The Death of Words

prone cold on forest floor buried
in a ratted nest of torn pages

crumpled, tossed
in bloody autumn shades of pain

stale air hushes
— gusts the death of words

arboretum canopy covers
tucked in a winter wild with chaos

fabric shreds hang off limbs
dirtied hiding from time’s abuse

fucked by wealth of words
— errantly used

stung by false love

reaching out a hand
a skeleton in thin skin

picking out refrains
from rotting teeth

spitting out prose
that failed

bonfire wails
of voices killed

from inside

~ Emily C.



39 thoughts on “The Death of Words

      1. I’m really touched to have that affect! I never know how others will receive my words, so this kind of response makes my day. This poem came from deep, as you picked up on. And thank you, kindly, for the thoughtful reblog! 🙏🏼😊

        Liked by 1 person

      2. I humbly hand my blog to your utterly lovely essence. I just want you to know I heard you. I so heard you and it cut me good. I actually copied and pasted it into my phone note thingamajiggy. I hope you love what you write, I hope you know your worth at least to a sloppy poet like me. Trust me, I’m ok with it lol

        Liked by 1 person

      3. My poetry sucks lately, but thanks for saying it. I’m not going deep enough. Your poem said more to me than you’ll ever know. It’s given me courage to DIG. Goodnight you fantastic orb of consciousness!

        Liked by 1 person

  1. Reblogged this on Just Ruminating and commented:

    Every once in a while, if you’re lucky, you will really be staggered by a poem. You won’t be distracted by work, the kids, the dog, your own existence. That poem will make love to your mind until you can’t think straight. This poem is that for me. Emily writes great poetry, but this poem is from a place in her that most of us could only dream of having. If you don’t take 5 minutes to read it, you certainly don’t deserve it. Sorry, but it’s the truth.

    Liked by 1 person

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