16 July 2013

Death Waits

Death-Waits

There’s a shadow on my mind

And it feels like death

It smells like rotten meat

The odour of death and decay

The very nature of languid

Flesh on the bone

Is like the touch of death

Of slowly dying flesh

On the living corpse

My nostrils are full of death

Death fills my senses

And poisons my imagination

Death, the little death

That strips by degrees

And by seconds ticking

The death of the heart

The crushing of souls

The stinking fetid canker

Of a measured half existence

The knowledge of cancer

A gnawing of deadly tumours

Death came in the morning

To blot out the sun

And extinguish the flame

Death is hiding / waiting

Behind the full stop

Of any sentence

On the next page

.

2 comments:

  1. Chilling and shattering. I could imagine how only few gods among us can make time stand still like this and a moment of utter importance pass through every nerve of the reader. Such alarming and enlightening is the experience of truly powerful art. The ending blew me away

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    Replies
    1. Thank you Natasha I am so pleased you liked my poem. I often find myself contemplating the inevitable - I guess it's simply in my nature.

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