Menthol Poems | Examples

Mint Blue

My nail polish matches turquoise streak on the menthol cigarette.
My mood matches the greenish mint blue color of my cuticles.
My day going by as long as nail polish had to dry.

Listening To Patsy

Memories
of Formica
kitchens
And 2-burner
Hotpoint 
stoves
Lipstick on
a menthol
butt
Costume
pearls
in rows
Perfume
from the
five and dime
Drive In’s
on the 
field
A promise
made
a promise kept
And 
love
— that time can’t steal

(Listening To Patsy Cline: July 4th, 2025)

French films of your youth

one look full of longing later
in the glow of electric lips
a brush with the unknown...


those were the French films of your youth
your concomitant struggles for love


rambling through the summer heat
gliding in the seaside breeze
down in the deep dead blue


to yearn, to be strangely stranded
among the widowed twin tides
in your sleepy demeanour

 
still craving your only true friends
white menthol cigarettes and
the angels of the abyss
 

so follow me in my steps
my unfaithful dreamer
together we’ll disappear
in the groves between the floorboards

The Halfway Glass

A city block vendor chimes pleasantries prouder
than Muzak or an unseen crow in the background 
elevating alarm clock music in the caws
uncredited and angrily growing louder.

A walkway narrows between the vendor
and a building. I teeter between both
as I pass by her grill
parked beside the vape shop. A blistering warmth

whitens piled pink hotdogs and tickles my ribcage.

A parakeet on her shoulder
is flaking off the sun and feathering the moon.

Steamy sundowns moisten her saucer eyes.
One dog pops sausage through its skin. She fans
the minty menthol. I pay the price
for squinting. I've dropped my glasses. Splitting

off-key shattered glass,
the containment of what used to be
bits of me shows up digits-bloodied.
Long after the initial sweep up,
little jagged cuts still happen.

A Pirate in Retirement

He’s late-stage Charles Bukowski,
Hunching gnome-like over the bar,
With weary eyes, and scruffy stubble.
It’s sure he must have seen some trouble. 
But he’s got plenty of cash in his pockets,
Along with the keys to a stolen car.
He smells of sea air, wet cement, and whiskey.
His tattoos could be urban graffiti,
Just random tags on ghetto limbs,
An ancient, coded treasure map
Charting landmarks through the route of his career.
He eyes a buxom tavern wench, 
Who looks wholesome as a menthol cigarette,
And orders up another round for them all.
The Buccaneers’ Union provides him a generous pension.
He’s living his best life ever on a bounty of plundered loot.
Avast ye! Let’s drink to the golden years.

Vices

The refrigerator door opens,
the light illuminates the wine.
Still we just can’t seem to comprehend,
why we feel like crap all the time.

Don’t speak before our morning coffee,
just one more menthol cigarette.
Half a dozen donuts for breakfast, 
and all the sugar we can get.

But we go to church every Sunday,
though we might nod off cause we’re bored.
So we can tell folks we’re Christians,
and follow the words of our Lord.

We can interpret the Bible,
make it say what we want it to.
Does it say always love your neighbor,
long as they think the same as you.

OLd CORPORAL SLEUTH FOOT--

Old sleuth foot such a character
 an old veteran 
with one leg yet he still happy 
~
Old Slew Foot with a gorilla chest
 he smelled of menthol from his breath
 Oh! slew foot was quite tall
 he can stand on his one leg problem but never fall 
~
Old Slew Foot was a Corporal in the army
 on the battlefield he seen that so alarming
 Oh! slew foot had a prosthetic
 when he put it on he would walk run even dance he felt lit
 not pathetic 
~
Old Slew Foot walk the mile
 he co-created a blessed child
 Old Slew Foot was sleeping in a chair
 because all he had left in him was one leg and a prayer

11/16/23
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr 2023

So

Is that the same habitual pain 
The one I didn’t expect 
To reappear once again
Like fume of menthol cigarette
I smoked ten thousand days ago
When snow was blooming lily-white
And withered leaves were whirling slow
Across the dimmed sunlight 
I thought to make a worthy plan
Before the winter’s timelessness
It wasn’t superstitious then
More likely, a result of stress 
It’s back, in luxury edition
Which is expanded overseas 
Am I to live under suspicion?
I cannot bear all this.

Good Morning

I wake up in the morning,
with my joints all stiff and sore.
I reach for that magic tool,
I keep in the dresser drawer.

At first it starts to tingle,
I feel like a little kid.
Suddenly the heat kicks in,
now I feel like I once did.

Oh Biofreeze, 
When I roll you on my skin.
your healing power begins,
and your warmth starts to sink in,
I’m ready for the world again.

