Poetry by Jeff Green


The ghost

by cricketjeff on June 13, 2008.  © Jeff Green, All rights reserved

He didn’t remember dying, which was odd
But dying he certainly did ’cause he’s a ghost
One morning he woke up dead, the silly sod,
And bald, I don’t know which surprised him most.

Now haunting is the way he spends his days
Hanging around the house and saying boo
Annoying all of us in many ways
And finding lots of mischief he can do

Maybe its not all fun so thin and white
You stumble through walls and can’t lie down in bed
Visible clearly just at dead of night
With half an axehead buried on your head

  Pluses I’d mention there are two or three
  He doesn’t have to work like you and me


Author notes

Well it’s sort of a sonnet I suppose.