Category: Ghost Poems

In 1897, Elva Zona Heaster Shue was buried and alleged to have died of natural causes without an autopsy in Greenbrier County, West Virginia.

Her mother, Mary Jane Heaster, saw Elva in a dream, and Elva told her that Elva’s husband, Erasmus Stribbling Trout Shue had murdered her.

Mary Jane visited the local prosecutor, John Alfred Preston and told him about the dream.

Maybe because Preston had suspicions Erasmus had murdered a deceased ex-wife, whether or not he believed Mary, he ordered an autopsy of Elva’s body.

The autopsy revealed Elva had been strangled to death, her neck broken, her windpipe crushed and bruising around her neck.

A trial ensued, and Erasmus was found guilty of the murder of Elva Zona Heaster Shue, and she became known as the Greenbrier Ghost.

Bob Boyd

Holding cells in the castle where people were imprisoned
hundreds of years ago.
Metal holding rings prisoners were chained to.
Some were thrown into a pit and left to die there.
Others were hanged off the front of the building.
And spirits are alleged to swarm the castle.
Ghosts moan, chains rattle, people see ghosts in
the mirrors.
Things get thrown around in rooms.
Sheets tossed off beds people are sleeping in.
In one room, stones appear and drop to the floor.
St Briavels Castle is truly a strange and haunted place.

Bob Boyd

When Anne Boleyn failed to provide King Henry VIII king of England an heir to the throne, he ordered her beheading.

She begged King Henry to have her head cut off with a sword instead of the nasty business of an axe which usually took a few blows to get the gruesome job done.

When Anne’s head was severed with one strike from the sword on May 19, 1536, the executioner held her head aloft to show the crowd the eyes and lips in the severed head moved for a few frightening seconds.

Now every year on May 19th, Anne’s ghost appears at Blickling Hall in Norfolk, England holding her head in her hand seated in a carriage drawn by a headless horseman and headless horses.

Shortly after that the headless horseman and the headless horses disappear, and Anne roams the building and the grounds holding her head in her hands until the sun rises.

Bob Boyd

After Mark got away with murdering his wife
and her body was never found, his wife’s
vengeful spirit arose from the dead.

First she went after her husband’s girlfriend
that he had cheated on her with.

While the girlfriend was driving down route 66
during rush hour, she manifested inside
the woman’s mind cursing her.

The woman got so terrified she lost
control of her car and the car plunged off
the highway into a deep rocky ravine.

The car and the woman nosedived to
the bottom of the ravine and blew up
in flames, her husband’s girlfriend dead.

Then she manifested in her husband’s
dreams as a demon and taunted him
with that demon image during the day.

A week later, her husband gone crazy,
he bought a Glock G26 and blew what
remained of his mind and his sanity
to bits.

Bob Boyd

A rapist raped and murdered her at age 17, her life cut far too short.

But in the afterlife she became a powerful ghost, perhaps the power was a compensation for the horrible way she went out.

She psychically arranged events so that the man who raped and murdered her was caught and put to death for the many other young women he had raped and murdered.

Instead of going into the Light and basking in the bliss of the higher worlds, she decided to spend forever as an avenging ghost bringing justice for the many young women brutally taken out of this world.

Bob Boyd

Some ghosts are only imprints of events that
happened when they died.

No interactions.

No changes in their manifestations,
only like a movie scene
playing over and over and no more real
than the films.

They have passed on
from this earthly existence, but the
imprint remains.

Some ghosts make sounds, move objects,
speak, change room temperatures,
and touch you.

If this theory is true, it’s a mystery to me
why these disembodied beings remain
attached to the earth plane.

I have read they have unfinished business
and look after loved ones
like guardian ghosts.

The idea they don’t know how to get to the Light
and move on has been popularized
by Hollywood movies, as if they aren’t as smart
as other deceased people
or fear the Light for whatever reasons.

To the contrary, people who have had near death
experiences seem to pass from this earthly life
with ease.

But since they are not permanently
dead it’s hard to know if what they report is
completely accurate.

I see death being beyond ghosts and earthly
attachments.

I see death as the ultimate awakening
and when I go out,
I’ve no intention of remaining on
earth as a disembodied spirit.

And I welcome death
like a friend and not as a foe.

Bob Boyd

An eccentric, his name was Henry Cope.
He lived in northeast Hampshire, England
and had an obsession with the color green
and only ate green vegetables and fruits.

He dressed in green impeccably and his
apartment was painted green as well as
having a green sofa, green chairs,
green tables, a green bed and green curtains.

His two-wheeled carriage was also green
along with his riding gloves and whips.
Around his neck, he sported a green
cravat.

He was said to have lost his wits from too
much studying or from his rejection by
a beautiful woman he loved.

He is thought to have died in 1810 in
St Luke’s Hospital in Old Street London,
a hospital for “incurable pauper lunatics,”
though other theories about his death abound.

Now he is one of 12-15 ghosts alleged to
haunt Bramshill House in Hampshire, England.

Bob Boyd

My lovelorn friend Josh, always the adventurous type,
said he picked up a familiar ghost girl named Lydia
hitchhiking on High Point Road in Jamestown, NC,
who told him her real name was Annie, not Lydia.

I knew Josh was joking, embellishing an urban legend.
I let him continue to see where his fake story would go.
He said he had a one and only attraction to ghost girl Annie,
who had amazing dark eyes and was otherworldly beautiful.

Annie said the feeling was mutual, felt they were soulmates, gave him a kiss goodbye and a promised date the next night on High Point Road in Jamestown at 8 pm.

I saw Josh before he left, said good luck, bid him goodbye,
secretly followed him in my car to catch him in his charade,
the night dark, full-mooned, and foreboding.

