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Poetry


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Smoking

By no1butClo

26 October 2006

had this kicking around for a while, I liked it...

One of those nights
nothing feels right
music’s shallow and fake, leaves
unanswered questions in its wake.
my ecape root thus barred
my twilght de-starred
I curl upon the sill
infused with fear of the will
to jump;

I need a fag.
Clipper and packet from plastic bag.
Sickly flame,
but I’m back in the game
just ciggies hit the spot,
can’t get off on pot
no more. From my lips a stream
another life, a fragile dream
gone in a puff, gone up in smoke.
Oh how I wish I would choke.

Simple pleasures
grow feathers, fly,
another sod needs ‘em more than me
what would I have done with them anyway?
I said, “Get lost, big shot,
I’ll forge my own luck”
with one lousy fuck?
Not quite.
Fortune is blind,
I sold my mind.
My payment?

One hell of a headache.

Reviews

Ooh. :)
Written by kitten_princess (31 comments posted) 25th October 2006

Different. Your stuff doesn't usually rhyme, so at first, it felt pretty odd.

But I read again, and I liked. A refreshing change.

I liked the feeling in the poem, the tone of bitterness? It was good.

Lovely stuff!

Keep at it!

Kitten xx

Written by ellipinnock (1753 comments posted) 26th October 2006

I like this, it's interesting. I wasnt sure about the sporadic rhyming in the final stanza...
The tone was excellent for me. An enjoyable read.

Elli

yeah...
Written by morley (4 comments posted) 27th October 2006

...i like it! i love the contrast between the first "stanza" (see, i CAN use these new fangled technical terms!) and the second! it just sort of hits you about half way through the second line(?) unfortunately it reminds me of some of my friends, but i do like it!

Written by Witzl (1585 comments posted) 27th November 2006

This was in my 'Work Awaiting Review' box. I love that box -- it tosses me interesting things that have disappeared from view and makes me feel that serendipity is at work. I see that you submitted this barely a month ago and wonder how I missed it . . .

I am as virulently anti-smoking as any human being you will ever meet, but I liked this poem. I thought the phrase 'infused with fear of the will' could be rephrased so that it fit the good pace of the poem, but loved the phrase 'my twilight destarred.'

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