Poem Hunter
Dear Fag
(04 October 1943 / Germany)

Dear Fag

Dear cigarette, are you my friend?
Your lovely smiles, are they for me?
The filter on your other end,
does it protect, is it the key
to disallowing noxious gases
from occupying healthy lungs?
I see, when wearing reading glasses
small cuts that look like ladder rungs,
inside your smooth and shiny filter.
The number of those cuts decides
how toxic, let's say out of kilter,
the puffs will be to my insides.
So tell me, handsome cigarette,
could it be true what I have heard,
that I should think and smoke instead
a colourful, though dried out turd?
Cause cigarettes are coffin nails:
You smoke enough, they close the lid,
and turds originate near tails...
I'm talking to my youngest kid!

Perhaps my words for smoky ears
will penetrate the haze,
prevent a tragedy through fears
that years cannot erase.

User Rating: 2,9 / 5 ( 7 votes ) 5

Comments (5)

A little preachy for my taste, but your motives for writing it are laudable.
Thanks, guys for the kind comments, no Dan I am neither a fag nor do I smoke them. But my kid does. H
Yes Herbert...very well put together...and Allan...yes...I too remember this old term for a cig...but had forgotten...I thought...Hmmm, Herbert, this ought to be interesting... Lare
Hey Herbert, your smokin' ! ! ! !
very good herbert, when i saw the heading i thought shit what is it all about alfie i nearly forgot the term of endearment for cigarette, i thought oh boy a poem on fruit Warm regards allan