Orbs and lights constantly appear.
Glittering particles in the air.
UFOs in night skies.
Shadow people and aliens.
Bigfoot and even stranger cryptids.
Giant creatures reported too.
Supposedly even a dinosaur sighting
that left large reptilian tracks on the farm.
Three toed tracks found as well.
Poltergeist activity, objects moving
through the air.
Invisible entities everywhere.
Some detected with advanced electronic equipment.
Portals, vortexes, interdimensional openings
and hot spots – gateways to good and nasty beings.
Ghosts and sometimes a coolness in the air as well.
Many strange mysterious experiences reported,
the high strangeness of Bradshaw Farm.

Bob Boyd

Hunting ghosts in an old abandoned hotel,
Got the feeling things weren’t going to go well.

When my partner Jimmy Moore opened a door,
He said he saw a ghost crawling on the floor.

He walked into the room and I heard him yell.
He sounded as if he’d been pulled into hell.

I searched the room and found not a trace of Jim
And had no idea of what had happened to him.

Then I saw something scary next to a wall.
Jimmy had become a ghost starting to crawl.

I ran the hell out of that eerie hotel,
Got sick in my head that night, never got well.

The police did a search and never found Jim
But I know something dark and evil got him.

If you’re crazy or brave enough to walk through Bachelor’s Grove Cemetery at night,
you get the eerie feeling you’re not supposed to be there.

It’s deep in the forest and the road to it is closed off, and when you cross the threshold into it,
you feel like you’re in a strange forbidden world, and the spirits are restless there.

An old farmhouse that’s like a mirage might materialize momentarily before you, and you might see the ghosts of gangland hits that allegedly were dumped in a deep algae-covered pond there.

And maybe you’ll see the lighted orbs that come floating out at night, blue, red, white, orange and all colors and sizes.

Some people think they are spirits, but nobody really knows what they are for sure.

Maybe there’s a rational explanation for these orbs that would debunk the paranormal claims, but whatever the case, at least they’re not malevolent and won’t try to possess you — far as I know.

But if you go there, cross your fingers, just in case they might, to seek some luck and be armed with the holy cross.

Bob Boyd

Also called Stamps Cemetery located in
the mountains of East Tennessee.

Some graves new, many old
and decaying,
made of sandstone.

Inverted stars on a few graves,
mistaken for pentagrams,
which is why the cemetery is
wrongly thought to have
evil witches buried in it.

Some old Tent stone graves,
two long thin slabs propped up
against two triangular caps
at the ends, often with
headstones – maybe to protect
corpses from animals. Maybe
just tradition.

Many people named Stamps
buried there, one named
Stanford Stamps born in 1811,
died in 1895, age 84.

No witches, only about 80
regular people buried there.

Many tombstones from the 1800s.
More are new.

No ghosts, maybe the Stamps
Cemetery is too boring for them,
or the good religious mountain
people all went to heaven
instead of hanging around dead.

Some old graves had flowers
in front of them. Many had coins
on the tops of the tombstones.

Perhaps the coins were symbols
of good luck in the afterlife.

No one seems to mess with the
coins, perhaps for fear
of being cursed or
out of profound respect
for the dead.

The cemetery is serene
with only the sounds of
birds chirping in the background.
Perhaps the birds are singing
sweet dirges for the dead.

Got a good peaceful feeling
seeing that cemetery on YouTube,
wouldn’t mind being buried in a
peaceful cemetery like that
when I die.

Bob Boyd

In Louisiana where he lived, he drove around one night
like a madman in his old Honda trying to forget his ex

who despite being engaged to him and planning
on marrying him

left him for his friend who was going to be
his best man at their wedding.

He drove on highways and byways all over Louisiana,
but still couldn’t get her out of his mind.

The break up, the end of the engagement
and the marriage

were too big a heartache for him and
when the police raced after him for speeding

he lost control of his mind and became
even crazier and more reckless.

Miraculously, he escaped from the police,
and seemed to have vanished from this earth.

