Fall Poetry Series: Part of the
apparitions project involved sharing poetry and photography from other talented writers and artists, in celebration of the book's publication and this incredible year of poetry. I promised another short poetry series this fall, which will encompass the poems I've shared in my non-poetry books, including
This House: The True Story of a Girl and a Ghost,
Maryland Ghosts: Paranormal Encounters in the Free State, and
Where the Party Never Ended: Ghosts of the Old Baraboo Inn. Alas,
Breakfast with Bigfoot lacks a dedicated poem, but makes up for it in poop jokes. This week, we'll take it all the way back to
This House, which opens with a poem of the same name. In fact, the book is named after this beloved poem, which I wrote in 1998 when I was 12 years old:
By day, it was empty. By night, it was haunted.
The house was old and caving in.
It was ancient, and it smelled awful, and it was musty.
It was hidden behind large, forbidding trees.
It was a careless house.
The walls were coming down.
One touch could send it toppling to the ground.
Shattered glass and rusted nails were its greatest qualities.
It was gray, and rotting, and ugly.
It was my favorite place in the world.
"This House," copyright 2022 Amelia Cotter (first published in This House: The True Story of a Girl and a Ghost)
