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![Profile picture of Ghosteen]()
Ghosteen wrote a new post
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Read MoreSaturday's sunset cracked the pavements of my skin, I only flirted with the waitress to keep my mouth moving Becoming mute was just a covenant between redemption, forgiveness and the snow – shuffling into dark clouds - waiting to fall backwards The rainshiver smells of Thursday dreaming of...
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![Profile picture of Ghosteen]()
And this is why I am so pleased I returned to the keyboard a decade ago. I was chatting to our great friend Honoria earlier and I’d love for us all to meet under U.S of A skies.
p.s. I will have British marines as bodyguards, for some insecure Yanks hate me. Lol. It’s always a pleasure my friend
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![Profile picture of Styxian]()
it’s always the insecure ones that hate. LOL
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![Profile picture of Ghosteen]()
Ghosteen wrote a new post
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Read MoreFrozen are the arms of anticipation how quickly does ice turn into rust? Please tell me that your eyes are pearls anchored to every tanker ever sunk, my horizon is becoming narrower in the wake of every day Just returned from the coast and how the...
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![Profile picture of Crimsin]()
hello dearest Rob wowee that’s quite a write I loved the ending ❤️
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![Profile picture of Ghosteen]()
so kind brenda, thank you x
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![Profile picture of RomaJ]()
Rob, your poem is like a fever dream. I was instantly gripped by the desperate longing and brutal cynicism, and I loved the image of the Autumn chill being “chloroform to every dream buried under sand.” The sudden “Fox News” line completely took me off guard, but I found its cynical, real-world punch hilarious amidst the rawness. It’s a relentless plea – a cinematic scramble toward desire. Unforgettable.
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![Profile picture of Ghosteen]()
Slip inside my dreams Roma and place cinema scripts upon my skin. I could Sunday scribble a thousand words, but in the interest of public decency, I won’t
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![Profile picture of Ghosteen]()
Ghosteen wrote a new post
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Read MoreGood morning midnight, leave my dreams unopened in the ashtray I still feel like a thief Waiting for the moon to bleed Some nights simply swell the lungs inhale pairs of open legs and death’s apostrophe, fearful to exhale for desire can choke and the last comma is...
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![Profile picture of RomaJ]()
Good morning, midnight. I felt the pulse of your poem in my chest, lungs swelling with fear and desire, words draping around me like sirens and streetlights. Each line carried me through a fevered promenade of longing, loss, and muted poetry. “The last comma is so close to coma” – that line stayed with me, a sharp, exquisite ache.
The collab <3
Ghosteen, It's always a pleasure to read your poetry.
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![Profile picture of Ghosteen]()
At the risk of repetition, where the fuck have you come from? Those from DUP know the last few years have been terminally cruel. But there is no self-indulgence or self-pity from me. Congratulations, you are now a poetry citizen of my beloved Wales! No need for passports, just leave your neck exposed, so every welcome can be a love bite.
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![Profile picture of Ghosteen]()
Ghosteen wrote a new post
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Read MorePlace my orphan heart inside the jewels of your oceanic dress every tide could just be bikini may the last Wednesday wave keep you wet forever Where were youwhen my spine was a crushed novellaawaiting the librarian delicate touchto place me on her bookshelf? How...
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![Profile picture of Backdeckbenny (Peter)]()
Strangely brilliant.
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![Profile picture of Ghosteen]()
I’ll settle for strangely beautiful. Thank you Peter. In poetry and cyber kindness. Rob
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![Profile picture of RomaJ]()
The tension between digital distance and primal yearning – between the “computer screen” and “bones falling out of pillows”
– is utterly captivating. The imagery is beautiful and sensual, a collision of technology and raw desire.-
![Profile picture of Ghosteen]()
Where the hell did you sail from? Let’s board a pirate ship and plunder & plunder, until there is nothing left but words hand-scratched on the Titanic.
Written since the womb really (apologies – that sounds so fucking pretentious) but as the decades tumble, if I can touch such beautiful souls then let that be my linguistic epitaph. Rob – never ever call me Bob. Lol
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![Profile picture of Styxian]()
Outstanding.
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Your ability as a writer always makes me interested in reading what you offer today. This is mainly why I find a site to frequent. Not for my own accolades, but to be energized by others’ writes. You do that, consistently. Bravo