Who was that masked man?!?
Brian Williams, rides again.
He was in Amilia Earhart's plane;
even rode with the Dalton Gang.
The day the Titanic went down;
In the rescue boat when Rose was found.
He went on expeditions with Louis and Clark.
Once gave his seat to Rosa Parks.
He was actually the first man in space.
That shadow on the moon........ It's his face!
The earliest woman, they deemed to be
bones in the desert they named Lucy.
She was his niece, tho she drug her knuckles,
so he really is a monkey's uncle!
He walked miles and miles on the Trail of Tears;
wondered the desert with Hebrews for forty years.
He dated Cleopatra; drank wine with Moses;
gave the Queen of Sheba a camel and roses.
He's walked with Bigfoot in the hills;
been bitten by vampires, but magically heals.
He has had great adventures of every kind.
He's Brian Williams; a legend in his own mind.
Maybe I can be one of those news cast stars.
This is Arlene, reporting from mars........
Couldn't resist this little tribute to the wild stories of reporter Brian Williams who was fired for seemingly padding up his stories....
Copyright © Arlene Smith | Year Posted 2015
Riding an elephant
Down the narrow trail looking triumphant
Scanning the golden landscape
Like Hannibal with enemies in flight
Sight from a lofty height
King of the jungle moving
With lioness by his side
Climbing Mount Kilimanjaro
Guides by my side with packs on their backs
Some paths steep with rocks
Boots slipping below our tired feet
Beautiful birds in unison flight
Moving with terrestrial light
Stunning sunlight summit on the peak
Praying in an Ethiopian Church
Preserved in rocks built by humans’ hands
Never touched by conquest plans
Protected from the invaders’ footsteps
Queen of Sheba and Solomon’s nest
Touched by Arch of the Covenant
Mary, Joseph, and Jesus once slept
Eating yam, sipping palm wine, and tasting milk
Freshly squeezed by experienced hands
Taste of life in the mosaic grassland
Sustaining and soul refreshing
Cradle of humankind adorning
Invaded for its gold, riches, and human capacity
Birth of life on earth with tenacity
Respecting its living and arduous journey
Essence of life once was and is again to come
Riding a camel across the hot Sahara sand
Once wet now dried, exported gold from Mali…
Treasures from the hearts of once African empires
That which was, is, and shall forever be
Africa the birthing Motherland
We still love and respect thee!
Seventh Place Winner
"African's Pride" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Adeleke Adeite
June 30, 2010
Copyright © Joseph Spence Sr | Year Posted 2010
(Inspired by dance steps from a belly dancing class I once took!)
She rolls her pretty head from side to side
while, raised above her face, are slim curved arms.
Brief pose. . . . She’s readied to expose her charms.
Wrists twist, and serpentine, arms downward glide.
Her undulating silk-draped hips move round.
She churns them slowly, flashing bright green eyes;
then minces “Camel Walk” to tantalize
as ankle bracelets make a tinkling sound.
With bills in hand, men beckon with a glance.
She shimmies, jingling toward them in dim light;
then spins and thrusts her pelvis right, left, right.
Seduction of delight - her belly dance.
For Barbara Gorelick's "May I Have This Dance?" Contest
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2011
A stairway of tinted boulders reveals
The fable of old gods marking a past,
Etched on tall red-stones divinely claimed…
And as I ascend to touch a warm glow,
My feet quiver among hallowed mounds
Of blazing rocks, of sacred pillars.
In awe, I listen to Jordan’s songs
As one city’s heart flames through Siq winds
Humming through early noon’s desert trail
Which climb inside my pulsed breath…until
Tears stumble into a warm prayer
On a rosy frame of blest temples.
Journeying to Petra silences me,
From tribal gems and inlay jars soaked in moonlit dust
To camel rides with Beduoins exploring a grandeur
I can only own within my thoughts…
For its mystique spreads on life’s essence
Where I greet the humble soul within.
Foreign Travel Contest
For Thvia Shetley
City of Petra, Jordan-- one of the 7 wonders of the world
*Siq-- the entrance that lies between
Petra's red-hued mountains
Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2015
We are so different
I am smart, you are less so
I am a man, you are a woman
I am trump, you are poor
I am beautiful, you live in a sewer
I have castles, you’re lucky to have drawers
I am peaceful, you are the extremist
I have armies, you have child suicide bombers
I have coffee, you have tea
See the difference between you and me?
