Carcinoma Poem by Usha Pisharody
Carcinoma
My hand stretches out
Unbiddingly -
Involuntarily
to reach for the long slim
Cigarette.
Shaking fingers
burn it to life;
scorching it
crumbling it to ashes
taking its breath away
to make me feel.
The white cloud
streams free -
after capture in
rotting lungs.
I know-
I know-
My time has come
as it meant to
relentlessly-
Crushed out like the
last remains of a long
slim cigarette;
The hot orange
stifled to grey ash.
And still I do it.
Dear god -
Still I do it.
7 March, '84
This one touched my heart, truth is picturasied in realistic words, a hobby to habit to addiction and offer life at the cost price, a message to all those cross lines, great poem
Love your poem, Usha. Wonderful (if resigned) ending. You've captured the predicament as effectively as the toxic tobacco has captured you! F
the plight and mental torture of a smoker brought out very well....
carcinoma did you say? and strill i do it/dear God -/still i do it. Plese try, don't do it. carcinoma is serious business. a poem about the darkness of smoke
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/24/2024 10:30:38 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Smokers should post this poem on their walls to warn them of CARCINOMA! High marks.