Long Tobacco Poems
Long Tobacco Poems. Below are the most popular long Tobacco by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Tobacco poems by poem length and keyword.
CHANGING WORLDS
.. An' Unc' Nathan -
Well.., he just kept right on ..,
You.., (he coughed a long one) eyes..,
They gonna' be square..
I blasted another.
'All that killing', said Ma..,
Lighting Grandpap's pipe..,
Pausing.., for her own pleasure..,
Then passing it on.
Brains blew all over the screen.
Big Sis' Charlotteen - out corner of my eye..,
Breezing in from work,
Dropping ash down her blouse, reading mail .,
Blown smoke, through nose..,
hanging.
Cigarette in teeth..
'Ma.. gotta' date.., got any microwave?'
Flick of wrist ., I laugh out..,
More aliens annihilated..,
Aunt Elz-beth leaned in closer.,
spilt her special 'medice'-whisky peering too far in.,
A glance ., it dropping off her chin .
'These 'puter things..,
That ain't no life' I hit pause. 'An' look at all the harm it brings'
Depressing the button..,
While all about,
Rolled tobacco, tugged, swigged, bickered, argued and snickered,
But nothing came through that, 'thick skull o' mine'.
Nothing got delivered..,
An yet.., way back when.,
O'er my shoulder.., forever..,
They all watched me save the planets..,
We all knew we were all heroes,
Kept stopping by as I solved the worlds.
Stopping by.., even now, decades away.
We started a move,
With Mwalimu Julius,
The move to paradise,
a promised land,
Full of wine and vineyard.
We declared Arusha,
As symbol of movement,
Unifying poor and richer,
To live as one forever,
And build the nation together.
Challenges started,
When some dislike the policy,
Socialism is an attitude of mind!
They wanted free market,
To exploit their fellow brethren,
They sabotaged and plundered,
Public Industries and companies,
As the preparation towards drunken walk.
We are drunken, yes we are!
Moving two steps forward and three back,
Spurting tobacco on left,
But covering the land on right,
And this is our move,
A move towards development.
We are fifty three years old,
As the old man with white hairs,
But lacks wisdom by talking the same thing,
Kilimo on morning day and night,
As the backbone of the economy,
And now with amplified sound,
Named kilimo kwanza,
To bring about development,
And changes peoples life,
That we previously failed,
But this is our song,
A song of the digital world.
Listen comrades,
I also agree,
And let us resume our failure,
For we dare again fail,
In a country like ours,
Where policy is importation,
Of everything except soldiers
What movement do we speak?
Or movement towards primitive!
19/02/2014
Sky blue smoke
Drifting on unseen breezes
Swirling and twirling
Dancing its own magical dance
Above glowing embers
Last remains of a raging fire
An ancient forest
Born before man created time
Seeing the dinosaurs
Wandering through already ancient trees
The birth of the Christ Child
And the deaths of two world wars
It lived undisturbed
Unmolested by modern man
For centuries, millennia
It lived
It grew
It was the home for millions of animals
It was its own world
Then came a single man
A lit match touching a tobacco filled tube
An addiction fulfilled
The forest burnt in a moment of carelessness
Nothing left except glowing red embers
No trees
No animals
Just a cloud of sky blue smoke.
Psst, You There, Just Once Won't Hurt
I'm Your Friend
By: Tom Wright
07/03/99
I have stolen your children,
caused broken homes,
fostered child abuse
and killed your neighbor.
Because of me you have ungodly thoughts
and perform ungodly acts.
I shorten your life.
Ad men say that I'm what's happening
while many teens think I'm cool.
Like other sin, I'm portrayed as glamorous,
the in thing to do.
To many, I'm a crutch,
still others an excuse.
When lonely, I'll pretend to be your companion,
for awhile.
Socially, I'll be just one of the guys.
I'm a battle in which you can't win,
at best, a draw.
To many, I'm classified as a disease
but correctly put, I'm a DRUG-- a habit.
A habit that you can't break.
Millions are spent yearly fighting things I've caused
yet I remain stronger than ever.
Man keeps statistics on Drugs,
Wars, Aids, Heart failure, Cancer,
Cigarettes and Automobile wrecks.
So it is with great pride that I say
I am responsible for more deaths than any of these
and the primary cause of a large part of these.
I raise insurance rates,
steal your pride,
and cause degradation and embarrassment
at every given opportunity.
Political lobbyist protect me as if their first born.
Citizens seek restitution in your courts
for wrongful deaths in all manner of things,
but not against me.
You will sue the car maker, the driver, the gun maker,
or the tobacco company,
but never the Spirits Industry.
I have a free ride as I destroy your lives.
Oh, in and of myself I'm not bad,
I've many useful purposes
and man has made me what I am.
I am that small bottle
that society chooses to ignore,
called Alcohol.
Psst, hey kid, over here
want a drink?
Der Spiegel In Kashgar
Where the Silk Road begins, I bought an apricot
saw a young Fidel Castro on a bike
The woman who sold the fruit wore a red shawl
over her shiny black hair knotted under her chin
and yellow silk dress
Do you see this man on a bike?
I asked the woman who sold fruit by the road
he is Fidel Castro of Cuba and is a famous man
except in the USA.
Kashgar is the biggest outdoor market in the world
Europe is puny, colorless, and far away
why was Fidel doing in Kashgar, so far from Cuba?
