The Legend Of Bob Weaver

It was  long ago in West Pittston, PA

When a fellow named Bob Weaver died, one night.

His spectre is seen there to this very day,

With his bier and his mourners all in plain sight.

His house it still stands those who live there are mute

Of the Hell they endure and its horrid truth.

His funeral re~enacted endlessly

For now and throughout all of eternity.

 

I’ve just found out about another poetry form, previously unknown to me,  Rispetto .  It’s a poem with eight lines of eleven syllables each. The rhyme scheme is ab ab cc dd.   Here’s my latest try at Imaginary Garden With Real Toads.  Today they want a ghost story.

7 thoughts on “The Legend Of Bob Weaver

  1. Kestril Trueseeker says:

    I’m intrigued by the idea of a death so shattering, that the ghost of the dearly departed seems to have gone on to a better place, but the mourners felt so devastated that their ghosts mourn him still.

    Liked by 1 person

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