Curious

who lives inside a cabin
a stone throw from this lake
surrounded by the tallest trees
that stretch towards the light

who wakes up in the morning
to scents of forest pine
then walks down to the water’s edge
to bathe in crystal clear

who gathers broken branches
and saws on dead wood felled
to build a welcome fire
when warmth gives way to cold

who climbs a well worn ladder
left propped against a wall
to reach the moss clad roofing
with its crooked chimney pot

and should I knock upon the door
what greeting would be mine
polite with gentle manners
hospitable and kind

or would the door creak open
to an empty hollow room
where cobwebs cling to corners
where a ghost lurks in the gloom

Reviews

[W. Barrett Munn]

This has such a nice rhythm to it. The last stanza offers a surprise and a smile.
There may have been more impact if the narrator one day did summon the courage to knock and open the door-then that final line might start, is that a ghost I see

Winston

[Chris Shaw]

Thank you Winston. I appreciate your thoughts. I might just have to pen another poem. Have a wonderful day.

Chris

[Akinlolu]

Curiousity leads nowhere without the courage to take some steps. Curiousity might have killed the cat but it's the burning fire that drives human progress. Sadly the majority of us never find the courage to go beyond our speculations. Thanks for this piece

[Chris Shaw]

Thank you for adding your thoughts. You are right. It takes courage to be an explorer. Most people are content to follow rather than take the lead:)

Chris

[Neville]

I like spooky ..
but I think anyone in their write mind would be tempted to try and find out for themselves who or what lives or lived there .. a gentle knock or a peek through a window would be hard to resist .. I am also reminded of Betsy Drury's cottage a not too far away walk from my own maternal grandmothers cottage @ Gullworthy in Devon .. Now she was a witch at least according to local legend .. Betsy Drury that is, not my grandmother .. Neville

[Chris Shaw]

I am with you Neville. I am more than curious. I would want answers. Answers bring clarity. I’m pleased to hear your grandmother wasn’t a witch. I have yet to meet a good one. I will have to check Gullworthy out when I am in Devon next. Many thanks for taking a peek at this poem.

Chris

[AYVID N]

A closed door can really stir our imagination regarding what may lie beyond it. Such beautiful musings, dear Chris. This read like an almost enchanted place regardless of humans or spirits living there. Your words delight and captivate. A wonderful read.

[Chris Shaw]

Thanks DIVYA, I chanced upon a photograph and it intrigued me. The muse liked it too. Cabins in the woods are always worth pondering on. All good wishes.

Chris

[AYVID N]

Yes, always intriguing. To me personally, a bit scary... I loved this poem.

Thank you for the good wishes, my friend ❤

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Oh I love ghost stories. love the haunting quality of this.
But oddly enough, my immediate thoughts as I was reading this were of Tickle Naked Pond and what I had heard that Liv Tyler once had a place on that lake.
Of course in the old days when I was there in the fifties, there was nothing but woods and farmland around it....but maybe the cabin is still there...and her presence yet felt even though she may no longer live there.
j.

[Chris Shaw]

What lovely thoughts you have here J. I know how much you like Tickle Naked Pond. I like where you drifted.

Chris

[willweb]

This was fun and the ending was unexpected but what made this fun. Here I was expecting to meet someone in the end but that did not happen, except for maybe meeting someone found in my own imagination. It reminds me of an old cabin a buddy of mine and myself found in the woods in the Brandywine Valley of Pennsylvania. It was an old battlefield area. Inside the cabin were cobwebs and shadows but also some old US saddlebags. This was also in the Valley Forge area so we assumed the bags were civil war era. It was similar to what you have described above, there was even a lake close by.

[Chris Shaw]

Thank you will. I enjoyed very much your share here. Pleased this poem allowed you to drift. Have s lovely day.

Chris

[Lorry]

I can hear Lloyd Grossman say "Who lives in a house like this" with his weird accent that us brits think of as a fake brit accent and who the hell knows what Americans think of, but he is from Massachusetts, so sorry Massachusetters... Massachusetits... Anyway,
Two ways of finding out are this...
1 - look at a map of the area and if it says "That be beasties here" I wouldn't bother trying to sell them girl scout cookies.
2 - place a woman, preferably with some of her bits out, in front of the house. Show her the crossroads, with one path leading to the front door and the other three to freedom. When she chose a path, listen for ominous music playing. If it does, run. But if it plays happy la de da music, go that way 😊

[Chris Shaw]

Ha. Thanks for the wide smile this morning Lorry. Fancy this piece conjuring up Lloyd Grossman;) Now be sure to have a happy sunshine day.

Chris