I’m not usually superstitious or spooked by things, but while following Josh, I had a dreadful premonition something awful was going to happen.

Seconds later, Josh lost control of his car, skidded off the road, and smashed into a solid oak tree.

When I drove to the accident site, I spied Annie shimmering and ghostly white and Josh shimmering and ghostly white in her arms.

They kissed and then they vanished. I don’t know where to.

I rushed to Josh’s car, his body bloodied and smashed up, dead on High Point Road in Jamestown at 8 pm. And I heard his voice inside my head, “I’m okay and in love forever with Annie. Farewell friend.”

Now reader, know this; if some night you drive on High Point Road in Jamestown around 8 pm don’t be surprised if you see Josh and Annie thumbs out hitchhiking a ride.

Bob Boyd

Lucy was as fair a woman as a woman can be.
She passed from this life at only twenty three.
On the day of her marriage to Charles Porter,
She tripped on her wedding gown on a stairs.
She died when her head hit the bottom step.
Now she wanders day and night in her wedding gown,
As if still trying to get to her wedding that never happened.
I’ve tried to communicate with Lucy about going to the Light,
But she never seems to acknowledge my presence.
Perhaps Lucy is only like a film replaying day and night.

Bob Boyd

In case you are unfamiliar with this kind of apparition, Lucy is not in the scene described in the poem. To quote an expert in these matters. She is “residual energy, like a playback of the past, an echo of a past event.” Lucy has gone somewhere else in the afterlife, hopefully to a paradise.

Supposedly sometimes when a person dies from a horrible event or an accident, the scene of that death keeps playing back over and over. It’s like watching an actor in an old movie who isn’t there physically.

Another telling characteristic is Lucy doesn’t interact, just like an actor in a movie wouldn’t interact with you.

And as far as me trying to get Lucy to the Light, that’s pure fiction. Most of my poems are fictional, even first person ones, with some exceptions like a poem I wrote today: Boundaries of Love with a 25 Year Old Adorable Woman.

I was in a marriage with an abusive lout
He’d come home from taverns and
Beat the hell out of a black and blue me
When he slammed my head against
The bedroom wall and nearly killed me
I decided I had to stop his constant abuse
I couldn’t leave him. I had no place to go
And in my time, divorce was shameful
So as was the custom of the day with
Some unhappy and dissatisfied wives
I found my perfect solution in arsenic
I snuck it in that mean bastard’s ale
And I’m ashamed to say that I
Took great pleasure in his death
The score settled, justice done
I got away with killing him
And lived the rest of my life in peace
But now that I’m dead for centuries
I roam the earth endlessly, a fearful ghost
I dare not float into that tunnel of Light and
Surely be exiled to that horrifying place
As a murderess in afterlife disgrace
Burning forever in the fires of hell

Bob Boyd

I was like the Prince of Darkness in a preacher’s robe,
A traveling preacher in the northeast of America.
I did the Lord’s work seven days a week,
Turning lost souls into believers,
Saved them all for the glory of God.
I did the Devil’s work at other times,
stabbing many unwary women to death.

I brought hundreds of people to God,
Ended fifty women’s lives for the Devil.
I had no problem with the contradictory life.
My conscience didn’t care about the infamy.
I was a clever fiend, never got caught,
And I savored all those sweet kills,
Starting with neighbors’ pets as a child.

I died of a massive heart attack in 1873,
Which was ironic, heartless as I was.

When I knocked on heaven’s door
I thought God would forgive my murderous sins
Because of all those lost souls I saved for him.
And after all, I reasoned, he had made
Me into the half holy half unholy thing,
Preacher monster killer that I was.

But nobody answered heaven’s door
Even though disembodied I’d changed.
I lost my compulsion to sinfully kill.
The preacher in me took completely over.
And even though I worked for Satan some,
I didn’t want to go to his world of torments.

So in my ghostly form I roam the world
From church to church praying and confessing
With the hope of enough sincere atonement
Heaven’s door will eventually open to me.

Bob Boyd

he was born on the bad side of town
where trouble knocked at every door
he committed his first crime at age 5
stole a bag of candy from a store
to his mother it was an innocent thing
but in his life it was the beginning
of a career of theft and criminality
that progressed into killing people
and becoming a notorious hitman
in the end he had 30 dead bodies
under his expansive hitman belt
ghosts that came back to haunt him
in his final horrifying hell-bound days

Bob Boyd

he used to listen to ghosts talking
with white noise on spirit boxes
he traveled to haunted locations
in small towns and big cities
eventually he started hearing
the ghost talking all the time
without using the technology
thy talked inside his head
eventually the talking began
to take possession of his mind
and he heard the ghosts telling
him to become one of them
he jumped off a bridge and did
now others hear him talking
with white noise on spirit boxes

bob boyd

what causes ghosts?
are they just rewinds
of images of people
who die accidental
or horrible deaths?

are they dead people
who for unknown
reasons can’t find
their way
to the Light?

and if they are real,
why do some people
become ghosts
and not others?

maybe as some claim
they’re just
imaginary effects
of electrical waves.

whatever the cause,
real or unreal,
no way I’d ever
spend an eerie
night in a
haunted house.

bob boyd

His wife’s mother’s ghost haunted their house.
It would have been okay
if he had gotten along with her,
but when she was alive she always
tried to break up him and his wife.

She never liked him for unknown reasons,
maybe she just didn’t like his looks,
even though he was a nice looking guy
and had a pleasant personality.

He always thought she felt he just
married her daughter for their money.
In the end, her mother’s spirit seemed to
possess his wife and turned her against him.
She became so disagreeable and hateful
that he could no longer be with her.

After he left his wife, she became her
sweet self once again, but no way
could he go back with her and face her
dead mother’s otherworldly spite.

Bob Boyd