Dancing Ghosts


 

I would sit on the stair by the first landing, 
The Grandfather clock looming ominously behind me 
Soon to befall a fate by crashing onto the tiled floor below. 
From my stair, I would watch the gold eagle 
Presiding over the entrance to the hall, 
Casting eerie and malevolent shadows, that 
In the gloom of winter mornings I would be scared. 
Often I would climb right to the top 
Up to the heavens, where hidden behind oak doors 
Lay the attics, filled with bygone lives. 
I would ride the mahogany banisters, 
A whistling trip, around bends and twists. 
If you went fast enough, you would slide 
Without stopping, along the straight bits to the 
Last perilous descent, to leap onto the tiled floor below. 
Once I fell, and cracked my head, lying there until 
Maman D’Orleans found me, and a doctor was called. 
Sometimes I would take the pillow slip from my bed 
And spin circles on the hall floor, until giddy and numb 
From the deep penetrating coldness of the tiles, 
And blue with cold, I’d race up the stairs again. 
But most of all I liked sitting on my stair - 
The watcher of the dancing ghosts 
That slipped and glided across the floor 
And beckoned me to join. 



Poetry by Elle The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 556 times
Written on 2010-05-09 at 14:24

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John Ashleigh The PoetBay support member heart!
This paints a brilliant picture. Thankyou for sharing...

Regards,
John.
2010-11-24


shells
I love this insight into your childhood happenings and imagination, but most of all I think I would have been there watching the dancing ghosts. As Nick says being alone as a child does you no harm.
2010-05-09


NicholasG
As a child I spent what seemed like an eternity watching shadows through a car window. What I saw as boredom then I can see as a magic place today. I believe being alone is good for the young mind.
Excellent writing.
Thank you,
Nick
2010-05-09