ABPA - Australian Bush Poets Association

AT THE MIDNIGHT HOUR

At the midnight hour if
you listen carefully,
you may hear the secret sounds
when they're walking quietly.
Creeping, creeping, creeping,
they're awake but should be sleeping.

Is it cold where they are laid
or too lonely in that ground
that they walk along the floors
where the blood-warm lives are found.
Questing, questing, questing,
they're abroad but should be resting.

At the midnight hour if
you listen carefully,
you may hear the restless sounds
of them crying quietly.

very good Nev . . . and fittingly we did our innaugural after-dark ghost tour of our old Convent Building last night in Cooktown - which is now the James Cook Museum. 50 12yr old girls; my ears are still ringing from the screams of mass hysteria.

I enjoyed your poem. Goodonya mate

Marty

Thanks Marty.

I like it too Neville. It sets the moooood well.

Heather

Thanks Heather. I was trying to work out how to get it to " touch without ( complete ) understanding.

I like it as well - that's three of us - suitably 'spooky' for a midnight hour poem. My niece used to works as a security guard and often did Suncorp stadium. I know Bob's gramps is/was buried there and it is well known it was a graveyard that belongs to the little church (now) on the other side of the bypass road - she always said it was haunted and has had some funny experiences late at night walking the tunnels of the stadium.