4am.

fog

in the treeline

slipping silently

along 

the edges of my mind

insidious curls

trickling

between the coils

of my brain

these thoughts of you

are cloying

and painful...

when will your ghost

let me go?

Reviews

[Crowley]

They are there for a reason I think....to save upon from our self, its only when we need them too much that we can feel their weight. A brush of the cheek, the mopping of a few tears....the day we don't need them is the day when we become the ghost.....Nice write...I really liked this.

[Moflo]

Wow I really like the way this poem progressed. It was very dreamlike and descriptive, almost captures the time of night perfectly. Very nice work.

[OT]

very nice!! really like this one! it has an ethereal feel to it, floating almost!! great poem!!!

[JC]

you have a way of melding nature and humanity, objects and people in a very mystical poetic way...always dig your work, your amazing.

[Ed Hart]

when we forgive them...

[Robin]

that pic fits soooo well ~

insidious curls , coils of the brain , cloying - yum

you work well with all mediums , loving this painting in the mist

[The Analog Kid]

Nice. Fog that just won't quite let go around the perimeter of your mind. Some of it invading your thoughts.

[Tony]

The apparitions of persons who are nevertheless... present.
As usual, this Poet has stacked some English in such a fashion to evoke the chill of the night, and the memory, or inspiration.
Perfect.

[Alicante lullaby]

O,ghosts,ghosts,ghosts...
when will your ghost let me go?
loves it,e.

[Nothing Personal]

Wonderful. It is pure coincidence that I happen to read the shorter poems today and they all are soo.. good. A perfect relay of that time of the day and how when everyone sleeps, for some, things might have gone astray real bad..Very touching poem !!