I wear clothes under my head, you wear masks over
I sing songs in my sanctuary, while you chant the jihad
I have my god who is righteous; you have a god that sings of terror
My god is great, yours is a fraud
I ride in a limo, you ride a gay camel
I drink fine whiskey, you smoke camel fags
We you see… are as different
As night is to day
As sun is to moon
As Cain is to Abel
I own the castle you live in the stable
Goats and hogs your only staple
Now when we were in the hospital
Me so much better than you, you see
Both our sons sick of leukemia
You being so different and less than me
You cried, and you wept, and you wished yourself dead
If your child should live, you'd give all you ever had
Its then I saw, I’d do exactly the same
When you offered me a tissue
I confess I felt a wee little shame
Whatever hate you may or may not have had
Lifted, when you saw the child was your only lad
And when I saw this humble startling revelation
I realized how narrow and condescending I was behaving
So maybe we both learned a lesson of Job
A pity such sadness and pain had to bring
The realization to us both
We are not so different after all
We now drink tea in the olive gardens
Telling the young if they chose to listen
There is a better path, of happier wisdom
By embracing your fellow man
No matter race, color or convictions
Start with a smile
Make it last more than a mile
Great things happen
When us, the people take action
Of this world
Thank you Charmaine for the constant inspiration!
Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2016
It’s been a long day beneath hot sun,
with sunset looming and daylight done,
came across water with a stand of trees,
deep in shadow with a zephyr breeze;
a perfect place to camp for the night,
joined by galahs in the fading light,
with swag rolled out near a cooking fire,
heating up a damper and then retire.
Stars like crystal light the outback sky,
way out here they don’t seem so high,
Dingoes howl beyond a red sand dune,
a mopoke hoots ‘neath a silver moon.
And through the night as I try to sleep,
the night feeders either call or creep,
could there be a pig or a kangaroo?
maybe a camel or an old emu.
Sunrise breaks on my morning camp,
The sky is lemon and leaves are damp.
I poke the ash and I grass the fire,
add kindling and the flames reach higher.
I hear the call of a warbling wren,
a butcherbird and a water hen.
There’s nothing better than bird song,
by a campfire near a billabong.
The billy boils for a cup of tea,
bacon and eggs sit upon my knee,
already the thermals are in the sky,
a wedge-tailed eagle is soaring high…
passing by with babbling words,
is a feeding family of apostle birds,
all quite content to stop for a chat,
as long as I feed them bacon fat.
Sunrise has lifted on my morning camp,
the suns’ in the sky, now nothing damp,
I roll my swag and I douse the fire,
with the campsite left as it was prior
for the budgerigar and the cockatoo,
or a flock of redrumps passing through.
I won’t see them for I’m on my way;
perhaps next year on another day.
Copyright © Lindsay Laurie | Year Posted 2015
slicked with sweat,
and hearing the locusts’ cries deep in my neck,
I stood over the remains of Sal Paradise.
The spotty grass around the tombstone
was browned and littered
with trodden Camel filters
and corroded bottle caps.
I reached into my inspired rucksack
and discovered a Deutchmark,
forgotten like a sleepy drunk at a tavern.
I ceremonially placed it on the granite-
amid the years
and a crusty half-empty whiskey bottle
a different friend had left.
I hunched over the grave,
my head bowed,
but not really praying or thinking
And now I sit across the street,
seated by the window
in a little Italian restaurant.
I am the lone customer,
ensconced by piped-in light FM muzak.
Copyright © Matt Kindelmann | Year Posted 2006
While waiting at the river Styx, in twisted time untaught,
from branches of the gallows tree, in recollections wrought,
your soul, a beggar’s blanket, hangs in crazy quilted knots,
with dangling pearls and diamond studs in dripping crimson clots,
midst gaping wounds and bulging eyes like fouling apricots,
for wrapped like rope around your throat’s the Reaper’s grim garrote.
"It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of God." (Matthew 19:24)
Copyright © Terry O'Leary | Year Posted 2012
Whatever turns your crank
Whatever tickles your pickle
Whatever dunks your donut
Whatever waxes your dolphin
Whatever buffs your Buddha
Whatever pops your cork
Whatever pets your monkey
Whatever frosts your cookies
Whatever spills your pills
Whatever trips your trigger
Whatever humps your camel
Whatever melts your chocolate
Whatever peels your onion
Whatever chafes your carrot
Whatever flops your mop
Whatever rocks your socks
Whatever teeters your totter
Whatever milks your goat
Whatever pings your pong
Whatever peels your banana
Whatever blows your nozzle
Whatever tips your canoe
Whatever flicks your switch
Whatever zips your zipper
Whatever blows your stack
Whatever... whatever... whatever!