My neck, shoulders, back, and thumbs,
I smear it on one and all.
Don’t care if I start to smell,
like a bottle of menthol.

One thing I must caution you,
this part you must understand.
Before you go take a whizz,
just make sure you wash your hands.

The Recipe

menthol cigarettes / messy journals / propane torches / unfinished poems / 
                 broken promises / black bandana / clock rings /
thrift shops / candle wax / stolen books / peach nehi /
       poison ivy / nicotine gum / ripped overalls /
 leyland cypresses / junkyard blues / gutted cigarellos / abandoned houses /
             tin foil flowers / gatorade / starburst / diabetic insulin syringes /
toy boats / vix vapor rub / red nose pitbull / lemon balm / 
         cutflowers / river stones / wooden crosses / cluttered bookstores /
broken pocket watches / bad behavior / birdsong / bantam chickens /
          spare tires / cartoon band aids / unread voicemails / black ink /
ripped dollar bills / friendship bracelets / dirty laundry / vinyl / 
          chopped firewood / inferno / 70's model trucks / heart locket /
fave pen / soda slushies / free verse poetry / lana del rey / god jesus /

Hootin Bootin Shootin Caterpillar

Hootin Bootin Shootin Tootin Smokin Lokin Caterpillar
Running around in the recesses of the darkened cellar
Taking long deadly drags from his menthol minded mary jane.
We cannot sing this song without a lively mootin grootin refrain.

Calvin Klein and Menthol Cigarettes

When everyone wore Calvin Klein
I wore pairs of Old Navy jeans and graphic tees
When everyone carried a mouthful Menthol Cigarettes
I carried a mouthful of Sour Patch Kids
When everyone was  having cups of  Kalik
I was having cups of Pina Coladas
When everyone was rocking Air Jordans
I was rocking flip flops and Converse
When everyone went to Atlantis and Baha Mar
I went to Blue Lagoon  and Ardastra Gardens
When everyone wanted to go to Miami
I wanted to go to Key West, Maui or Bora Bora
When everyone grew up to be a police
a teacher or a front desk clerk
I grew up to be a tour guide,  
a beach nomad and a storyteller

Bernard Has Been Begging

Bernard has been begging
Bernard has been begging Lord God ‘Please’
For life of buffeting unease
Bernard’s lung’s finest sound an odd where,
He’d been trying all his life to ease:
Lots of menthol that should make him sneeze 
And all over again taste sweet breeze…

Bernard has been dispatching his please,
God asking where he might him appease;
During Winter seeming he would freeze
Often no better than frozen cheese;
The countenance of White smeared with Grease
From head to toe captive for release…

Bernard plans not to stop Hoped-On Please
Not when one’s captor is Smiting Disease…

Poetry Is a Life-Cherishing Force

Poetry is a life-cherishing force. For poems are not words, after all, but fires for the cold, ropes let down to the lost, something as necessary as bread in the pockets of the hungry."
— Mary Oliver


Poetry is a life-cherishing force
Nourishing my mind and inmost soul
It's a therapeutic menthol caressing my pores
Every moment I read, my happiness roll
Each time I share my joy is an utmost pool

Poetry is a life-cherishing source
My unlimited reservoir of inspiration
Storage of wisdom for life-going-coarse
Quenching thirst of knowledge, no starvation
For life’s beauty... more on satisfaction, adoration

Poetry is my life-cherishing force
Restoring my strength, driving my power
Midst enervation from a long-day-course
Found enough refreshment on my diversion hour
Painting my life and thoughts flowing like a river


Nov. 23, 2022     9.25pm

Poetry is a life-cherishing force Contest
Contest Judged:  12/1/2022 9:51:00 AM
Sponsored by: Sotto Poet
Place; 3 (up to 4 multi-w)

Control In Right Hands

It matters much who is in control:
In a venture he is the petrol;
To others hands what is relevant
And fishes out those who gallivant;
Workers warn to be not sycophant
For treats the size of an Elephant...

It matters a lot who does control:
Early his catarrh checks with menthol,
So that it staggers not his petrol
Or him reduce to thing to console...

Someone in control like Football Coach
On one's shoulders burdens of approach:
The fellow to new grave topic broach
And bad workers pair up with cockroach.

On a pedestal who's in control,
One's eyes closed to sharing of dettol
Over the squabbles merely quibble 
Or a barraging voice make feeble.

• Short Menthol Poems
• Famous Menthol Poems
• Best Menthol Poems
• Read Menthol Poems
• Long Menthol Poems
• Menthol Quotes