The Kiss of Death
If I were a mountain climber,
I’d always take the time
To check out superstitious lore
When choosing where to climb.
For recently an avalanche
Took several climbers’ lives.
I’m sure they left some grieving friends
And parents, children, wives.
This avalanche occurred in France.
Mont Blanc’s the mountain range;
But here’s the part that is, to me,
More obvious than strange.
The northern face of Mont Maudit
Is where the slide began.
The meaning of that name was not
A factor in their plan.
Or possibly, those mountaineers
Thought there was some mystique
To conquering a mountain
That’s defined as “cursed peak.”
With dangers in a sport like this,
I know I’d be averse
To setting out upon a peak
That’s burdened with a curse.
They thumbed their noses at the gods
Which is the kiss of death.
I wonder if they realized that
As they took their last breath.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