© Jack Ellison 2014
Copyright © Jack Ellison | Year Posted 2014
Cant lift my eyes beyond half past seven anymore
Nay! I do not wish to see...
Past hyphens and inverted commas
Lies and more catastrophe
Ambidextrous clock with appalling brevity
The second hand throws away society
Caught on the hook of an apostrophe
Hit and run humanity
With what shall I beseech thee?
Amix with soot and grime am I today
I painted me....! I mascara'd me!
Not this... warpaint for smudges
A discard of society
Sunk in dank mediocrity
Left to dream on the periphery
Sacked and sold with all their niceties
And pensioned off into obscurity
Cascading through the fingers of our hands
Groans the running Namib sands
Camel plods along ignoring facts
Dali's clock is molten wax - a mystery
For as Terrabytes and Megabitten memory
Omits to call- forgets to visit me
Copyright © Jannie Breedt | Year Posted 2016
"Today you are You, that is truer than true. There is no one alive who is Youer than You"
I studied real hard the youness of you
I paid close attention to the things that you do
No detail too small, I even learned how you chew
I eat what you eat! I love camel stew
I walk your walk, I have your unique style
I've walked in your shoes, for many a mile
Look at my face, the twinkle in my eye
I have your mischevious look and I own your smile
But now dear friend, you are deader than dead
I'm with your lovely bride and sleeping in your bed
She thinks I'm you, because I say what you said
You at the bottom of a lake, weighted by lead
As time goes by, I'll become me-er than me
Because in the end, that's who I want to be
I hope she'll still love me, in time I will see
Being Youer than You, is the best insanity!
Written by: Richard Lamoureux
Channeling my Dark Suess!
This was a fun one Casarah.
Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2015
In my hand an empty pack of camel crushes... I smoked them all.
All the pacing from the stress has beat the pavement raw.
Anger from the moments of my son I never saw.
I'm so gone.
Because I've been holding it in for way too long.
And hashtag to my haters,I will spray you all away if you try to stop me from getting my hustle on.
And I'm not Kirsten Dunst but suckas bring it on.
I'm praying that the whole world pays attention to this song.
See snow the product did it first, but see this best it spoke to me.
And said "you could write a story on how rough your life could be.
And with every verse you spit, more haters get frikazied.
That's when motivation kicked in and I began to believe.
I'll show the population that my ryhmes are mega rad.
And show the child courts I can be a good dad.
And make for certain that I get to make my baby mama mad.
Because every brother out of Gary really ain't bad.
Copyright © Julian Miles | Year Posted 2015
Why drowning when there's
the ability to swim in me?
Why sleeping in the cold woods
with a match box in my Jacket
and an Axe below my head?
Why the self condemnation
when I'm a billion miles ahead of a billion?
What exactly do I see in my inner mirror?
Is Life embracing or pointing a finger at me?
I see a pretty one of huge significance
with effective duties like an Angel.
But also, I see the ugly one
dust to sand, stone to rock
that's just its living sequel.
I view a perspective
rough but sweet; challenging but interesting
which is exactly my gospel.
But then, I see them as temptations
and tests with no ability to repel.
I notice when walking through red coals
I never let my tears be my Life's panel
but the submission of my adaptation becomes so parallel.
I'm mind blowing and noticeable
like a newly-sewed apparel.
But day and night, I posses a tag with
just one label.
No matter the task to stay beautiful
nothing stops that quest to excel
but I see a limitation to
just a specific ordered function
like the ringing bell.
I'm staying elegant and attractive
making all long to be part of my counsel
but my usefulness, worth and confidence
no self awareness to propel.
Beginning as crude
coming out as a refined Jewel
but still, reality seems so cruel.
What exactly is my mirror saying?
Is my Life that of a Damsel or a Camel?
This, I just cannot tell!
