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The Cigar
Some sigh for this and that,
My wishes don't go far;
The world may wag at will,
So I have my cigar.
Some fret themselves to death
With Whig and Tory jar;
I don't care which is in,
So I have my cigar.
Sir John requests my vote,
And so does Mr. Marr;
I don't care how it goes,
So I have my cigar.
Some want a German row,
Some wish a Russian war;
I care not. I'm at peace
So I have my cigar.
I never see the 'Post,'
I seldom read the 'Star;'
The 'Globe' I scarcely heed,
So I have my cigar.
Honors have come to men
My juniors at the Bar;
No matter - I can wait,
So I have my cigar.
Ambition frets me not;
A cab or glory's car
Are just the same to me,
So I have my cigar.
I worship no vain gods,
But serve the household Lar;
I'm sure to be at home,
So I have my cigar.
I do not seek for fame,
A general with a scar;
A private let me be,
So I have my cigar.
To have my choice among
The toys of life's bazaar,
The deuce may take them all
So I have my cigar.
Some minds are often tost
By tempests like a tar;
I always seem in port,
So I have my cigar.
The ardent flame of love,
My bosom cannot char,
I smoke but do not burn,
So I have my cigar.
They tell me Nancy Low
Has married Mr. R.;
The jilt! but I can live,
So I have my cigar.
poem by Thomas Hood
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I even smoke in bed. Imagine smoking a cigar in bed, reading a book. Next to your bed, there's a cigar table with a special cigar ashtray, and your wife is reading a book on how to save the environment.
quote by Raul Julia
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Don't Want To Be A Star
I don't want to be a star
Just want my Chevy and an old guitar
I don't want to be a star
I don't need the fat cigar
My friends wonder what is wrong with me
Cause I don't get off on my fame
I got so much confusion now
Sometimes I don't even know my name
I don't want to be a star
Just want my Chevy and an old guitar
I don't want to be a star
I don't need the fat cigar
Too many distractions run through my brain
So many girls they start to look the same
Too many options no time to choose
Too many clothes, too many shoes
I've had the world I've done it upside down
I played the part and I've been the clown
Now it's my time, it's a brand new day
To be myself in a different way
I don't want to be a star
Just want my Chevy and an old guitar
I don't want to be a star
I don't need the fat cigar
I got to meet all the wonderful people
I drank with Dylan boy did we act a fool
I got high with Jagger, it was really cool
I don't want to be a star
Just want my Chevy and an old guitar
I don't want to be a star
I don't need the fat cigar
Never...
song performed by by Lenny Kravitz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Maybe it's like becoming one with the cigar. You lose yourself in it; everything fades away: your worries, your problems, your thoughts. They fade into the smoke, and the cigar and you are at peace.
quote by Raul Julia
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.
quote by Sigmund Freud
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Puff hard the love
Lit the cigar
Let it burn
Puff it hard
And Long
To
Set
It
On
Fire
To
Get
Pleasure
Till
The
Butt
Within
Minutes
It
Will
Finish
To
Ash.
Love and life
Fire and cigar
Do not they flock together,
As birds of same feather?
poem by Abdul Wahab
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What Is A Cigar?
Even Sigmund Freud
said that sometimes
a cigar is only a cigar.
Not a phallic symbolic
sensual sexual object.
Obviously President
U.S. of A. Clinton
did not graduate past
the phallic symbolism.
Has Clinton not got the Freudian
message down to political pat?
Cigar language is multicultural!
Lewd cigar games are probing
business psychology deeper than
Clinton with Monica Lewinsky!
During Oval Office Intimate Party Games!
Clinton smoked sexually used Lewinsky
cigars; with powerful Japanese businessmen?
Clinton knows a cigar. Is not
just a spent phallic symbol!
Representing a sexual object.
It is an extended aid; to established dominant!
For an ailing, impotent, spent hormonal politician?
Spent definitely. Impotent? Not by a long shot!
‘I did not have sexual relations with that woman! ’
The issue was pergury! He lied under oath!
Willfully and knowingly
stated a whopper falsehood under oath!