He was never found, but there’s a crying male ghost
that appears at the shores of Lake Pontchartrain,

and there might be an old Honda buried in
the water there.

Bob Boyd

A sinister little boy
dancing around
gravestones asks
visitors to stay and
play with him.

A woman in white
hovers above
the gravestones
but says nothing.

A man in dark
19th century
clothes named
Ephraim with dark
sockets in place
of eyes, said to
yell at women
and scare them
away.

What to make
of these ghosts
I cannot say.

But many claim
to have seen them.

And maybe these
spirits are real,
but the bigger
question is if
they are real,
why are they
still on earth
and not
elsewhere
in the afterlife?

Bob Boyd

Wouldn’t want to be a ghost hunter
if ghosts are real

Imagine if they are real and you
encountered one

and it decided to follow you home
to haunt and terrify you

and you couldn’t protect yourself
from what you could not strike or stop

Imagine if it pervaded your dreams
and every part of your life

as if it had totally possessed you
like a demon from hell

Unless you were made of sterner stuff
that haunting possession

might drive you full blown crazy

And there’s this saying when you go
looking for the paranormal
the paranormal comes looking for you

But when you see ghost hunters
on TV none of them seem to have
this happen to them

But that’s TV and you can’t always
believe what you see on TV

Whatever the case ghost hunting
would never be for me

Bob Boyd

You see her in a hotel room
You freak out
Your body freezes
Goose bumps rise
You’re filled with dread
But Amanda isn’t there
She’s not conscious
And she cannot interact
She’s just an imprint
A loop that
Plays a moment
Over and over
She died from
A dramatic event
And Amanda
Moved on
March of 1966

Bob Boyd

In 1897, Elva Zona Heaster Shue was buried and alleged to have died of natural causes without an autopsy in Greenbrier County, West Virginia.

Her mother, Mary Jane Heaster, saw Elva in a dream, and Elva told her that Elva’s husband, Erasmus Stribbling Trout Shue had murdered her.

Mary Jane visited the local prosecutor, John Alfred Preston and told him about the dream.

Maybe because Preston had suspicions Erasmus had murdered a deceased ex-wife, whether or not he believed Mary, he ordered an autopsy of Elva’s body.

The autopsy revealed Elva had been strangled to death, her neck broken, her windpipe crushed and bruising around her neck.

A trial ensued, and Erasmus was found guilty of the murder of Elva Zona Heaster Shue, and she became known as the Greenbrier Ghost.

Bob Boyd

Holding cells in the castle where people were imprisoned
hundreds of years ago.
Metal holding rings prisoners were chained to.
Some were thrown into a pit and left to die there.
Others were hanged off the front of the building.
And spirits are alleged to swarm the castle.
Ghosts moan, chains rattle, people see ghosts in
the mirrors.
Things get thrown around in rooms.
Sheets tossed off beds people are sleeping in.
In one room, stones appear and drop to the floor.
St Briavels Castle is truly a strange and haunted place.

Bob Boyd

When Anne Boleyn failed to provide King Henry VIII king of England an heir to the throne, he ordered her beheading.

She begged King Henry to have her head cut off with a sword instead of the nasty business of an axe which usually took a few blows to get the gruesome job done.

When Anne’s head was severed with one strike from the sword on May 19, 1536, the executioner held her head aloft to show the crowd the eyes and lips in the severed head moved for a few frightening seconds.

Now every year on May 19th, Anne’s ghost appears at Blickling Hall in Norfolk, England holding her head in her hand seated in a carriage drawn by a headless horseman and headless horses.

Shortly after that the headless horseman and the headless horses disappear, and Anne roams the building and the grounds holding her head in her hands until the sun rises.

Bob Boyd

After Mark got away with murdering his wife
and her body was never found, his wife’s
vengeful spirit arose from the dead.

First she went after her husband’s girlfriend
that he had cheated on her with.

