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Rated: E · Poetry · Experience · #2086038
Poetic Traditions Poetry Contest entry Round 9

It was Saturday night with naught to do but drift,
I hit up a friend for a town bound lift,
He said, "Okay, but I need to stop on the way,"
That's how I met a fun loving giant stray,
Named Stinky.

To a shoddy old apartment door we strolled,
I heard the muffled sound of loud rock and roll,
Inside Stinky and his hot girlfriend sat,
An enormous man that I'd give no scat,
Was Stinky.

His booming voice invited all to sit down,
He poured us each a shot of Royal Crown,
After toasting "Lick 'em" it didn't take long,
Before being passed a loaded single hit bong,
By Stinky.

Though deep in the heart of Seattle, I found,
We came from the same small Indiana town,
I suspected I'd aquired a lifelong friend
Buds until the night life came to an end,
For Stinky.

They say he died peacefully while sleeping in bed,
No matter how it happened, dead is dead,
He lived prepared to pass away at any time,
Sure to make Heaven even more sublime,
Was Stinky.

His scattered ashes now hallow the ground,
His laughter's in my ears, but when I look around,
My friend of forty years is no longer found,
Still I faintly hear the jovial sounds,
Of Stinky.

(24 Lines)
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