Poetry: Falling Ashes
47
Ashes fall from my cigarette.
I
realize that it has started to
burn my hand.
Snuffing out the
butt in an achingly
overflowing ashtray. Brought back
to the
world at hand.
Lost in thought.
Pleasant memories
often hurt
more than caustic ones.
I feel the fire,
light the
flame.
Cigarettes are all that's left.
CommentsLoading...
Interesting progression...sad acceptance at the end...I like your sense of " in the present "...Larry
This particular work means so much to me. I connect so deeply to it. I'm sorry the hurt that inspired you to write it. But I'm grateful for the product of your pain, because it comforts me to know that someone understands. I love you.
Nice, Jack. I'd love to see you lengthen your poems a little...so I could enjoy them a moment or two longer. Thanks for answering my question on Prose vs Rhyming poetry.












jenni1453 2 years ago
This has always been one of my favorites! I love your work. Keep writing.