Copyright © Funom Makama | Year Posted 2014
To a two humped camel
She must seem really odd
For her humps are both displaced
on the front of her strange bod
They must throw her off balance
as she walks on just two feet
They're sure to get in the way
Whenever she try's to eat
It also seems distracting
As she goes about her day
They're bouncing bouncing bouncing
In a most peculiar way
Why are those fellows drooling
As they watch her walking by
I'm sure the two humped camel
He must be wondering why
Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2016
A lipstick stained Camel butt, on the full ashtray rim
A golden earring on the floor, how does this story begin?
The Smith Corona silent, paper stuck in the machine
When someone ripped it out they left a mess to clean
An air ticket on the floor, unused it would appear
What happened to the owner something’s wrong that is clear?
A telephone receiver burring on the desktop
No one put it down, the call they didn’t stop
A tissue on the floor, all shredded up and wet
A sign of great misery, a mystery still as yet.
A newspaper screwed up and thrown upon a chair
A missing child is found, she had better get out of there.
A body found, a Camel butt by her side
The car ran off the road, what a way to die
The madam of murder and mayhem will see daylight no more
And now the devil’s a waiting to open his fiery door.
A lady looking lost, approaches a child alone
She dangles one gold earring, with a pretty stone
This is for you child if, you but come with me
Another child is missing, didn’t anybody see?
One earring, one cigarette butt, but she didn’t work alone
Her partner in crime, a woman warned her on the phone.
Destroy the ransom note the child has now been found
The ticket is now no good, we must move underground.
For those unsure and there are some, Camel are a brand of cigarette.
Copyright © Mandy Tams The Golden Girl | Year Posted 2014
we don't need materalistic things
we don't need wealth
Lord we just need you
and our health
we don't need boats or a big fast car
Lord we just need you where ever we are
we don't need fame or fortune
we don't need to be popular around our place
Lord you are all that we need
and your Grace
we dont need things that people come to steal kill and destroy
we don't need things that will wither away
for all theese things are unimporant
compared to what we share with you each and every day
our treasures are with you in heaven a great reward from you indeed
no matter what this world has to offer
Lord you're all that we need. Amen.
Luke 18 : 25 Indeed, it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a
rich man to enter the kingdom of God."
Lule 12 : 31 - 34
Copyright © diane christian | Year Posted 2009
My eyes can see
That the sand is like sea
And it stretches to the end of my mind
On a ship set to sail
with four legs and a tail
Tishmandu I set out to find
Now the wind is of sand
and can lend a hand
in tearing the flesh from your bone
So your head you keep wrapped
your snaps keep snapped
and you never travel alone
The heat at midday
is to kill and waylay
if the body and soul are not one
So you pray to the east
and prepare for slim feast
begging passage under full sun
Caravan of the seed
born on camels that breed
in an endless march between wells
Over lost count of dunes
under God and full moons
blessing passage with incense and bells
At the end of the day
when gold turns to grey
and the stars brighten the skies
A device is brought forth
to determine true north
and the path where Tishmandu lies
On the fortieth morn
pressing lips to the horn
a signal beckons us wake
Leaving water behind
on a course now refined
the final leagues we must take
Tishmandu is a place
where a white mans face
has never been seen or allowed
But the people have need
and my service agreed
in a land under sky without cloud
Like feathers of blue
in the distance I view
the flags on top of the walls
Though my limbs are worn
my very fabric is torn
I move towards Tishmandu halls
At last in the shade
a walled shelter is bade
I meet with the maker of rules
A service I bring
but to rules I must cling
or a tortures price must be paid
Twenty days and seven
in the passes of heaven
I treated the sick and the lame
With rules on my mind
the medicines I grind
The devil of Tish for to tame
As I washed the sick
and avoided blunt stick
the God of the desert did smile
For the people made well
in this fortified hell
where spirit is subject to trial
In the end I am paid
for the journey I made
and the healing and medicine new
On my camel back
salted meats in my pack
I Bid farewell to Tishmandu
Copyright © Ray Mattos | Year Posted 2011
Walk everywhere. Go on long sea voyages;
Ask for days like symphonies of slow music,
banks of blue flowers to wrap you in the moment.
Become immersed in watching clouds
spiders building their webs.
Travel by the slowest modes of transport.
Ride a camel, camp out in the desert.
Move into a museum and declare it real time.
Dress in a crinoline. Decorate your room with
fossils. Read endless books- make your own wine .
Churn your own butter. Grow a garden.
When all else fails,
pull the hands off clocks. Declare it a crime to tell
Hang curtains on the daylight. Hold back the sea.
Ruin the sun and cycles that turn,
annihilate the moon - close the doors on eternity.
