Death: a Poet's Thoughts

by Maple Tree   Mar 2, 2021


Death is the calling of a childhood friend
or a neighbors father, chilling sound
of a flat rate pulse, and walking to a small
room with a Doctor looking at the floor.

I've seen death once, so close I could catch
the light I was following in my palm,
but the machine kept pumping
and the light turned to smiling faces
above me.

Lost my footing on the edge of the deep end
feeling water rise in my lungs as hairy legs
above snatched the back of my swim suit
and I screamed like a newborn once again.

Touching darkness at night while writing poetry
sipping coffee, cigarette burning as bloody nails
tapped a lonely desk of a middle aged bipolar nightmare-

(what I was known for at the time)

I've never wished to become a famous poet
for I write in my corner of the world to release-

but when I die for real this time,
I just want someone to open these up
and catch a glimpse of my soul

that is all.

5


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Latest Comments

  • 1 month ago

    by Everlasting

    That is all. I can’t say much. But those last words say a lot.

  • 1 month ago

    by Milo

    I can't shake the feeling how comforting it would be to float hand in hand with Death when it is time to go. No matter what you have done in life, whether you die loved or die lonely, we all leave on the same footing in a way. We are all greeted by death. I guess it all depends on everyone's belief in the afterlife.

  • 1 month ago

    by Star

    </3 I truly have no words, this gave me real chills!!

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