Dan Hanosh - My Ghost, the Writer

I move my pen across
the parchment, sometimes with
such precise strokes,
proceeding without
my guiding I wonder
if it’s really me,

my conscious mind appears
blank yet the other, does
not speak until I
sleep or so I thought,
I pick up a pen I
feel someone else is

in control, I write for
my mind is empty
though my pen dances
across the page, I
write outrageous words
of imagery thoughts

of emotion symbols
of happiness hidden
bits of my sorrow,
never used by me
before, maybe My Ghost,
the Writer, he knows.

Dan Hanosh

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/my-ghost-the-writer/