Pale porcelain fingers,
Gripping tightly onto "the stick"
Inhaling that first breath of charcoal smoke,
And gasping for clean cerulean air.
Help is calling in a faded tone.
Her warm, delicate smirk
Illuminates any midnight coloured room,
Free as an eagle,
She soars.
Author notes
Pic Inspiration
A contest entry
- Entertain me [freeverse] ♥ by whiterabbit..
330 points, ended June 29, 2008, 25 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Tell Me How You Feel..
Comments
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FIRST THOUGHTS
This seems to be a single lady in a night club. It sounds as though she may be a smoker using a cigarette holder (stick). I can picture her in my minds eye sitting on a piano with that cigarette, and maybe a tad bit inebriated. How close is that?
Very good write, please let me know if I’m correct, and thanks for sharing.
Ron
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"the stick" --
how perverse!!! what on earth are you talking about?? pfff corrupted minds.. *tisk*
just playing.. you must mean dill picklesss yayyyy
~Beautifully penned poncho!
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