The BJ act itself was never unlawful
under the Constitutional Bill of Rights!
Copyright © Terence George Craddock
See also ‘Presidential Impeachment’.
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Focus (Life Poem)
After three drinks, I sit and focus
On the night in Santo Domingo,
Like Greene’s Honorary Consul,
It is “the right measure” for me,
Beckett reads Beckett remembering.
Where he strips man’s inexhaustible
Search for meaning to bare bones.
These thoughts aided by a smooth
Handmade cigar and Carlos Primero,
I wonder as I focus on this scrap of
Scribbles should I keep it, or leave it
On the table, for some tramp to read,
While he smokes the dog-end of
What was a reasonably good cigar?
poem by Ian Beckett
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ONE PERSON (Love Poem)
So close, that we are drowning,
So close, that we are still in madness,
So close, that we are invisible in our love,
So close, that we are one 10000 miles apart,
So close, that we do not have to talk to know,
So close, that our hearts beat like one heart,
So close, that we dream the same dreams,
So close, that we breathe the same air,
So close, that we are one person.
poem by Ian Beckett
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A Lame Man
A lame man from Lagos
married the princess of Madagascar
and went to Hawaii for honeymoon
with a Havana cigar aburning
And a spark from the cigar flew
transported by some uncanny crew
wafted by the waves of the cosmic wind
till it blew up Troy and Hiroshima
in a flash
A lame man from Lagos married the princess
of Madagascar
Hah HA
poem by Dr. Ramesh Chandra Mukhopadhyaya
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A Small Cigar
A small cigar can change the world
I know, Ive done it frequently at parties
Where Ive won all the guests attention
With my generosity and suave gentlemanly bearing
A little flat tin case is all you need
Breast-pocket conversation opener
And one of those ciggie lighters that look rather good
You can throw away when empty
Must be declared a great success
My small cigars all vanish within minutes
Excuse me, mine host, that I may visit
A nearby tobacconist
To replenish my supply of small cigars
And make the party swing again
I know my clothes seem shabby
And dont fit this hampstead soiree
Where unread copies of rolling stone
Well-thumbed playboys
Decorate the hi-fi stereo record shelves
If you ask me theyre on their way
To upper-middle-class oblivion
The stupid twits, they roll their only
One cigarette between them
My small cigars redundant now
In the haze of smoking pleasure
Call it a day
Get the hell away
Go down the cafe
For a cup of real tea
By the tube station, theres a drunk old fool
Who sells papers in the rush hour
I hand to him ten small cigars
He smiles, says, ''son, God bless you
A small cigar
Has changed his world, my friend
A small cigar
Has changed the world again
A small cigar . . .
song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Happiness? A good cigar, a good meal, a good cigar and a good woman - or a bad woman; it depends on how much happiness you can handle.
quote by George Burns
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cooing in a nest
My beloved wife bought me a sunblock cream; 'Dad! You have some wrinkles on your face.'
'Yes Mom! We are close upon our sixties, yet to be chosen for the yearly Marathon.'
She collects pennies in an old jam bottle and hides somewhere as she knows that I steal for my daily Cuban vanilla cigar.
I dreamed one night the till full of gold coins.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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See The Constellation
I lay my head on the railroad track
Stare at the sky all painted up
Your train is gone, wont be coming back
See the constellation ride across the sky
No cigar, no lady on his arm
Just a guy made of dots and lines
Just a guy made of dots and lines
Two years ago moved from my town
I was looking up past the city lights
But the city lights got in my way
See the constellation ride across the sky
No cigar, no lady on his arm
Just a guy made of dots and lines
Just a guy made of dots and lines
I found my mind on the ground below
I was looking down, it was looking back
I was in the sky all dressed in black
See the constellation ride across the sky
No cigar, no lady on his arm
Just a guy made of dots and lines
Just a guy made of dots and lines
Just a guy made of dots and lines
Can you hear what I see in the sky?
Can you hear what I see in the sky?
Can you hear what I see in the sky?