While the girlfriend was driving down route 66
during rush hour, she manifested inside
the woman’s mind cursing her.

The woman got so terrified she lost
control of her car and the car plunged off
the highway into a deep rocky ravine.

The car and the woman nosedived to
the bottom of the ravine and blew up
in flames, her husband’s girlfriend dead.

Then she manifested in her husband’s
dreams as a demon and taunted him
with that demon image during the day.

A week later, her husband gone crazy,
he bought a Glock G26 and blew what
remained of his mind and his sanity
to bits.

Bob Boyd

A rapist raped and murdered her at age 17, her life cut far too short.

But in the afterlife she became a powerful ghost, perhaps the power was a compensation for the horrible way she went out.

She psychically arranged events so that the man who raped and murdered her was caught and put to death for the many other young women he had raped and murdered.

Instead of going into the Light and basking in the bliss of the higher worlds, she decided to spend forever as an avenging ghost bringing justice for the many young women brutally taken out of this world.

Bob Boyd

Some ghosts are only imprints of events that
happened when they died.

No interactions.

No changes in their manifestations,
only like a movie scene
playing over and over and no more real
than the films.

They have passed on
from this earthly existence, but the
imprint remains.

Some ghosts make sounds, move objects,
speak, change room temperatures,
and touch you.

If this theory is true, it’s a mystery to me
why these disembodied beings remain
attached to the earth plane.

I have read they have unfinished business
and look after loved ones
like guardian ghosts.

The idea they don’t know how to get to the Light
and move on has been popularized
by Hollywood movies, as if they aren’t as smart
as other deceased people
or fear the Light for whatever reasons.

To the contrary, people who have had near death
experiences seem to pass from this earthly life
with ease.

But since they are not permanently
dead it’s hard to know if what they report is
completely accurate.

I see death being beyond ghosts and earthly
attachments.

I see death as the ultimate awakening
and when I go out,
I’ve no intention of remaining on
earth as a disembodied spirit.

And I welcome death
like a friend and not as a foe.

Bob Boyd

An eccentric, his name was Henry Cope.
He lived in northeast Hampshire, England
and had an obsession with the color green
and only ate green vegetables and fruits.

He dressed in green impeccably and his
apartment was painted green as well as
having a green sofa, green chairs,
green tables, a green bed and green curtains.

His two-wheeled carriage was also green
along with his riding gloves and whips.
Around his neck, he sported a green
cravat.

He was said to have lost his wits from too
much studying or from his rejection by
a beautiful woman he loved.

He is thought to have died in 1810 in
St Luke’s Hospital in Old Street London,
a hospital for “incurable pauper lunatics,”
though other theories about his death abound.

Now he is one of 12-15 ghosts alleged to
haunt Bramshill House in Hampshire, England.

Bob Boyd

My lovelorn friend Josh, always the adventurous type,
said he picked up a familiar ghost girl named Lydia
hitchhiking on High Point Road in Jamestown, NC,
who told him her real name was Annie, not Lydia.

I knew Josh was joking, embellishing an urban legend.
I let him continue to see where his fake story would go.
He said he had a one and only attraction to ghost girl Annie,
who had amazing dark eyes and was otherworldly beautiful.

Annie said the feeling was mutual, felt they were soulmates, gave him a kiss goodbye and a promised date the next night on High Point Road in Jamestown at 8 pm.

I saw Josh before he left, said good luck, bid him goodbye,
secretly followed him in my car to catch him in his charade,
the night dark, full-mooned, and foreboding.

I’m not usually superstitious or spooked by things, but while following Josh, I had a dreadful premonition something awful was going to happen.

Seconds later, Josh lost control of his car, skidded off the road, and smashed into a solid oak tree.

When I drove to the accident site, I spied Annie shimmering and ghostly white and Josh shimmering and ghostly white in her arms.

They kissed and then they vanished. I don’t know where to.

