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The ghost of Ben Johnson

The ghost of Ben Jonson draped itself across my troubled dreams last night
buying the rounds in a strange pub, blue mermaids and bagpipes on the juke box
angry in his critique of my style
"abandon excess and ye kill yer muse" he raved and waved the glowing green absinthe in my face.
Crazed I staggered and swayed as I pushed to defend my pace reciting odd rhymes in iambic pentameter to impress this specter of gone days
with both rough hands he grabbed my face, intent eyes pleading as he begged "use thy own voice boy"
My heart raced in the darkness, I awake
you are the poet his voice faded away
Aren't we all I said to empty space
reached for my glass and went to pour myself a drink

Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Editing stage: 
Content level: 
Not Explicit Content


Hi atorn, I like your prose poem very much. Deftly written and full of great imagery. The ghost of Ben Johnson, did you really dream about him? By tweaking your prose a little, you could break up the lines for it to be FV. The imagery and musicality are all there.
Enjoyed, best, Gracy

"My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies; fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die, I can fly, my friends.” – Freddie Mercury

to see you back. Glad that you have had a bit of time to relax and write. I have enjoyed your story, you should tell more of them. I see a couple of places that could use a bit of tightening up. Delete the [both], it does nothing for the line and [both] can be determined from the use of [hands]. Stick to your tenses: [it should be racing in the darkness, I awoke]. ~ Geezer.

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so compelling! especially all that follows from "with both rough hands . . . "
very much looking forward to more from you


good to see you back
you have not missed a beat in your writing

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