"Today," says Glo/NaPoWriMo, "we challenge you to write a poem that takes the form of a warning label . . . for yourself!"
How Much Better Could You Have Lived Your Life
You smoked—nicotine, that is—at fourteen.
Your first hangover happened three years later.
How many times
have your wings been singed by the flames of addiction?
have you lost/gained/lost/gained/lost/gained weight?
have you wished you'd done things differently?
No matter what you're doing, you're distractible.
Can't put an old head on young shoulders.
Too soon old, too late smart.
There are not enough aphorisms to save you.
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| Here I am with a deck of Aunt Nancy's smokes. I'd have used this photo had I found it first! |
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2 comments:
I love this poem, Linda. Way to go! With nothing in my pocket, I salute you. Wishing you all the best! I might be in Nanaimo this summer. How close are you? I might be coming by (a friend's) boat. Sending you love- Lyn
Lyn! Thank you for reading, and for your lovely comments. I'm not close to Nanaimo unless I happen to be down that way, which geographically means 'over that way' as I'm in Castlegar which is basically just over the border, north of Spokane. Would love to see you again sometime. Love back atcha!
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