Short Cig Poems
Short Cig Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Cig by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Cig by length and keyword.
like smoke from the end of my cig
she's dancing all over, you dig?
so after i hit
the rush that i get
brings exstacy under my wig
Lovely Linda loved her lashes.
Batted them in pageant sashes.
With a cig in her mouth.
Until one lash fell south.
Then that lash went up in ashes.
(but)
Very Brady
from an egg...
a phosphorescent pull - chain
wrapped around
yr leg.....
a wait - ing
on the other side...
tied to the Moon smoking a cig...
Sparks alit
Fire burning
A stick, a cig
Accumulating
Smoke drifting
Ashes fleeting
Darting, floating
But never ceasing
Huffing puffing
Non-stop haling
Polluting, blighting
My lungs are dying
She was incognito, so I pretended not to recognize her that day.
It was the little female turtle who lived down in Oyster Bay.
As a disguise she was wearing round granny glasses and a pink wig.
I avoided her eyes, so she could feel safe smoking on her cig.
Her belly reminds me of Buddha
Huge boobies just like a cow’s udder
From her mouth hangs a cig
She does not give a fig -
I’m thankful that she’s not MY Mudda!
Title refers to the cigarette butt hanging from her mouth
10/26/18
In my early youth,
I could buy some cigarettes
at the corner store.
My late aunt smoked L&Ms.
I bought with no questions asked.
Kids can't buy today.
Store owners say "Go Away".
No cig sales for you.
Stores would be breaking the law
if they sell to underaged.
I had no lighter
So I lit my cig with a match
Held that book in my hands
Finally decided I'm tired of pain
I'm gonna burn your love away
So I lit it and threw it on the ground
Now I've lost what I thought I found
Watched that matchbook burn
Now it's your turn
That matchbook burned
You deserve what you've earned
The President Smokes No More
By Elton Camp
The Secret Service is no longer chokin’
President Obama at last quit smokin’
Michelle Obama is so very glad
But the cig makers are quite sad
They hoped that a man so great
Potential smokers would imitate
Tobacco sales are likely to drop
Since the President chose to stop
The blues black canvas
Night scares emerald
Blizzard's fire
Sunlight so dire
Cliff dwelling mountain goats
In the golden hour mooing like cows
While well endowed
Mountain town
Smoking a cig blackened stained grass
Earths on fire amidst Eden's waterfalls
11/17/21
Written by James Edward Lee Sr © 2021
down to one
how shall I use?
light a cig?
or fire for warmth?
well, I don't smoke,
and it's summer, and hot
so what do I do with...
this marvelous wonder I got?
don't answer too quickly,
cause I know what you'd say
I'm not gonna shove it,
in such a place that may,
not need it's warmth,
not need it's light...
but surely there...
it'd be out of sight!!
Oh what a sight
it has been to many days and nights
what a pleasure
what a thrill
i want it now
my hand is trembling i lick my lips
so uncertain but i want it so much
closer......closer and closer still
gonna do it till nothing is left
oh its there i take a deep breath
the end all a fire
wonderful pleasure i want more
i tried to stop
honest i did
all i wanted was a CIG
Yeoman throw
On another
Cigarette to
Fuel the
Fire
Yeoman
Throw on
Another
Cigarette
To fuel
The fire
Yoe
Man E
Throw R
On an i
Other F
Cig e
Arette h
to t
F U E L
Let the music move you, it knows who you are.
The hands by themselves play, you're a shooting star.
The lights shining on you, they call for, "The Big".
A cape on one shoulder, a mouth-hanging cig.
The fast lane takes its toll, the fans have moved on.
The tours on its last leg, you've sold the last song.
Running with the big show, can have its dark side.
Though you might crash and burn, its a wild ride.
cancerofthepancreascancerofthelungscancerofthetonguecancerofthegums
r a i
a r
v t g
energynorthwindshortcutheadstartfocusneveralonealwayslonelygripsigh
The wind serpentines my hood against my cheek
the embers of my half smoked cig jettison
the greyed darkness in a flurry
brushing the collar and shoulder
to remove the silencing ash
shivering in the winds cold touch
the friction heat of my rubbing
hands offering little respite
and then the kiss of rainclouds
first born
Staring at a slowly fading facade
of an aquine moon
as the wind mounts its attack
on the whisping clouds
Persnickety pig, persnickety pig
Would you like to smoke a favorite cig?
Cancer chances are amazingly big
He is being tempted by his cousin Quig
How about alcohol? Please take a swig.
Come here, persnickety pig, don’t be a prig.
Person who added this was his cousin Zig
For this cousin PP did not give a fig.
Zig thought this was funny, he danced a jig
Loud snapping noises, he had stepped on a twig
Persnickety pig, persnickety pig
Where is your mud? I have a need to dig.
I think his iris is timid in sight,
Find him his cig, its light.
Its lit tip is in its crib,
I did right to fight with his timid skin in sight.
Sight this lid, I dig, I did.
His nick is with him in his crib,
I hit his crib with him with light.
It is in rid if its rig, I didn’t dig, I didn’t.
Light is sick.
Whip is sick.
Nick is light.
His is right.
I’m in with his right,
With its light in his crib.
Big, big, big hits is right by light.
Lid, lid, lid,
I’m with this crib.