poetry

smell of death

TOL-Shot1-081-700x1050

this is to my property,
to my poetry
that sinks beneath the cave of obsolete synonyms
a blob of blur pain,
a vasectomy to the skin of dreams.
There are things still left to comprehend for me,
like the voices of women,
in the kitchen
in the lawns of hilly areas,
a tree that speaks of death is already a dream.
i pace it, sniffing
in a thick gray- death soup
A space for a thing I am given
of indifference
i have memories growing like a weed on my knuckles,
a stale one.
a desiccated one.
but memories can make you think like a hurricane,
a dead star already?
a hospital that collects the voices of pain
in a bowl of mercury dipped cry
and the men,
all scattered
looking upon the rim of thin cloud
a transparent powder of dream
there is absolutely nothing there.
a sound that makes you believe in God is actually time!
priceless and quiet
my fingers…
they melt and sag,
they are told
Do not Touch..
It’s a smell of Death.
Rub and sniff it.

27 thoughts on “smell of death

  1. a great contribution to the poetic community :), keep the good work flowing. I am following your publishings few weeks now and I can see so much variance !

    Liked by 2 people

  2. Such great exposure in this piece. Do you mind if I include your poem in my upcoming journal. the theme for this year is the ones that death took from us. your undisputed resolution here will fit in well in my journal. You will so have the opportunity to share your sites link and get a copy of the journal as well.

    Liked by 2 people

      1. The journal is “VOICES: The Journal of Emotions and Motions. Contents are the combination of poems and essays on a yearly theme. The theme for this Edition is “The Iroko Tree Has Fallen: The ones that death stole from us.” The journal was launched last year with over 20 contributions across the world. You can check voices.giftedminds.com.ng in case you want further clarification.

        Liked by 1 person

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