Daniel Kemp's Blog: FREE AUDIOBOOK - Posts Tagged "ghosts"

I went to the city with the stinking cars
With the office blocks tall and their windows of bars
I walked through the bustle in the putrid air
My mind was gone my soul was bare.

Where a smile was once now only pain could be seen
Grey was the colour concreted over the green
Eyes bore down, a frown on every face
Ghosts of yesterday were gone without trace

Fight your way onwards fight your way down
Wear not your thorns but polish your crown
Ask me now where I’d rather be
Drowning in the city or dancing in the sea?

© 2017, Danny Kemp All rights reserved.

There are ghosts fast come approaching.
I saw them ducking through the dark.
Their eyes were hollow still and frightening.
The look on their face was grey and stark.

I heard a voice croaking and wheezing
As blood dripped from a severed head.
Whilst the body I saw kneeling
But I wasn’t sure if it was dead!

The ghosts gathered by the bells that were ringing.
Curses were uttered to the cloud covered sky.
A cauldron was lit and three ghosts started stirring.
But then the moon burst through and exposed the lie!

The milk was in the cupboard
The toaster was in the hall
The butter was in the garden shed
And as for the bread—I couldn’t recall.
I’d had an old person’s moment
When things go up the spout
I think I should stay at home tomorrow
As I get lost if I go out!

© 2019 Daniel Kemp All rights reserved

There are ghosts fast come approaching
I saw them ducking through the dark.
Their eyes were hollow still and frightening
The look on their face was grey and stark.

I heard a voice croaking and wheezing
As blood dripped from a severed head.
Whilst the body I saw kneeling
But I wasn’t sure if it was dead!

The ghosts gathered by the bells that were ringing.
Curses were uttered to the cloud-covered sky.
A cauldron was lit and three ghosts started stirring,
But then the moon burst through and exposed the lie.

The milk was in the cupboard.
The toaster was in the hall.
The butter was in the garden shed
And as for the bread—I couldn’t recall.

I’d had an old person’s moment
When things go up the spout.
I think I should stay at home today
As I’ll get lost if I go out..... Boom, Boom

© 2019 Daniel Kemp All rights reserved

The scribe scribbled on, long into the night.
His pencil dulled, as did the candlelight.
He shivered with cold and his fingers ached,
But he had a mission and it could not wait.

Life was his subject and this he knew well,
Now he had its story and wished it to tell.
His own had been lived to its utmost extent,
His mind was full with plenty of content.

He started at the beginning then drifted a mite.
He had re-edited and now the storyline was right.
He sat back and gazed at what he had wrote.
He felt a tear rise inside and he almost choked.

He had started off intending to write a happy tale,
But he had dwelt on too many occasions when all was not well.
With a sad heavy heart, he did rise.
Closing the cover to what now was his prize.

* * *

In the morning he rose and his book was not there.
He searched in a mood of despondency and fear.
Then he saw that things had changed,
Furniture had moved and been rearranged.

Where some sort of order existed before,
There were now cobwebs and dust-covered all but the door.
The entrance it seemed, had been used many times
The reason was in the corner, where sat many scribes.

He started to speak but they were all deaf,
He was saddened, disillusioned and bereft.
It was then that the notion entered his head,
His sanity was saved--he was simply dead.

© 2019, Daniel Kemp All rights reserved

T’was a ghostly crackle that crackled loud in the night.

T’was an eerie crackle that caused all the fright.

But when the chilling crackle ceased to crackle in the light,

That was the time when the blood-curdling crackle gave rise to their plight.


Searching they went down the crackles path

Then inside a darkened tunnel, they heard a crackling laugh.

The crackle appeared at its crackling worse

Some of our brave young trackers were carried away in a horse-drawn hearse.


Are the trackers finished in a crackles shrewish way?

Or will we see the trackers appear on another crackling day?

Meanwhile, if the crackle crackles down a street in your block

I suggest you stay inside and all your doors and windows you do lock.


Never mess with a crackle when its crackle has been on show.

If you venture into your garden please check in your hedgerow

If the crackle lands and crackles on your head,

Don’t worry unduly as shortly you’ll be dead.


But hark ye who live down in crackle land

There is more to the evil crackle I feel I can now expand

Crackles can die! Oh yes they can and what’s more— they do

Please, take a comfy seat while I explain it all to you.


Tie the crackle down whilst he doth sleep

Do this with a rope that’s fine, never use a rope that’s cheap.

Before he fully wakes force raw garlic down his throat

And believe me, for that treatment there is no antidote!


You can if you feel lucky roast the crackle over an open fire

While you are still hungry and the garlic is exciting all that you desire

Don’t breathe on your partner who may have desires of her own

And I suggest you don’t roast crackles whilst you are at home!

© 2023 Daniel Kemp All rights reserved