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About This Poem
A Package of Smokes
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A Package of Smokes
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This is my shape poem…. Let’s just
imagine for a moment that this is a
package of smokes…Really,it is!......
And this is NO JOKE!..... Never has
there been an object that has ruined
my life more, killing my father, mother,
best friend and so many more.
Whittling away at lives; it’s tempting
our kids. Now, let’s imagine this is an
X-ray machine revealing small cell
carcinoma of the lung. Stage 4 it is!
This is shaping up to be a deadly
shape poem, isn’t it?...Now this is a
box containing one thousand “F words.”
"Ladies don’t speak this way,” my
mother sternly said. But you aren’t
here to know the difference, are you
mom? I spew obscenities and hatred
at the top of my lungs! ... Now this is
a casket of putrefied wood. Your
smokes put the final nail in it. How
selfish of you to leave me here alone!
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Written for Craig Cornish's Contest~Concrete/Shape
7-24-12
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