The Ghost Ship of New Bern

By T.L. Coston

Calm – eerily calm was the Neuse on that September night

Barely a wave rippled the first, full moon’s light

Alone, I stood watching and waiting for what?  I didn’t know

Listening - anticipating on New Bern's shore

Minutes seemed like hours, and yet I tarried; 
Anchored was I, waiting and waiting

Till the nights dew wetted my feet and cold began to bite

Finally, a whispered scent stilled my shivers, and bumps turned into fright

A distant flicker grew with each wave slapping – slapping New Bern’s shore. 

Closer it came, this flaming shadow, odorous of burnt wood and flesh.

Silently, the pulsating orb approached, casting a hellish hue

 It was then, the full moon revealed the ghost ship of yore

On deck, shadows of Palatine emigrants writhed in flames

Yet, neither ship nor soul was consumed

Nor a crackle of fire or piteous plea were heard as they sailed by

Wave upon wave slapping – slapping New Bern’s shore.