“I sense a presence in the room!
A presence coming from the tomb!
She’s saying something, it’s not clear.
She wants to contact someone here.”

Looking round the darkened room,
Their faces clear despite the gloom,
My séance partners looked at me,
Trembling, moaning, like they’d flee.

Incense rose in lazy plumes,
Candles burning, menace looms!
The table rises, shakes about.
A puff of wind and candles out!

One cold beer won’t be enough,
This séance is now getting rough!
Chains are clanking, falling down!
I’ll soon be getting out of town!

A former friend thought it would be
A good idea to see if we
Could contact someone who had died
And hear of life from spirit-side.

I haven’t slept a wink in weeks
And every time a floorboard creaks
I crack my skull upon the roof
Or maybe it’s a cloven hoof?

Stephen Tomkins
14 February 2015