As I walk along that final stretch, I ask "why?"
I touch the petals of the flower going dry.
In the air, I smell the stench of cancer decay,
lingering hour upon hour, deterring my way.
I hate my walk has pulled me toward this shadow,
So, I plug a twist of sweet-smelling tobacco
in my old meerschaum pipe.
As it begins to snow,
I feel the aches and pains starting to slowly grow,
I wince and groan,
looking up in the dark grey sky,
my soul screams a mournful cry, I ask, "why God why?"
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| Writing Prompt |
Write a poem in any form or style, with any subject or emotion but must include the following words:
air - hate - flower - pipe - final - cry
Where do these words take you?? |
Author Notes
Contest requirement: Poem any style using these words:
air - hate - flower - pipe - final - cry
My Rythmning Poem 12 syllables per stanza aabbccddee
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