Best Up In Smoke Poems
truth steeped in lies is no truth at all - wind collaborates with smokestack
3/27/2019
I wonder how he's doing: if he's in the final throes?
I haven't seen him lately and there is no way to know.
I've heard he has a cancer in his lungs and in his brain.
I sit here and I pray that he's not in a lot of pain.
I used to plead quite often, when we were both still friends,
To end the smoking habit, before it ended him.
He would sneer and look at me like I was in disgrace,
Then laugh and blow a cloud of smoke directly toward my face.
Years went by and love evolved, as love will often do,
Then came the day I didn't care, if he smoked till he was blue.
The coughing every morning, deep hoarseness in his throat,
The clearing of his windpipe nearly every time he spoke.
His clothes and hair all reeking with nicotine and tar.
Far worse still, than even this, when trapped within his car.
There came a day I finally left because in my despair;
I felt I had to find a place where I could breathe the air.
I know it sounds that I have chose to keep myself immune:
Exempt from having empathy for one who’ll die so soon.
But I refuse to feel the pain of losing him again,
To the real love of his lessened life: his pale and slender friend.
And now there's little left to say, as he fights his final fight.
I’ll never say, “I told him so” . . I'm just sorry I was right!
PROFESSOR SILA, VICTOR SINCLAIR, AND ROCKY PATEL
were scheduled to visit ARTURO FUENTE at the DREW ESTATE in ASHTON.
However, the count of MONTE CRISTO stopped their trip at SAN MIGUEL
because of the possibilty of BROCATUS intercepting them and searching
them for PIRATE'S GOLD near the GRAYCLIFF off the ISLA DEL SOL.
He had the ROBUSTO to use a TORPEDO on their ship,
the PRESIDENTE CHURCHILL.
Their friend ALEC BRADLEY had heard of the plan while
speaking with DON PEPIN GARCIA as they were both seeking
VEGAS GOLD by playing BACCARAT. "AVE MARIA",
he cried..."what can we do but try to warn them."
However, they were already at sea, and the only way to reach
them was PERDOMO which was transmitted by DAVIDOFF
in a ROBUSTO BELICOSO manner. It took nearly 60 RINGS,
but he finally reached ROMEO Y JULIETA who then passed
their message via OLIVA on the PUROS INDIOS which
was sailing near CORONA.
He had been a member of the GURKHA brigade in WWII,
and given the CU-AVIAN, summoned his comrades
PADILLA, MACANUDO, and MADURO to help him stop
this attempt in the NUB. Using a DIESEL TORO, they
successfully sent a signal over the LA PERLA HABANA Mountains,
where DON RAFAEL stopped the DOMINICAN MADURO MELEE.
For the uneducated, all CAPS are names of Cigars, Cigar Companies,
or related to the industry.
Smokin' Joe Frazier,
A champion in my book;
Known for a patented wallop,
The Philadelphia left hook!
He never had the beauty,
Of a Muhammad Ali;
Frazier hit like a mammoth,
While Ali stung like a bee!
Bobbin' and weavin',
From side to side;
He never stopped punchin',
'Til the day he died!
Many years ago,
When I was just a kid;
The Fight Of The Century,
I remember what he did!
Ali was quick and flashy,
Adoring the role of a clown;
It was there in the fifteenth,
When Frazier knocked him down!
The two would meet again,
And another soon after;
A rivalry long enduring,
One of boxing's greatest chapters!
Sportin' those colorful trunks,
Way below the knees;
Folks all got their money's worth,
He was guaranteed to please!
Those aren't clouds in Philly,
They're raging puffs of smoke;
Make way for the locomotive,
That left hook ain't no joke!
Goodbye for now Joe Frazier,
You'll be sorely missed;
Boxing's lost its glory,
Real men fought with their fists!
How beautiful the wedding dress she held
against her skin. How delicate its lace.
What happiness inside her heart would swell.
But now big teardrops rolled down her sad face.
Her fiancé had called that night to say
a thing most unexpected. Though he’d tried,
he simply could not find another way
than call things off. His love for her had died.
As she lay sobbing, she was unaware
a fire had started when she slept. She woke
to her alarm’s shrill sound, and out of there
she fled while her small house went up in smoke.
She sorrowed seeing everything burned down.
Her dreams are charred now like her wedding gown.
Jan. 18, 2022
for Edward ibeh's This Or That, Vol 9 Poetry Contest
My father waits at his table
for my delivery
a carton of cigarettes, some booze
to patch places of laceration
his health waning, piecemeal, like a trail of crumbs
dismantled independence
the coldest solitude of age
he lifts the cigarette carton I bring, crashes it to the table
"I told you regular smokes, not King size!"
flawed purchase on my part,
catching his smoky torch of rage
my father, no longer a full self of goodness
his prostate cancer, a derailment
our scripts dysfunctional that divide us
like broken cement
still, I shop for him, a life alone in a gray wasteland
my duty, a quest for inner peace
the familiar charity in my father drifts from him
like cigarette ash, up in smoke
I kiss his cheek before I go
unguarded moment
to heal battlefield wounds
to open barricades between us
the battered stumble of hope
Poem composed: January 23/2022
Fantasy like Reality can be a disappointment...
Clearing the Air........
He worshipped her from afar...
He had since he was three..
He hid it well , no one knew...
She was his heart’s desire...
With her big bright eyes and her winning smile..
He never thought she would beguile...