Copyright © Suzanne Delaney | Year Posted 2013
These are just for fun...I am trying my hand at them!
DROMEDARY'S NAIL POLISH
SMALL UNSENTIMENTAL HORSE
WILD DOG LANGUAGE
HOG'S MUSIC PLAY DATE
FELINE HEAD WEAR
Copyright © Deb Wilson | Year Posted 2013
In the scorching sun of the wild Sahara
Where the dunes shower like The Falling Niagara
And the black scorpion so eager for flesh
Roams the desert as if on African safari
The winds howling in the void wilderness
A dead silence fills the holes of emptiness
A tingling rattle is heard behind a dune
The stinging snake gives a deadly tune
From afar looms a misty mirage silhouette
Lumbering along with blaring clarinet
The music of which gives a poetic hint
That the desert is a sea of sparking glint
The flashes show and hide a caravanserai
Going through the wild in a lined array
Seeking an oasis to unload and sojourn
Before leaving the sands in the next morn
Again the convoy resumes the long voyage
A camel is known as the ship of the desert
Sailing through vast seas of golden sands
With light steps in resolute straight trends
The caravanserai passes and the sands move
The places change and the scorpion does rove
The winds still howl in empty space and loose
A ship has passed has left a wake after a cruise
The flock travels in never ending quest
For water for peace and for the best
Once there is an oasis there we shall rest
The sun of life is burning it is just a test
Copyright © Lonely Shepherd | Year Posted 2017
I’m taking my camel to town,
do you got a problem with that?
I’m gonna get him some fresh water
and clean provender
What cha say,
they don’t sell to his kind?!
He’s the finest mottled brown,
this side of the Sahara desert sand
This camel got the blackest spots
Proof that the sun
calls him his friend
While I’m in town,
I’m gonna buy my beautiful animal
a white straw hat
Do you have a problem with that?
Copyright © Freddie Robinson Jr. | Year Posted 2017
Where'd you go?
oh where did you go
my precious camel toe?
played me like a fiddle
with your bubbly middle
you're such a skanky hoe
but I love you so
we had magic
we had fire
purple sweatpants my desire
come back camel toe
victory! camel toe
you're the villain
you're the winner
with your puffy
you're my sassy hoe
you're my Christmas snow
gone like cold wind blows
with your return
my member grows
I miss my camel toe
where'd you go?
Copyright © JSLambert Mister ROBOTO | Year Posted 2012
Not advertising that flippant flick. I just want to know
where my blooming flivver is. It ruffles my feathers no
end to find out, when exiting the embassy,
that my buggy's whereabouts are a mystery.
I must meet Sherry 'cause her right toe
wants a sweet kiss. Did the camel tow
my car? That blasted mammal! Sherry's dear
foot can't wait! Please do not tell me the deer
took my buggy! That son of a Witch
me with a very pricey mulct which
Not another loathsome tax
to put up with! Oh no, Lord, please!
I beg thou hearken to my pleas!
Now, let's come down to tin tacks.
I need my bloody car! A choice bass
cooked by Sherry awaits me. The crass
specimen who's got my car is so base,
and I'm so cross! The camel has a bass
voice that creeps me out! I do not want to
deal with him. I cannot even stomach two
secs the sight of the deer. He's ugly too.
On returning to his flat, mad as a goat,
Ivo found on the door, the following note:
I hereby inform you that your awfully and
illegally parked streetcar has been impounded.
Come pick it up at the City Hall and
bring cash with you for there's a fine. 8 hundred
The Crane from Ukraine.
Blimey! That heartless crane! I won't give her a buck!
Now I know the ruffians weren't the camel and the buck.
Well, let's be fair, it wouldn't be cricket to pass the buck.
I didn't park properly. It's my fault. That's it. I will not buck
at the fine.
I got my car back for free. How? l told the crane;
"I'm in a hurry to meet Sherry who needs me to canoodle
her feet. I'll have tonight for dinner a bass fish with noodles."
"If a foot massage like the ones I used to get in Ukraine.
you give me, I will be happy to call off the mulct." said she.
I pleased her feet very much. She loved it. Then we got some tea.
I'm on my way home to eat some bass,
with my beloved and awesome lass.
It's so nice to be able to dine
without having paid that gruesome fine.
Copyright © Ivo Cosentino | Year Posted 2014
SPOT THE HOMONYMS
For the Homonyms are full of spots!
