01-18-2014, 01:45 AM
It's easy to infer that Sky Blue drum is a brand of tobacco, so no worries there.
You need to work on your use of rhyme. Its hard to explain what separates a good rhyme from a bad one, but you are looking for something that isn't too forced or obvious. "cancer's inciter" is an example of one that seems too forced.
The Cremater
With a wisp I peel a paper from ever well prepared packet. you can replace "ever" with "the" or "a". It isn't really serving a purpose and replacing it will help the flow.
Slip the small cotton safety cylinder from its sleeve I agree with Beauford about eliminating either "cotton" or "safety". Eliminating "small" is another option.
and slide it, between forefinger and thumb,
Where already nestled is a stiff pinch of Sky Blue Drum.
Two, perhaps three rolls, a quick fold, a swift flick
and a right to left lick seals the gum on this deadly little jacket.
Ch-ch, ch-clip
goes my lighter, blue and amber igniter, cancer's inciter.
Slowly I inhale. Dry tobacco crackles in the heat,
And cackles at his relaxing deceit.
Ghostly tendrils swirl and entwine my mind with such calming confusion
That I notice not his deathly intrusions.
Blindly I suck another burning breath of bronchial bad luck. maybe "bad bronchial luck" instead? Also, consider eliminating "Blindly" or maybe change it to "Blind, ". Right now it's a bit awkward rhythmically.
Blood vessels swell. Circulation slows.
He feathers numbness into my toes and I blame the weather as they grow colder.
The wretched reek of his grey ashen wreath wrapped about my shoulders
Signals to all but I that I am getting older. Rapidly.
I've not yet stubbed by time he embeds the macabre dread;
That by his wicked wish I am already dead.
In the grasp of his fetid mist I will gasp
and suffocate beneath his weight,
And curse with a despairing final wheeze from decrepit lungs
The habit that began with such ease when I was so young.
So I ask myself,
"If that's what's to come,
What's the damn harm in having another one?"
And that thought, right there, that casual swear,
That's when he won.
You need to work on your use of rhyme. Its hard to explain what separates a good rhyme from a bad one, but you are looking for something that isn't too forced or obvious. "cancer's inciter" is an example of one that seems too forced.
The Cremater
With a wisp I peel a paper from ever well prepared packet. you can replace "ever" with "the" or "a". It isn't really serving a purpose and replacing it will help the flow.
Slip the small cotton safety cylinder from its sleeve I agree with Beauford about eliminating either "cotton" or "safety". Eliminating "small" is another option.
and slide it, between forefinger and thumb,
Where already nestled is a stiff pinch of Sky Blue Drum.
Two, perhaps three rolls, a quick fold, a swift flick
and a right to left lick seals the gum on this deadly little jacket.
Ch-ch, ch-clip
goes my lighter, blue and amber igniter, cancer's inciter.
Slowly I inhale. Dry tobacco crackles in the heat,
And cackles at his relaxing deceit.
Ghostly tendrils swirl and entwine my mind with such calming confusion
That I notice not his deathly intrusions.
Blindly I suck another burning breath of bronchial bad luck. maybe "bad bronchial luck" instead? Also, consider eliminating "Blindly" or maybe change it to "Blind, ". Right now it's a bit awkward rhythmically.
Blood vessels swell. Circulation slows.
He feathers numbness into my toes and I blame the weather as they grow colder.
The wretched reek of his grey ashen wreath wrapped about my shoulders
Signals to all but I that I am getting older. Rapidly.
I've not yet stubbed by time he embeds the macabre dread;
That by his wicked wish I am already dead.
In the grasp of his fetid mist I will gasp
and suffocate beneath his weight,
And curse with a despairing final wheeze from decrepit lungs
The habit that began with such ease when I was so young.
So I ask myself,
"If that's what's to come,
What's the damn harm in having another one?"
And that thought, right there, that casual swear,
That's when he won.