Thursday, September 30, 2010

Evan Gunn's Tobacco Poem #2

Stop him and tell 'em now;
He's thought too hard, but in what way.
In confidence brought this "therefore"; how,
Does he fumble and pace in evening day?

Lean back and into stupor fall,
Reach for your leaf on the table side.
Our ignorance defeats, then he foils us all,
And then again poise, we tense our hide.

Tis' forth and forth, but back and back;
This pseudo-socratic group has failed.
Though, for all we, and all we lack,
It is done by smoke; the words were hailed.

I, by faith, have learned this well,
White noise is all we'll strive to be.
But, through silence our minds did tell,
By God, this leaf makes contracts free!

Wednesday, September 29, 2010

AGN's Poem #2

He says: I am not a fan of it but I sent it for the reason that I am two months behind.

+++

In the gloom of early light
To the east, north, south and right
There is a flame flickering soft and bright
With smoke seeped eternal delight.

Bright sun tells a story long
Short hours to finish so tarry on
The ash to show the burned song
While smoke seeps bright beyond

All is quiet, serene the time
Tired bones settle the stir doth die
Thus steady tendrils continually intertwine
Till smoke seeping burden unwind.

The hush that follows the affair
Will nary be broken or have a care
The people rest worn and bare
With smoke seeping into the night.

So tomorrow comes, the smoke is gone
The wind has blown it all anon
Yet do not trouble before ere long
The smoke will yet ever seep on

Sunday, September 26, 2010

Okay. Fine.

Here's my first. Please post what comments you will.

++++++

Conviviality, conversation -
Congregation in open air cathedrals,
Temples of like minds, ideas crass
And crowning, adoration
Of an amity that salves
The soul, consecrated by holy
Smoke.

But solitary, it settles in old
Scarred lungs, tethers flights
Of thought to memories, yesterdays
Played out against repeated
Mistakes until the tipping point
Is found -

Morose now? Resigned to one
More time? The good fight fought
In the face of imminent defeat?

Or lesson learned? Enlightenment
Hard won? A chance to change
Tomorrow by understanding what
Built this reality?

Cut.
Roast.
Light.
Inhale.

Wait for the tide
On a wave
Of smoke.

Sunday, September 5, 2010

AtY's September Poem

You know the pause, the one right after
something keen or inane was just said,
when the flow of words dries up, awkwardly.
Silence was made for smoke.

Even more, a time to relish the silence,
to prepare a rebuttal, to consider
an argument, it's a kindness.
Conversation was made for smoke.

To run, hunt, fish, weed, till, wash, or mend,
is to miss the complexity,
the repose possible in summer months.
The outdoors were made for smoke.

The drivers miss the details, the beauty,
the listening walkers miss the connections,
the smoker shares his pleasure with everybody.
The streets were made for smoke.

When your back gets sore, and sweaty,
and there is nothing on the radio of interest,
and this trip is just taking too long.
Driving is made for smoke.

It is a joiner of unlike people.
It is a medium of communication.
It is a calming force in a world run mad by a mob.
It is why life is made for smoke.

+++

That end line keeps me changing it. Any suggestions all?