Poetry Blog by 220August

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Cloud of Ghosts

The air was thick with ghosts, ghosts from Greece, ghosts from Rome, and modern ghosts from home. 

There were ghosts of tradition, ghosts of faith.  Illuminated were many ghosts but no wraiths. 

Her plumped lips were beckoning all and we tried to admit nothing, not the ghosts, not her, nor I.
None of us were living, except the ghosts, and none were willing to die.  

My heart pounded like a fis...

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ghost poem

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