Smoke
Smoke
A cigarette lights,
The flame awakens.
The dancer rises
In nicotine’s delight.
As it dances over fingers,
This one question in me lingers:
How can this illusive figure,
Be so evil deep inside?
His companion gave us freedom,
From the hardships of the wild.
Yet this small and lucid dancer
Seems to captivate us all.
As it moves with eager hunger,
On its white translucent wings
Towards our lungs
Where it shall shatter
That which makes our voices sing.
A cigarette lights,
The flame awakens.
The dancer rises
In nicotine’s delight.
As it dances over fingers,
This one question in me lingers:
How can this illusive figure,
Be so evil deep inside?
His companion gave us freedom,
From the hardships of the wild.
Yet this small and lucid dancer
Seems to captivate us all.
As it moves with eager hunger,
On its white translucent wings
Towards our lungs
Where it shall shatter
That which makes our voices sing.
Reacties op dit gedicht
| Benjamin de Rooy: | Donderdag, april 19, 2001 15:28 |
| Ben het er mee eens. Good from the outside, evil from the inside. Ben |
|
| danielle: | Donderdag, april 19, 2001 07:20 |
| zeer herkenbaar...helaas! X Daantje |
|
Over dit gedicht
| Auteur: guess | 
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| Gecontroleerd door: | ||
| Gepubliceerd op: 19 april 2001 | ||
| Thema's: | ||