We were young and wore black
During the war we were under attack
We wear bright clothes now
Where were we?
I thought we were the prey
But now where do I go to pray?
The enemy was there all the time
Is it true they’re so different?
Are we their enemies too?
Am I allowed to scream aloud?
I’ve seen the scene and it doesn’t make sense
Use your senses, can you hear me here?
The son was born under the sun
As the band was banned for being too loud
Now we sit stationary working to pay tax
In an office filled with stationary hanging notes with tacks
My throat was hoarse as I rode the horse
On the road to get the plain old plane across the plane to the sea
I didn’t see that the cereal I ate was cheap
The serial numbers I read made the birds cheep
I groan and groan now I’m fully grown
The bold man bowled his final ball
As the lady danced at the fancy ball
Then they got together and ate at eight
On the fifteenth storey they read the story
About the man without soul who savored his meat, a juicy steak
And maybe they will meet a savior nailed to a stake by the soles of its feet.
The Jew licked the dew from the grass
As he waited for the money that was due
I don’t want to go any farther Father
It’s not my job to find the source of the tomato sauce.
I’d rather eat my mousse with this hairy moose
Who knows how big is the nose of a goose?
Hopefully the knight will save us from this dreadful night.
I read the red book while all the rest took a rest.
It’s not my role to continuously roll down hill
Just because I never paid the bill for the birds broken bill
I sighed as the hare with the long hair rolled to its side
So I made the maid alter her plans as she approached the alter
I can walk very far because I’ve got big feet
Which really isn’t such an amazing feat?
He was in a fell mood as he fell of his seat
But he’ll surely heal when they fix his broken heel.
All I really want is a piece of peace
The bee just wants to be while all we want is to go for a wee
You were right to write that letter to complain about the missing letter
I mean if you miss out the H from where how would they know where we were
No they wouldn't know, so it just goes to show.
Are you going to the animal circus show too?
I went and thought it was great but my friend thought is started to grate
I fed the camel a carrot but it nearly ate my 16 carat ring, then i was fed up.
And the pores on my skin opened up as the tiger paused standing on its paws.
Copyright © Steve Humphries Artist | Year Posted 2014
THE FIRST TIME I SAW VERA…
I saw: A scrawny, wrinkled, little thing with sallow, wrinkled skin, a head of fine white hair that looked like a dandelion gone to seed, and a pair of faded blue eyes that still managed to twinkle.
A REAL BEAUTY WHEN SHE WAS YOUNG, they told me.
There she sat in an old Lazy Boy Recliner, beneath a halo of floating blue smoke, lips stuck to the tail end of a Camel butt, as ashes fell onto her already pockmarked terrycloth bathrobe.
With a toothless grin, she smiled at me, then coughed up what sounded like gravel as she thumped her chest with a balled up fist until the coughing finally ceased; whereupon she made another halo that rose high into the air…and fell apart.
So….this was what an EARTHBOUND AGNEL looked like…NOT AT ALL WHAT I EXPECTED.
From all accounts told to me, Vera had spent most of her life doing without so she could give to others less fortunate then herself, with the one exception: the money she spent on her CAMELS…Oh! How she loved them. She loved the feel of them, the smell of them and the sense of REWARD they gave her in exchange for all her good deeds.
EVERYONE including ME, tried to tell her the relationship she had with them was unhealthy, but she refused to listen, claiming she had been kissin their butts for over 50 years, and it gave her great pleasure...thank you very much! All this, she sputtered as I swept up their droppings from the floor.
For two more years I swept up their droppings as Vera advanced from a Lazy Boy Recliner to a wheelchair...still the Camel’s remained. They were her loyal companions. Day in and day out, they were always by her side, especially on those lonely nights when there was no one else to keep her company.
MANY, MANY TIMES over those two years, I TRIED to convince her to let them go …BUT...she was addicted to that toxic relationship in MIND, BODY and SOUL.
Still, I PRAYED she would come to her senses, but all in vain.
It was a rainy morning in September when…THE CHARRED REMAINS of this once EARTH BOUND ANGEL, were found in the smoldering ashes, after she had finally let go of her last Camel while falling asleep.
Written: September 15, 2014
Author: Elaine George
Author’s Note: Every years in the US of A, over 1000 smokers and non-smokers
Die in home fires caused by smoking.
Copyright © Elaine George | Year Posted 2014