Tonight is the nearest to Halloween that the WOW evening gets so it is officially the Halloween meeting. WOW is short for, 'World of Words' and roughly once per month there is a gathering
of people who get together on one of these 'Write Nights'. The evenings are the brainchild of the charming, enthusiastic and very bubbly Melody Bridges. Melody works her socks off to encourage anybody who fancies themselves with a pen in their hand or indeed a computer, to hand.
A little while ago I ran a few of my poems past Melody in an email message for (sort of) approval for me to read on this occasion. She responded with a short message asking if I had anything suitable for Halloween. This poem is a true story and to put you in the picture, it is my version of the favourite scary movie line................................
'I SEE DEAD PEOPLE'.
Witnesses to this haunting and mentioned in this story are: Bill Luckin, Rosie Luckin, Bernard Harris, myself, my husband Steve and my lovely daughter Jacqueline Rackham. The first three people named here are dead.
Jean
Quite early on in our relationship
Something less than a year in fact
We shared an interrelationship
That called for a degree of tact
My husband had not said a word
‘Til one night sitting side by
side
Stroking the cat while he purred
I said something I couldn’t hide
“Ever feel that we are not alone”?
I’d wanted to say it for a while
Over time the thought had grown
He turned to me with a knowing
smile
He puffed through his cheeks a bit
“I thought it was just me”, he
sighed
“You’ve seen her”? Eyebrows a-knit
“Thank heavens for that” he cried
“Where did you see her, and when”?
“At the top of the stairs at first”,
I said
“In the hall, and the front
bedroom then,
She doesn’t seem to know she is
dead”
We talked about her in total calm
No fear at all by either of us
felt
She did not want to do us any harm
Dazed as to what the past had
dealt
We went to visit the previous
owner
He called his wife to say we were
there
To see if she knew our mystery
loner
Hand to her mouth then the back of
her hair
We described the woman we had seen
Looks went back and forth at each
other
“I have to say that it sounds like
Jean”
That would be Bill’s poor dead
mother
Photo albums all brought to the
table
Silence fell as Rosie rummaged
through
This time it was we who were not
able
To hide feelings, it was the woman
we knew
We came home with an old
photograph
Of Jean dressed just as we saw her
Placed in a sturdy frame, her
epitaph
On its final position we did then concur
We said nothing to anybody else at
all
Then my daughter went up to bed one
night
Rushing back in, hands against the
wall
“A lady on the stairs gave me such
a fright”
The teenager looked at us both and
knew
That we knew, that much she
quickly saw
What she had seen was completely
true
Her outburst loud as she laid down
the law
We should have warned her, a ghost
was here
She slowly calmed down and asked
at last
“Why aren’t you scared, do you
have no fear”?
From one to the other her eyes
were cast
We knew not why Jean was still in
our home
And likewise she knew not why we
were
She didn’t speak but continued to
roam
We stopped in our tracks at a look
from her
A friend house-sat once when we
were away
And on our return he gave us a
warning
“There’s a ghost in this house,
don’t say nay,
Dressed in black as if she is in
mourning”
The only physical thing that ever
occurred
Just a little adjustment from time
to time
The photo was faced down without a
word
No special reason, no comment, no rhyme
She never bothered or worried us
at all
We lived there for years without
dread
But suddenly she went away as we
recall
Then we heard that her only son
was dead
She was waiting for him or so it
seemed
The thought I had firm set in my
mind
Her journey to heaven delayed she’d
deemed
Not to leave her beloved son
William behind
