Margaret Baker

Margaret Baker Poems

If you smoke fourty cigarettes a day.
You won't feel life ebb away.
But slow and sure the signs are there
Brittle nails and greying hair
...

2.

An old man sat upon a chair,
Fingers twisting his pure white hair,
Suddenly he gets up, throwing down his coffee cup.
Age he thinks is so unjust.
...

The Best Poem Of Margaret Baker

The Life And Death Of A Cigarette

If you smoke fourty cigarettes a day.
You won't feel life ebb away.
But slow and sure the signs are there
Brittle nails and greying hair
Don't make out, you do not care,
About wether it's right or wether it's fair.
The wrinkles sallow looks of age,
Which grow quickly for a weekly wage.
Your lung in pieces rotted away
The pain the hurt and the decay.
All this to be macho fan Looking
Good, but feeling wan. Then your
Dead, here no more rotten to
the inner core. To late to tell
Them what they've done. You have
Lost. The cigarettes have won.

Margaret Baker Comments

Margaret Isobel Baker 30 January 2018

I especially like the poem about the cigarette. It is a benefit socially. As an ex smoker and fellow poet, I can't help wishing I had written your poem. Thank you

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