can’t say that that aura was present.

I went to the bathroom across the landing. The house was silent.

I returned to the bedroom, thinking both of leaving the light on and turning on the radio. But then I thought that that was just giving into fear, and might encourage the fear instead of ease it, so I did neither. I did not seem to take very long to get to sleep.  

The next morning I went downstairs for breakfast. I heard the owner talking to two other guests as I approached the kitchen.

Just as I entered she interrupted her conversation and turned to me. She said: “Let’s ask him. He’s the one sleeping in the haunted room.”  

I don’t know if they had been talking about ghosts or if something else had happened in the night. I relayed my experience and the owner then told the story of the house.

As with many buildings on the island it had been a farm house, with the owners also fishing. It was a century or more old and left to a daughter. When she herself got old and could not look after it, her family forced her to leave, something she fought against.

The present owners then bought the building and started taking in guests. However, whenever they attempted renovations, they were discouraged by having paint cans overturned, new wallpaper peeled from the wall, ladders moved, hammers and such hidden.

  The new owners’ daughter lived next door, and looked after the house when her parents went away (trips to Florida in the winter). She inevitably had to come over to the house and close doors, turn off lights, put furniture back in place.  

The old woman who was forced to leave had the reputation of being a mean and unpleasant person. I don’t know if she was taking a liking to me or not.

When The Ghosts Escape

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When ghosts escape
Where
(quite frankly)
Do they go?
 
A question that is
(quite frankly)
Only slightly more
Problematic
Than
Where do they
Come from?
 
It’s a grave question
Worthy to be
Unearthed.
 
And how,
When the ghosts
Escape,
Do we
Find them?
 
Where do we look?
 
How will we see
What we can’t see?
 
For ghosts,
Once they escape,
Like to sneak up
Behind you
&
Look over your shoulder.
 
They want to see
What you are doing.
 
They want to
Make comments.
 
They want to go
“BOO!”
And scare
The living shit
Outta you.
 
Because
(let’s face it)
That’s just
The way
Ghosts
Are.

The Ghost Hunts The Living For Revenge

woman's ghost
The Ghost came calling

(As ghosts are wont to do)

When they go to wander,

In those places,

They used to play.

The Ghost wanted

(As ghosts are wont to do)

When all full of revenge,
To pull the living

To the Other side.

The Ghost hated

(As ghosts are wont to do)

Those who had been mean,

And hateful, and cruel,

And so so selfish.

The Ghost tugged

(As ghosts are wont to do)

With bony hands and fingers,

Hooked into both

Memory and conscience.

The Ghost succeeded

(As ghosts are wont to do)

Tenfold times ten again,

Turning troubled dream

Into shrieking nightmare.

The Ghost retreated

(As ghosts are wont to do)

At the blush of dawn.

Slipped behind the drape,

Waiting ever patiently.

 

{image} https://media4.s-nbcnews.com/i/newscms/2016_43/1169631/ghost-woman-tease-today-161026_a0e92f89834bf99d7763b514b91aa60d.jpg

Joe-the-Knife is Dead

beans-of-erinyes
[The Three Erinyes]
Dead
(I am informed)
 
As a door nail.
 
His quietus made.
 
Turned to ashes.
 
Tough food for worms.
 
Done as dinner.
 
 
Yet I murmur:
 
 
“Poe-et-ic justice”
 
“Couldn’t have happened to a …”
 
“Bon Voyage!”
 
“Write if you get work”
 
“Karma is a bitch”
 
“The Three Erinyes
Tisiphone
Megaera
Alecto
All descended.”
 
“Justice prevailed”
 
“The Devil takes his own”
 
But
 
They do say
 
‘If you can’t say anything nice…”
 
 
[And I can’t
‘Cause I knew the son-of-a-bitch
Only too, too well
And
Anyway
Saying more would
Just be
Overkill]
So
… sure
I’ll refrain
 
And keep
My thoughts
To myself.

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