I tell you, he is looking for a tobacco dealer
to supply him with cigars, the USA is too close
to Cuba
A longer Silk Road is being built with pipelines
and trains to Hamburg's famous market of whores
selling flesh from dimmed-lit rooms
If you want to buy a peach, you have to go to Kandahar
or make a movie.
The man on the bike was a secular pope
his enemy tried to murder him for sixty years.
My Kentucky in Fall
Peaceful country roads winding through meadows and hills,
and golden rays kiss purple asters, tall ironweed and abundant goldenrod.
Gorgeous colors are greeting me despite the warning that drought
would hold them back this year.
Glowing yellows, warm reds and burning orange leaves are clinging
to the heavy branches, limbs swaying in the autumn breeze.
Fallen leaves dance to the music of the currents,
poison ivy vines wrap the stately maple in crimson.
Damp snapping turtles sun themselves on a rock in the creek,
while further up a blue heron is standing silently, watching the
slow flowing water, until he is ready to strike.
Our majestic Ohio river reflects the cloudless, azure sky
while bordered by densely covered cliffs that are
decked in their autumn finest.
Profusely blooming red cardinal vines cling to the rocky ledges
are kissed by happily buzzing bees and bouncing butterflies.
Pumpkins, ghosts and witches decorate porches and front doors,
gray barns are brimming with hay, tobacco and corn,
contently harboring their bounty.
Acorns, black walnuts and hickory nuts are plentiful, yet squirrels
do not seem in a hurry to bring in their winter supply.
Smiling, waving hikers are climbing the autumn scented hills
to Tioga Falls, and Virginia Creeper vines show pleasing colors
along the old Rail Road Bridge.
On the side of the road the lush cedars have developed
their silver-blue berries,
and wild rose bushes are displaying their red rose hips.
Autumn has come to my Kentucky.
Years ago I did so choose, to go on a Caribbean clipper ship cruise,
and, in addition to several other islands,
anchored off Nevis, northwest of Saint Kitts,
where, in the late 1780's, Nelson had lived,
and still bears traces of his presence today,
in various parts, pieces and bits.
When our windjammer Skipper informed us,
'Shopping here's good, snorkeling is bad,'
I avoided the former, sought out the latter,
and, as a matter of fact, a good time was had,
for no sooner had I ducked under,
two feet from the waterline,
in about one foot deep (shallow) water,
tho' visibility was, in inches, no more than nine,
I espied a white clay churchwarden pipe,
which I retrieved, broken, not whole,
with one third of the stem, and most of the tobacco-burned bowl.
1787, Nelson married the widow Fanny Nisbet on Nevis,
and, as the island he was about to depart,
'Desist smoking or else!'
Horatio may have heard her insist or impart,
and that which I found, I've a mind to say,
was his very last pipe, he'd reluctantly tossed overboard,
on that sunny day, when, as Captain of Boreas, he sailed away.
Jabba the Hutt has a spur up his butt
that makes him as mean as a wasp
If you stop for a look, at that glutton of glop,
his looks will not help him a lot!
His rotten demeaner, gave Vadar the radar,
to hide out in deep outer-space
Hutt's face and his figure could fracture a mirror
...and the glass of a whole universe!
There are millions of creatures, with much better features,
that Jabba can never embrace!
Jabba is gruesome, a big gooey nuisance!
He looks like a big wad of gum!
He grossed out Chewbacca.......
who likes his tobacco,.....(this may be a slip of a tongue)....,
But... a wad of his chew, missed the spittoon,
and hit Jabba, in his hut, with a zoom !
To view this unsightly, gruesome character:
_https://www.google.com/search?q=Jabba+the+Hutt&rls=com.microsoft:en-US:IE-Address&tbm=isch&tbo=u&source=univ&sa=X&ei=sU4dUpjQG4HViwK1kYCoDQ&ved=0CEAQsAQ&biw=1920&bih=897
_____________________________________________
For P.D.'s Star Wars Contest:
By Carrie Richards 8/27/13
Star Wars Rules !
Evening's glow means supper is over
and it's time for my pipe and tobacco to find my porch
where I will sit alone
and the only sound is the creaking of my chair
as I rock back and forth
to watch sunsets in the skies of absorbed light
giving rendered edges to starlights dim
rotating across the vast expanse like a slow carousel
as my soul rides along
hoping to be granted access to wandering dreams
unimagined nor dreamt by gatherers
whose needs are to reap man-made objects of no importance
and fighting to see who ends up with the largest pile
as others argue among themselves over large swaths of Earth
that they can never own
I would rather sit and smoke my pipe
and catch the wandering dreams
of silent rapture and wishful treasure
at the end of a long day
8/29/21
contest Vagabond Dreams
sponsor Craig Cornish
Smoking is a deadly addiction
that slowly kills with each cigarette.
And as tobacco tightens its grip
it devastates you with its effect.
You shun the rules of society
and sneak that inevitable puff.
For you're hooked and unable to quit,
your nicotine habit's much too tough.
You fight off bouts of anxiety,
but they invariably come back.
And you feel a sense of revulsion
knowing your lungs are pitted and black.
Willingly smoking your life away
is involuntary suicide.
But defying all explanations,
rose-colored glasses are applied.
(Quatrain)
5/6/2015