Louisiana Bay

A haunting story for a contest. I'm not usually too good at these.

I wasn't a believin' man
'Till that night in Louisiana
When the bayou country
Reeled me in
And made me believe
The unbelievable.

It wasn't that long ago,
In fact a night like tonight,
That I drove on the dead man's old road
And the swirling old fog
Sifted out of the bog
To wrap me in lingering cold

With a lugubrious groan
The car rattled and moaned
On the side of the nowhere-ways road
The car jerked to a stop
And the headlight's just popped
To leave me enveloped in cold

But I had to keep going
I had to get out
Couldn't stay on that black devilish road
So I leaped out in the dark
Chilled stiff, white, and stark
To walk through the merciless cold

The rain came down hard
Beating the dirt
The dirt of the lonely old road
And from the black of the night
Came the purest of lights
To offer relief from the bone cutting cold

I popped open the door
And the wheels start to go
Forward on dark lifeless road
Turned round in my seat
Ready to meet
The one who'd saved me from the cold

My heart started thrumming
For the seat and the wheel
Of the car driving down that old road
Weren't housing the soul
Who I thought'd controlled
The car rumbling off in the cold

The road started to curve
To the edge of my life
To the bubbling bayou led the road
So I said all my prayers
Squinched my eyes against tears
And readied for death's embrace cold

But just as we neared
The treacherous fear
In the narrow black fear-eating road
A ghostly stained hand
Reached into the van
Out of the broken white cold

It caressed the worn wheel
And turned it away
From the curve in the frightening road
And the car rolled on down
Past the shammblin' towns
That stood derelict in the cold

Over again the dirt curved to the side
Again the hand reached in that car
That was driving the old spooky road
And my heart almost stopped
As it started to rock
From wind birthed by terrible cold

Then almost too fast
To ever hope to catch
A face pressed in out of the dark
With the grin of white death
It's raw putrid breath
Stopped my heart beating
And I lay there stone cold

So now every night
That the fog comes around
You might see me pushin'
A car throughout town
Going to the road
To the old bayou road
Through the dark
Through the night
Just to wait in the cold
For some innocent person
To get stuck on that road
To relieve me of walking
That car through the cold

I wasn't a believin' man
'Till that night in Louisiana
On that old wretched road
Where the bayou reeled me in
And made me believe
The unbelievable.

Author's Note

This is based off a supposedly true story that I found online. That one has a much happier ending.

http://planet1051.com/a-louisiana-ghost-story/

Reviews

[J. Write]

I enjoyed this poem, particularly that you told a story within and I found myself moving on, line after line until the end. Your descriptions are really catchy and I found this easy to read, and the opening stanza was the same as the last, I liked that.

[M.M.I]

I like the feeling of this poem. It seems like there is a little bit of surrealism to it. I usually detest poetry that rhymes but this one was different. I liked this stanza
Then almost too fast
To ever hope to catch
A face pressed in out of the dark
With the grin of white death
It's raw putrid breath
Stopped my heart beating
And I lay there stone cold

[Becca Bishop]

Thanks for the review!!! I'm glad you read it even though you don't like rhyming poetry :P I feel all special now :D

[C.C. Marx]

I love the first stanza and how it was repeated at the end....great job :)

[Becca Bishop]

Thank you!! It's my lazy way of closing poems when I know that I'm done but I don't want to make the effort of coming up with a really corking last stanza. Ahhhh..it's such a relief to admit that :P Thanks for reading and reviewing!!!!

[C.C. Marx]

haha no problem i thought you were creative then now i have even more respect for your cleverness :)

[Dean]

Stories to poems...a good device, particularly when there is a message. The great thing about poetry is its ability to condense, and say it effectively. You have made a good start with this.

I might recommend eliminating the patois. Unless you keep it consistent throughout the poem, and have a particular reason for it, it doesn't ring true.

[Becca Bishop]

Thanks for the review!!! As for the patois (great word, by the way!! I had to go look it up :P) as soon as I'm less lazy I'll probably go through this one again and fix everything up. This was just one of those times when I didn't really care what went into the poem as long as it came out without sounding like a five-year-old wrote it. Thanks for the suggestion and I'm definitely going to improve on this poem when I get the chance. :D :D

[Sid]

I have no idea about the story but you have definitely succeeded in making this spooky and i really liked how every stanza ends with the word "cold"; that really personifies the feel of this poem. It all flows very naturally and doesn't feel forced, so great work, Becca!!

[Becca Bishop]

Thank you!!!! Eh, ghost stories :P I'm glad it scared you and, in between you and me, I scared myself while writing it last night. I had to sleep in our upstairs living room in a sleeping bag. it was embarrassing. Thanks for reading and commenting!!!!