Then he turned ten and it was clear..
It had been she who did inspire...
this young man ,with his heart on fire...
He arrived at seven in the morn...
To help prepare the feast de jour...
He stuffed the bird and chose to make..
Her favourite dessert...fresh Raspberry cake..
He feverishly cut and whipped and stirred..
Grandpa ‘s little helper was becoming quite the gourmet chef...
Then came the time to shower, and get dressed...
He chose his wardrobe carefully...
Making sure that he looked and smelled hmmm good....
She arrived and you could see him beaming proudly...
Everyone feasted on the bird and ate their fill...
He waited on her as I watched..
No one even blinked an eye..
They spoke for what seemed an eternity..
His face could be read for all to see...
Then out of the blue, she excused herself..
And went out on the patio to puff some stuff...
His face went white, I could see his plight..
She chose to be with others you see..
Who foolishly did an atrocity...
The one he worshiped from afar..
Went up in smoke...as she smoked her cigar...
The wife was just lying their stark
As a young lad puffed on a Lark
Without his pants
It took one glance
To see that her Kent was no Clark!
All my life I have heard the phase, up in smoke. Boy did I find out what that meant, the day I ate the hot peppers. My poor mouth was on fire, it went up in smoke.
Date Written: 1/5/2022
Grey slender almost blue as embers
Pouncing in the greener yard~
Faithful He was oh so graceful
Past a concrete curb to wander
Into streaming metal garb ~
Where did he go,
Still no one knows
But she believes she’s found him ~
A carbon-copy of a cat,
If you could just imagine that;
So sure that he is
Smokey.
your bridges aflame
futile efforts drying rivers
stranded in solitude
Last year I enrolled in trendy gym
Was enthusiastic about being slim
Have to say I was intimidated
When personal trainer demonstrated.
Spandex-clad my body held in
Mirror torments this fight will win
Parked on a bicycle going nowhere fast
Five minutes later completely downcast.
Rowing machine? yes I'll have a go
This only adds to my tale of woe
Tiny dumbells that small children could lift
Somehow managed to hurt my wrist.
A class where beginners exercise
Think of McDonalds~burger and fries
This torture was expensive I'm in the red
Cannot say I'm worried will soon be dead.
All of my dreams went up in smoke
Their no refund policy dashed any hope
That was an expense could've done without
Force to face facts I'm a total copout.
This or That,
Up in Smoke
Vol 9 Poetry Contest
Sponsored
by:
Edward Ibeh
07/01/2022
On a cold December night, a snowstorm
failed to stop a fire in Colorado.
And tinder-dry trees fueled a firestorm
that turned two towns into ash and shadow.
A prairie grass fire in Boulder County,
wiped out Superior and Louisville.
And folks celebrating Christmas bounty,
saw their neighborhoods reduced to landfill.
Well-over, a thousand homes got destroyed,
many others severely scorched and burnt.
And to those left homeless and unemployed,
the Marshall fire is still fresh and current.
Families watched their dreams go up in smoke,
no one smiled, no one joked, and no one spoke.
(Sonnet)
01/09/2022
This or That, Vol 9 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
Title Chosen..."UP In Smoke"
Up in Smoke With Satan's Folk!
Our Nation, State, burns up in smoke; it’s rape and pillage time!
As Satan’s folk trash social bulwarks, ‘brotherhood’s a crime.’
God’s nailed to walls ‘fake news’ erects (to hide its flaccid tools)
suggesting you will get ‘great’ head (when World obeys Trump’s rules.)
But it’s World’s butt great wealth pursues; odds don’t care what they screw
so long as they don’t ‘lose’ (think they’re the ‘screwer’), ‘screwie’s’ you!
Satanic folk hate ‘future’s sense,’ think earth’s tomorrows, ‘chum!’
“Conserve what’s present” (pray it lasts), fear Science, planning’s dumb.
And while it’s true, what Science tells us may not be complete,
for ‘flat earth’ folk, ‘best’ guess is ‘false,’ their views are obsolete,
though comforting, guess stays a guess, their faith’s an opiate
that limits God’s best logic’s gifts to fool’s ‘appropriate!’
Trump fears we’ll panic (his claim now!) but treats our fears with lies.
Entombs the best that Science knows, but can that neutralize
more zombie fears? Declares he’s won, “your dead friends are less dead
as I survive to celebrate your vote!” Trump’s bed’s coed
to young and old, but Putin’s whores need breasts (aged twelve or more.)
High standards (all get strictly met); flat-chested shown the door!
State’s fires are California’s fault; You’d breathe? Please don’t inhale
burned forests (two-thirds Feds control); protesters go to jail!
Farmworkers (mostly Mexicans) are ‘criminals’ who flee
their sordid lives in other lands, escaping poverty.
Yes, stack the courts with Trump’s cohorts, dump sacred Liberty,
applaud applause for noxious tweets that Fair won’t live to see!
Long Tooth
October 8th in 2020
here I sit wondering why our lives, are up in smoke. A world now unknown to me , let me tell you what I see. A pusher on the corner selling poison to my brother: an addict in the alley getting high one last time. A hooker on the next corner who's been beat. Up in smoke. Is the future of those I see. up in smoke Is a man's dream to believe. up in smoke Is our childern's education if we don't sop and take time to be apart. up in smoke is our rightto bewho we want to be. up in smoke Is this whole country make a change or we'll be up in smoke as a society.