The Hanging Tree
A Haunted Place Spirits Cry and wail
The Hanging Tree
Under the boughs of a solemn tree,
They strung him up for all to see.
A tale of darkness, a shadowed plight,
In the chill of dawn, before the light.
"Let me live," he begged, his voice a plea,
"I'll mend my ways, just set me free."
Yet fate was cruel, justice blind,
As loved ones gathered, hearts confined.
Mothers wept, fathers stood tall,
Brothers grieved, recalling it all.
For every wrong, there’s pain to bear,
A life once lost, shrouded in despair.
In the dawning hour, he faced the crowd,
His heart a storm, his spirit loud.
And so he swung, a bitter end,
A warning tale time can't amend.
Now he haunts the hanging tree,
His ghost crying, "Please set me free."
Like all others hung there before,
Death is final; death has no door.
About the Creator
Marie381Uk
I've been writing poetry since the age of fourteen. With pen in hand, I wander through realms unseen. The pen holds power; ink reveals hidden thoughts. A poet may speak truth or weave a tale. You decide. Let pen and ink capture your mind❤️
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Comments (2)
There seems to be a lot to think about in this one in dealing with this idea.
The sorrow of the loved ones and the ghost's plea for freedom adds a deep, tragic layer. Great job capturing such a heavy atmosphere!