There are 56 articles on this title. You are reading the article ranked and rated #16 by Helium's members.
I lay in the bed and stare at the wall
Exercise and bounce a ball
But still I can't find release.
I lick a sucker and chew some gum
Pace the floor and twiddle my thumbs
But Lord it sure has a hold on me.
Finally I go to sleep
The only place I get any peace
And then it becomes a dream.
Legions there are armed with guns
Demanding that I light one
And then I wake up with a scream.
Kicking the habit's so hard to do
When everywhere one's staring at you
Laughing and telling you please won't you smoke me?
But then I look it square in the butt
And say I think I've had enough
Because you're going to be the death of me.
Learn more about this author, Sylvia Morrison.
Click here to send this author comments or questions.
Below are the top articles rated and ranked by Helium members on:
by Ron Lester
Puff away at that tobacco stick,
watch as stress fades away-
the neatest little trick
nearly five dollars will pay;
There is
Twit!
Smell lingers
Brown fingers
Burn holes
All my clothes
Throat scratches
Out of matches
Morning hack
Empty pack
What a twit!
I
Do I smoke? Why not give it a try?
I Can think of better things to buy
Why, why for goodness sakes
When I can learn from other
I am in a cloudy room.
It is full of smoke.
Everyone is puffing cigarettes.
I hear someone begin to choke.
They inhale each taste
Of all the pubs in all the world, you had to enter mine
I Won't permit your passive smoke
It makes my patrons gag and choke
I
View All Articles on:
Poetry: Smoking
Add your voice
Know something about Poetry: Smoking?
We want to hear your view.
Write now!
Featured Partner
Environment Northeast (ENE) has partnered with Helium, giving you the chance to write for a cause. Browse ENE's ...more
hide