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poetry by j matthew waters

the death of a poet


my words bleed no more
bandaged and clotted
how they stop in their tracks
my entire body trembling
for the very last time

three angels hover above me
I pretend not to see them
and though they say nothing
I easily read their thoughts
just as they easily know mine

I ask for pen and paper
but nobody hears my call
so I arise from the table
unshaken and all on my own
resurrecting words left unsaid




september two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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12 thoughts on “the death of a poet

  1. Reblogged this on As it Comes and commented:
    Another amazing piece.

  2. Between “my words bleed no more” and “resurrecting words left unsaid”: the tremble of the body, none hearing the call, the imagery of the three angels. Resignation murmured beautifully. Splendid poem!

  3. John, this is beyond words. Something stirred in me while reading it. So simple yet so alluring. Thanks for writing.

  4. This is brilliant poetry.

  5. Amazing! It was such a great read

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