Ruminations Of Disintegration

Dont you think Decembers collected enough

This was just a musing over death, I'd be amiss to claim I don't take advantage of dramatic license sometimes.

Put that in laymens terms for the uneducated please

EXCELLENT metaphor! Don't change a thing!

Fat smacks  
drop wet  
on maple  
leaf backs  

Wow! What an opening!

Thank you for that! I hope your morning is going well 😊

a 'real' poet here.   Most of the stuff posted 'round here is at best 'lame', 'egocentric drivel', or silly hallmark card sentimentality......(& worse)........the 'right stuff' you have got. But let it not go to yr head, (so to speak).

Thank you so much :) I aim to be authentic, and to produce things that I can look back on fondly even if I improve and move past them.  The support means SO very much.

This was like opera to me, beautiful but I'm afraid it lost me - I will come back and re read it :-)

Big Like :-))

"Fat smacks    
drop wet    
on maple    
leaf backs"- your taking me to the smell of pine and maple trees, the Toronto maple leaves hockey team,and a stack of flapjacks flipping....waiting for syrup to drip    
    
"Whern are the moments    
where slime-ily    
they sink    
into on fiberous flesh?    
to marry in melting matings    
of rot..." -   frogs,swamps, i love the "fiberous flesh". makes me think of preying mantis killing their mate  
    
"Olympic salinity    
of earth & air    
will undertake the ashen likes    
of me    
Unfastening silver cord    
filigree" -    ornamental working of earthen forts, makes me think of a civil war for here named fort Dickerson. there's a huge quarry people swim; jump off cliffs and die....a bit crazy now that i think about.  
    
"When there falls    
my final foliage    
& December    
collects bloodless    
dead    
cellulose"-  taxonomic ranks: kingdom, phylum or division, class, order, family, genus, species.  
 
 
when i read this as a whole i get  
 
the troubles of life fall heavy  
people are cynical  
sneaky  
we all fall back to the dirt and may be born again  
anew  
when i fall dead in December  
i hope to turn into a plant  
green walls wrote my name  
 
 
great poem AtoMik, Death at it's best brought from the fumes of the fallen.  
 
honest critique-i'm not showing anything sticking out that needs to be changed.

splendid writing.

Oh dude, I totally see the connection there to pancakes!!

Thank you so much for the awesome feedback!

Yes, I had hopeed the feel of nature and death (indeed, how they interlock) was present here.