Poetry: Smoking - by Allan M. Heller

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by Allan M. Heller

Created on: November 18, 2011

A pastime which occupies my full attention
Begins with a delicate flick.
The sweet smell of sulfur is followed
By an orange glow from the kindled tip
Bursting briefly into a big white billow
That dwindles into a slender wisp
As I settle down to hazy remembrance
And evanescing oblivion.

Two fingers and a thumb effortlessly balance
A smooth, stout, oily instrument
While my pursed, pensive lips blow clouds
Towards the ceiling, sending my fatigue far away
Or forming my amorphous artwork into meditations
To share with others.

The phone is ringing, she tells me once, then twice
But I cannot answer it right now.
I’m smoking a cigar.

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Poetry: Smoking

1 of 63

by J H S B

Smoking
What a curse
Addicted aged ten
It was fashion then
We boys where men
Caught at school
Dad went mad
Won't forget the hiding
2 of 63

by Jishi Santos

Now smoking has gone through many stages

in the history of the blue/green planet,

and now tis judged so harshly and sore
3 of 63

by Stephen Stirk

Of all the pubs in all the world, you had to enter mine
I Won't permit your passive smoke
It makes my patrons gag and choke
4 of 63

by Laura Leigh Fields

I am in a cloudy room.
It is full of smoke.
Everyone is puffing cigarettes.
I hear someone begin to choke.
They inhale each
5 of 63

by Terri Crawford

Pretty, little, tightly packed cylindrical object of joy,
Though everyone says you're bad for me, let's face it, I'm your

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