Do
you remember Jean Hendrickson? Of course you do! Wait til you read what
she’s written now! A very different poem from the one you read here
first (Community),
this is a work of stark and graphic images. It is a personal poem, a
request of the Grim Reaper himself. If he appreciates poetry (and I do
hope he’s a reader!), her wish just might be granted.
Death,
By Jean M. Hendrickson
don’t lurk
in my bedroom
smelling of unwashed feet
and dirty laundry;
roar
around the corner
going ninety
and smash me flat,
burst my heart
and use the aorta
as a hose to shove a clot
into my brain.
Whatever you do
give me no warning
leave nothing
to chance
–kill me–then, move on.
Don’t lurk, go ninety, the poet commands of death, smash and burst, she continues. I like this poem for it’s bravery.
Oh, this is just incredible poetry. Powerful, powerful stuff. Love it.
Thank you so much Danielle!
Thank YOU for writing it! See, I love it so much I’m back again š Encore?
This poem smacks you right in the face! You wrote an epic in 72 words. Yes, I counted them. I don’t know how someone can say so much in so few words! But you do. This is wonderful, Jean!
What an amazing thing to say, Ann, thank you.
I’d say Glove***** to you, but it might be misconstrued by others for something different from our happy, humorous exchange from the past.
Ah, Jean . . . how often I have thought the same way, but you were able to put in an evocative, powerful poem. And it rings true.
Sharon
Isn’t this the way each one of us would like to go? Only you have said it in you own inimitable fashion – with shockingly strong images. Yes!!
love it…
Thank you so much, Scott.