Thursday, June 23, 2011

The ghost of poetry
floats haltingly by me,
haunting my creative mind.

Words slip through me
faltering and failing -
robbed of my inability
to create a stanza.

The ghost steals my insight.

Perhaps I have been
flirting with the devil
for too long.

But I'm coming home,
rounding the bend to
a place without hauntings.

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