I rushed to Josh’s car, his body bloodied and smashed up, dead on High Point Road in Jamestown at 8 pm. And I heard his voice inside my head, “I’m okay and in love forever with Annie. Farewell friend.”

Now reader, know this; if some night you drive on High Point Road in Jamestown around 8 pm don’t be surprised if you see Josh and Annie thumbs out hitchhiking a ride.

Bob Boyd

Lucy was as fair a woman as a woman can be.
She passed from this life at only twenty three.
On the day of her marriage to Charles Porter,
She tripped on her wedding gown on a stairs.
She died when her head hit the bottom step.
Now she wanders day and night in her wedding gown,
As if still trying to get to her wedding that never happened.
I’ve tried to communicate with Lucy about going to the Light,
But she never seems to acknowledge my presence.
Perhaps Lucy is only like a film replaying day and night.

Bob Boyd

In case you are unfamiliar with this kind of apparition, Lucy is not in the scene described in the poem. To quote an expert in these matters. She is “residual energy, like a playback of the past, an echo of a past event.” Lucy has gone somewhere else in the afterlife, hopefully to a paradise.

Supposedly sometimes when a person dies from a horrible event or an accident, the scene of that death keeps playing back over and over. It’s like watching an actor in an old movie who isn’t there physically.

Another telling characteristic is Lucy doesn’t interact, just like an actor in a movie wouldn’t interact with you.

And as far as me trying to get Lucy to the Light, that’s pure fiction. Most of my poems are fictional, even first person ones, with some exceptions like a poem I wrote today: Boundaries of Love with a 25 Year Old Adorable Woman.

I was in a marriage with an abusive lout
He’d come home from taverns and
Beat the hell out of a black and blue me
When he slammed my head against
The bedroom wall and nearly killed me
I decided I had to stop his constant abuse
I couldn’t leave him. I had no place to go
And in my time, divorce was shameful
So as was the custom of the day with
Some unhappy and dissatisfied wives
I found my perfect solution in arsenic
I snuck it in that mean bastard’s ale
And I’m ashamed to say that I
Took great pleasure in his death
The score settled, justice done
I got away with killing him
And lived the rest of my life in peace
But now that I’m dead for centuries
I roam the earth endlessly, a fearful ghost
I dare not float into that tunnel of Light and
Surely be exiled to that horrifying place
As a murderess in afterlife disgrace
Burning forever in the fires of hell

Bob Boyd

I was like the Prince of Darkness in a preacher’s robe,
A traveling preacher in the northeast of America.
I did the Lord’s work seven days a week,
Turning lost souls into believers,
Saved them all for the glory of God.
I did the Devil’s work at other times,
stabbing many unwary women to death.

I brought hundreds of people to God,
Ended fifty women’s lives for the Devil.
I had no problem with the contradictory life.
My conscience didn’t care about the infamy.
I was a clever fiend, never got caught,
And I savored all those sweet kills,
Starting with neighbors’ pets as a child.

I died of a massive heart attack in 1873,
Which was ironic, heartless as I was.

When I knocked on heaven’s door
I thought God would forgive my murderous sins
Because of all those lost souls I saved for him.
And after all, I reasoned, he had made
Me into the half holy half unholy thing,
Preacher monster killer that I was.

But nobody answered heaven’s door
Even though disembodied I’d changed.
I lost my compulsion to sinfully kill.
The preacher in me took completely over.
And even though I worked for Satan some,
I didn’t want to go to his world of torments.

So in my ghostly form I roam the world
From church to church praying and confessing
With the hope of enough sincere atonement
Heaven’s door will eventually open to me.

Bob Boyd

he was born on the bad side of town
where trouble knocked at every door
he committed his first crime at age 5
stole a bag of candy from a store
to his mother it was an innocent thing
but in his life it was the beginning
of a career of theft and criminality
that progressed into killing people
and becoming a notorious hitman
in the end he had 30 dead bodies
under his expansive hitman belt
ghosts that came back to haunt him
in his final horrifying hell-bound days

Bob Boyd