Volume 4, Number 5, Page 5


Yes, that's right. Simply put the lovely lines of this poem, T'baccy, back in their proper order using your knowledge of rhyme and meter and submit the corrected poem by 3/29/95. Good luck! (Be careful. There is one extra line which does not belong in the poem!)

T'Baccy

(A free form poem mourning the loss of youth and the current political climate)

When history wasn't snow
That pass (unnoticed) by
And choose a path to tread
When it sleeps below the earth

Why is he now a criminal
When politics demand
Oh the smell of lit t'baccy
Why must one go outside?

The beauty of the radish
It really doesn't make much sense
It makes me wonder 'xactly why
As it wafts up to my nose

And little boys with mittened hands
Have withered in the sun
And you when full of mirth
Makes me long for brighter days

When really it's the saddest things
The bright read golden berries
Why can't one smoke in public air?
And don't you see the irony

Now clasp inside them guns!
While I have become Me?
They have grown so tall
It seems that soon we must decide

He was once a neighbor boy
And curious about the fact
That smokers run and hide
We soon will all be dead.

That we have stayed so small
A youngster full of glee
Cannot compare to that of me
That people stop to cry
Reagan sucks


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