Hardly Anything Said

Once I asked ghosts
not to haunt me.
I made a deal, I would stop
being a ghost
that haunts others, too.

“Let’s let each other be,” I said
but they haven’t answered, yet.

Their faces do talk flowers
as some distant drip-lined
painting–no, not Monet,
someone wetter.

In the meantime, I let mouths
like carnations fill, watch
sun cross balcony,
Barnett Newman light-lines
cross mahogany floor
left to right,
left to right in slants

while a man outside
hurriedly gusts out
breaths of a cigarette,
then walks
across the railroad tracks.

(inspired from “II. The Summer Loves”-JB)


Comments

victoriahunter's picture
Great imagery and rhythm in most of the poem. I have some minor suggestions. I would consider possibling adding to other lines to extend some of the line lengths. You could consider the nature of a ghost, when considering your line lengths in some parts. I also felt you can choose a different action word other than "walk". I am a new member, sharing what I know. I hope this is okay. I apologize if it is not. There is the blue book of wing beats poetry lessons, I think you would really enjoy.

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