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Breath of Death MAG
Four in the morning was never welcome,
but the door was left ajar.
Off to the medics, off to the beds,
to bones of frailty, and zombies for heads.
My father just lay there, with an oxygen face,
skin soon to be blue, body covered with dew.
Left from lung’s life.
Groans and
pants and
mental lapses.
A device distinguishable as death.
More of cancer than more of human.
The Reaper’s tumor lodged in the nodes.
Five o’clock, then Five-o-Five.
Youthful son, then head of the house.
Modest funeral, modest sympathy.
Years from now the memory’s gone.
Those who recall the death of one,
but who can say who sleeps?
© Anonymous
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This article has 9 comments.
pineappler03 SILVER said...
on Aug. 12 2016 at 11:14 am
This is so sad. I'm sorry if this is a real memory. Great job pulling out those emotions.
rustyemotions BRONZE said...
on Feb. 23 2013 at 12:52 am
I especially like the cadence in your words. This is great work. Keep writing!
neshi-baby said...
on Sep. 7 2011 at 10:21 am
what if your best friend dies??? cry then too?? because that tends to happen alot to me
kimmi-bear said...
on Sep. 7 2011 at 10:13 am
this is amazing! you did a really good job but i think you should have added more to it!
nevercliche159 BRONZE said...
on Oct. 11 2009 at 9:39 pm
They say wiritng from experience is the best way to write. I know a lot of people who have died from cancer, and the poem really almost forced me to experience it again. It had a lot of meaning.
ninja alice said...
on Feb. 21 2009 at 1:40 am
my grandma died from cancer i felt the same way u do
Behindtheice said...
on Nov. 22 2008 at 11:38 pm
Thats really beautiful.
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