He leans into the crowded bar,
lights a fine cigar he cannot afford,
inhales deeply, exhales
a scented cloud of Jamaican seed,
indifferent to the scowls,
the saloon he reasons
the smoker’s last refuge.
He recalls that the weed the Indians
called uppowac, burned in sacrifice to their gods,
ashes scattered on the wind
to ward off demons,
was Sir Walter Raleigh’s gift
to the civilized world.
He is reminded of the serving man
who seeing the smoke belched
from Raleigh’s mouth
threw a tankard of ale in Sir Walter’s face,
ran through the manor halls bellowing
my master’s on fire.
He notices his neighbor’s smile
when a wayward ash burns a tiny hole
in the sleeve of his new sweater,
asks the bartender to pour his misocapnist neighbor
whatever he’s drinking,
tries not to cough,
takes his last puff from his last cigar
and suffumigates the bar.
cough cough cough....oh give me some air ;)
do you smoke stogies? :)
I was taken by your words to this piano bar...like stepping back into time (it is in a nearby town too)
If Only He Smoked A Pipe :) I Love The Smell of Cherry tabaco...sigh so intoxicating :)
Mucg Love & No More Stogies!!
"and suffumigates the bar"
I had to grin because those things stink bad I tell you :)
Embraced ~ Embrassé
Vickie
This is great for the senses. What on earth do "suffumigates" and "misocapnist" mean? I'm breaking them up-- hold on there... Did you make these up? I'm going to guess that "suffumigate" means to fill with smoke-- suff meaning under, but usually contexed to mean throughout, and fumigate, coming from fumar-- to smoke... okay, on to the next word "misocapnist" This must be something like a misogynist-- only nursing his hatred of all with a night cap? Am I even close? Fun word play. Great visuals, and a great story. --Charlie
Reviewed by blue soplain (Reader)
Reviewed on August 17, 2008
i almost feel woozy from inhaling these visions of yours; and i can smell the words themselves mingling with each image you conjure from mere smoke. .. chimeras of life and yesterday always has breathed much heavier than today.
youve filled my lungs with the air of grey smoky nooses and slightly quivering rings of ceremony and servitude in the memory's half.light. .. .
some kind of shaman to the night, and to melancholia. ..
like a tattoo of experience.
powerfull puff n stuff.
nessa+
Makes me want to take up smoking again!:) Not really, but I do have fond memories. Cigarettes were crutches, but they were p.d.good 'uns. (This was before the tobacco companies added so much, er, bad stuff. Plus most of us were ignorant about the long-term
consequences.) Smoked the odd cigar,an' it wasn't bad! Thank you for this amusing and evocative piece. <3 'Pea <3 -- PS: If you can find the time and don't mind, please tell me what "misocapnist" means. Thanks!
"He is reminded of the serving man who seeing the smoke belched from Raleigh’s mouth threw a tankard of ale in Sir Walter’s face, ran through the manor halls bellowing my master’s on fire."
Did that really happen? It doesn't matter. It's a vivid detail (Heck, it's a great detail worth a pile of gold or should I say tobacco?). Loved the poem. This ode to the American Indian revenge on the white man (or the world for that matter) that took their land and killed their kin. How many hundreds of millions die each year due to smoking? I'm glad I never took up the weed although the twenty year old C-Rations I opened and ate in Vietnam all had five complementary cigarettes and I did try a few "but I never inhaled". :D
The gifted and fascinating Urban Poet, Asa D Seeley, once again speaks. He introduces a New Genre of Poetry...Reality Confrontation. Juxtaposed with Essay and staying true to his unique style, Asa brings a breath of...fresh air...to the world of poet
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smoke ring floating in the air to you Gene
stan
do you smoke stogies? :)
I was taken by your words to this piano bar...like stepping back into time (it is in a nearby town too)
If Only He Smoked A Pipe :) I Love The Smell of Cherry tabaco...sigh so intoxicating :)
Mucg Love & No More Stogies!!
"and suffumigates the bar"
I had to grin because those things stink bad I tell you :)
Embraced ~ Embrassé
Vickie
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.
youve filled my lungs with the air of grey smoky nooses and slightly quivering rings of ceremony and servitude in the memory's half.light. .. .
some kind of shaman to the night, and to melancholia. ..
like a tattoo of experience.
powerfull puff n stuff.
nessa+
consequences.) Smoked the odd cigar,an' it wasn't bad! Thank you for this amusing and evocative piece. <3 'Pea <3 -- PS: If you can find the time and don't mind, please tell me what "misocapnist" means. Thanks!
Newfie hugs, Rose
Did that really happen? It doesn't matter. It's a vivid detail (Heck, it's a great detail worth a pile of gold or should I say tobacco?). Loved the poem. This ode to the American Indian revenge on the white man (or the world for that matter) that took their land and killed their kin. How many hundreds of millions die each year due to smoking? I'm glad I never took up the weed although the twenty year old C-Rations I opened and ate in Vietnam all had five complementary cigarettes and I did try a few "but I never inhaled". :D