Notes
The dial-a-song version:
I lay my head on the railroad track
Look at the sky all dressed in black
Your train is gone, wont be coming back
My lone constellation rides across the sky
No cigar, no lady on his arm
Just a guy made from dots and lines
Just a guy made from dots and lines
The city lights think nothings there
No real stars, nothings there
My lone constellation rides across the sky
No cigar, no lady on his arm
Just a guy made from dots and lines
Just a guy made from dots and lines
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Don't Come Close
You know it's generally known
You got everything at home
Kisses out of desperation
Bring you more aggravation
And you don't come close
You don't come close
You don't come close
You bring out your souvenirs
Soak them wet with your tears
You lose your imagination
Out of more aggravation
And you don't come close
You don't come close
You don't come close
You turn red with rage
But act your age
Only thing that your regret
You need more time to forget
And you don't come close
You don't come close
You don't come close.
song performed by by Ramones from Road To Ruin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lost Change
He stood outside
the newspaper stand
on Michigan & Chicago,
the morning winter chill
made him put on his gloves.
He lit a cigar and said
good morning to three
Walgreens female workers
smoking outside in the cold.
“ It’s almost Old Style time, ”
he proclaimed and handed
a magazine with warm beauty
on its cover to a middle age
office worker who quickly
placed it in a briefcase
and continued to walk.
“ Ain’t it too early for beer, ”
said the redhead between inhales.
“ It’s never to early for Old Style…”
The ladies laughed,
died out their cigarettes
and went back to work.
He kept smoking his cigar
as he sold another newspaper
to a passerby who gave him
exact coins and told him
to keep the change.
He looked down
at the two quarters
in the palm of his glove
and took a long drag
pulled the cheap cigar
from his ample mouth
exhaled and yelled,
“and you too have a wonderful day…”
His shift was coming to an end
while most were just starting.
He knew that soon he would
be home drinking an Old Style,
thinking about the redhead
while counting lost change
he did manage to keep.
poem by Charles Lara
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When I Close my Eyes
When I close my eyes,
I can see my country,
Shining in the light, bright.
When I close my eyes.
When I close my eyes,
I see the trees,
Green against the skyline.
When I close my eyes.
When I close my eyes,
I see stars shining cross,
The wide beyond.
When I close my eyes.
When I close my eyes,
I see the sunset behind your hair,
Halo shining in the air.
When I close my eyes.
When I close my eyes,
I hear the ocean waves,
Crashing on the shore.
When I close my eyes.
When I close my eyes,
I see the moon glistening,
Through your eyes.
When I close my eyes.
© 2012
poem by Nick Strong
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So Close
Tears still lie
So close
So close
Even as the years go
Just underneath the surface
Silent goodbyes
So close
So close
To breaking down
You were here just a moment ago
Tiny little memories
So close
So close
The laughter and love
But still I want you here
Then thin glass is breaking
So close
So close
A silent, glittering tear
poem by Autumn Winds
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The Pretty Lady
He asked the lady in the train
If he might smoke: she smiled consent.
So lighting his cigar and fain
To talk he puffed away content,
Reflecting: how delightful are
Fair dame and fine cigar.
Then from his bulging wallet he
A photograph with pride displayed,
His charming wife and children three,
When suddenly he was dismayed
To hear her say: 'These notes you've got,--
I want the lot.'
He scarcely could believe his ears.
He laughed: 'The money isn't mine.
To pay it back would take me years,
And so politely I decline.
Madame, I think you speak in fun:
Have you a gun?'
She smiled. 'No weapon have I got,
Only my virtue, but I swear
If you don't hand me out the lot
I'll rip my blouse, let down my hair,
Denounce you as a fiend accurst . . .'
He told her: 'Do your worst.'
She did. Her silken gown she tore,
Let down her locks and pulled the cord
That stopped the train, and from the floor
She greeted engineer and guard:
'I fought and fought in vain,' she cried.
'Save me,--I'm terrified!'
The man was calm; he stood aloof.
Said he: 'Her game you understand;
But if you doubt, behold the proof
Of innocence is in my hand.'
And as they stared into the car
They saw his logic in a flash . . .
Aloft he held a lit cigar
With two inches of ash.
poem by Robert William Service
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