December 12th 2014
This post and the next are two published pieces - based on spooky experiences
at Great Barr Hall - written by an absolutely lovely gentleman, the
Willenhall based solicitor, Ian Henery.
Ian first contacted us,
out of the blue, following our recent article in the Walsall
Advertiser, just after Halloween, and - by all intent and purpose -
would appear to have kindly 'adopted' the West Mids Ghost Club, given
all of the kindness and help - absolutely unmerited, we hasten to add - that he has generously
bestowed on us since that first contact!!
We have to say that no other
person has ever gone to the lengths to generally 'help the club out' as
Ian has recently done...... something that we simply can't thank him
enough for!!
With regards to the poems, Ian says:
"The last time I went there was with a friend at night time. We had both been working with a firm of Architects. On our way back to the car park we heard a bell ringing out from the Hall itself as if a matron was ringing the bell to announce that visiting time was over. It was Sunday evening approx. 8.30pm. We were crossing the little bridge that led back up the road. There was no one else about and the geography of the place is a bowl amongst low wooded hills. The night was still and quiet but that bell sure rang out from the Hall.
There was then the unmistakable sound of feet following us off the bridge (as if escorting us off the premises) and when we turned round - nothing. The footsteps were right behind us. We decided not to challenge whoever or whatever it was and to simply leave.
We saw nothing ethereal. We felt nothing spooky - but we both heard a bell and footsteps behind us. There was no guard on duty that night".
Girl on the Stepping Stones
(Great Barr Hall)
A pale winter light filled December sky,
Mature trees surround banks of the twin lakes
On Great Barr Hall Park, where my heart breaks.
I hear your laughter, caught upon my sigh,
See once again the twinkle of your brown eyes
And then remember you have been a dream,
A whispered breath, a leaf upon a stream,
Where winged hopes took flight and learned to fly.
I see you now, dancing on stepping stones
Between the two lakes, over the waterfall,
Moorings near for fishing at Great Barr Hall.
A ghostly chill and wind begins to moan,
Daylight fades, frost comes, the earth like cold bone.
A fantasy at the end of the year,
A disillusioned man with unseen tears,
Fallen far from grace, bereft and alone.
2nd January 2014, Ian Henery www.ianhenerypoet.com
"The last time I went there was with a friend at night time. We had both been working with a firm of Architects. On our way back to the car park we heard a bell ringing out from the Hall itself as if a matron was ringing the bell to announce that visiting time was over. It was Sunday evening approx. 8.30pm. We were crossing the little bridge that led back up the road. There was no one else about and the geography of the place is a bowl amongst low wooded hills. The night was still and quiet but that bell sure rang out from the Hall.
There was then the unmistakable sound of feet following us off the bridge (as if escorting us off the premises) and when we turned round - nothing. The footsteps were right behind us. We decided not to challenge whoever or whatever it was and to simply leave.
We saw nothing ethereal. We felt nothing spooky - but we both heard a bell and footsteps behind us. There was no guard on duty that night".
Girl on the Stepping Stones
(Great Barr Hall)
A pale winter light filled December sky,
Mature trees surround banks of the twin lakes
On Great Barr Hall Park, where my heart breaks.
I hear your laughter, caught upon my sigh,
See once again the twinkle of your brown eyes
And then remember you have been a dream,
A whispered breath, a leaf upon a stream,
Where winged hopes took flight and learned to fly.
I see you now, dancing on stepping stones
Between the two lakes, over the waterfall,
Moorings near for fishing at Great Barr Hall.
A ghostly chill and wind begins to moan,
Daylight fades, frost comes, the earth like cold bone.
A fantasy at the end of the year,
A disillusioned man with unseen tears,
Fallen far from grace, bereft and alone.
2nd January 2014, Ian Henery www.ianhenerypoet.com
No comments:
Post a Comment