Life’s a Cigar
‘Life’s a cigar’: the wasting body glows;
The head turns white as Kosciusko’s snows;
And, with the last soul-fragrance still in air,
The ashes slowly sink in soft repose.
poem by George Gordon McCrae
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Related quotes
Smoking is injurious
Cigar packets display the warning
“Smoking is injurious to health”
Multinational companies increase their earnings
We loose our body and wealth
All smokes inhaled in the lungs
Life and death always hangs
How much damage it causes?
Health danger definitely it pauses
As cigar turns into ashes
Life is also turned into ashes
No amount medicines may wash
Nothing will help either money or cash
Thousands of deaths every year
Advice to stop may fall on deaf ear
We may hate to heed or hear
Later on all brunt we may bear
Even chewing tobacco leaves
Harms more and endanger lives
We hear but not land ears or believe
Ends it with grave damage then relieve
Limit it to self for occasional use
Excessive use amounts to misuse
Harms may be more than the advantage
Youth may be on wane and early old age
It is not piece of advice
Happiness key and simple device
Use it to safe and simple way
Life may be joyful and have your sway
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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The Body And The Soul
i hear the body speak through its mouth
there is no God
there is no God
i see the body wasting itself
like a tree whose roots are eaten by the fungus
but inside that body is the soul that raises his hands
to the skies looking at God and calling his name
My God why have you abandoned me?
there is only the usual silence and the soul is restless
anticipating to get out from the body that is killing and wasting itself
and the time has come
for the soul to be liberated
to be alone
in itself moving towards the light, dancing in the dark, and singing out aloud
My God here i am back to you
It is only in You that i find back peace and happiness & bliss.
Let that soul be me My Lord.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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439
I Hear The Body Speak Through Its Mouth
There Is No God There Is No God
I See The Body Wasting Itself
Like A Tree Whose Roots Are Eaten By The Fungus
But Inside That Body Is The Soul That Raises His Hands
To The Skies Looking At God And Calling His Name
My God Why Have You Abandoned Me?
There Is Only The Usual Silence And The Soul Is Restless
Anticipating To Get Out From The Body That Is Killing And Wasting Itself
And The Time Has Come For The Soul To Be Liberated To Be Alone
In Itself Moving Towards The Light, Dancing In The Dark, And Singing Out Aloud
My God Here I Am Back To You
It Is Only In You That I Find Back Peace And Happiness & Bliss.
Let That Soul Be Me My Lord
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Restless Heart
(coverdale/vandenberg)
Restless heart, restless mind,
Im tired of wasting,
My precious time.
There are times in my life,
I dont know witch way to turn,
When everything I touch
I get my fingers burned...
Dreams to ashes, ashes to dust,
When all that glitters
Is dull with rust...
Restless heart, restless mind,
Im tired of wasting,
My precious time...
Im torn and tattered,
Shattered and worn,
Ive had enough
Trying to live my life
In the eye of the storm...
Every heartache
Leaves a scar on my face,
Somebody reach out
Or throw me a line,
Get me out of this place...
Restless heart, restless mind,
Im tired of wasting, wasting,
My precious time...
Oh, so tired.
Restless heart, restless mind,
Im tired of wasting,
My precious time...
Restless heart, restless mind,
Im tired of wasting, wasting,
All of my precious time...
Restless heart, restless mind,
So Im tired of wasting, wasting,
All of my precious time, time, time
Restless heart...
song performed by by Whitesnake
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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
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Life - 1240 - Initial Version
Life comes and goes as fortune flows
It never knows what cause it sows
For cycle slows or speeds, and those
Effects wind blows truth seldom shows.
Like April snows regrets melt: rose
In May soon glows to blossom grows,
Fling sorrow's bows and arrows, woes
End now, and close Time's book, compose
Lines which oppose all sadness owes
In verse or prose no debt - transpose
Free soul which chose as joy arose.
Expose nor woes nor hope foreclose.
LIfe shadows swallows, overthrows,
FEels rose row grows for soul's repose.
(April 19 2005)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Achieving Bliss
Imagination plays the
Strings of my heart
Soft like a mandolin
Catching glimpses
Of a Rose blushed dawn
Gentle Spring whisper
Glistening dew
Sweet memories in view
Tender glows of my core
They cover me
In warmth
As the suns rays
Bathe my body and mind
I wonder if this is
What people mean
When they say
They've achieved
The perfect Zen?
A medative flow
Rapture tranquil
Repose of the Soul
Much the same
As a God-given kiss
Achieving
If you will
A perfect state
Of sheer bliss
poem by Theodora Onken
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A Healthy Body Means A Healthy Mind
Everybody wants
A healthy body
A compassionate heart
A fine smooth mind
A skin that glows
Hairs that are soft
And freely flow
As smooth as silk
As soft as a cloud
The one who has them
Makes him feel proud
To have a body like this
One does not have to do
Anything special
Has to develop
The habit of excercise
Do not eat food
That is junk and greasy
Respect and preserve
The gift god has given to you
Take Care of your body
The body shall keep you
And your heart happy
Throughout your life
Disease
Shall not come
Near you
Love your body
It shall love you
Never forget
A healthy body means
A healthy mind
poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
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Turn To Ashes
I'm not sick, I'm just a boy
Sifting through the newfound lie
And I'll be crawling through these ashes and dissecting all these flies
Since the sun has died and it is still somewhat July
Is this all the world has to offer?
And I don't know how much you thought I'd be
It turns to ashes on me
One more piece inside these lines
Deeper harms my disguise
And everyone is different so everyone is sly
And everything's still horrible since everyone still dies
Is this all the world has to offer?
And I don't know how much you thought I'd be
It turns to ashes on me
Is this all the world has to offer?
It turns to ashes on me
No one is safe
song performed by by 36 Crazyfists
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Life's Tides 1240 Current Version
Linked ebbs and flows, tides fortune blows,
It never knows what cause it sows
For cycle slows or speeds, and those
Effects winds chose truth seldom shows.
Like April snows regrets melt: rose
In May soon glows to blossom grows.
Fling sorrow's bows and sharp arrows,
Enjoy life 'til Time's pages close
Life which opposes sadness owes
In verse or prose no debt, transpose
Free soul cleansed whole as joy arose.
Expose no woes nor hope foreclose.
Life shadows swallows, overthrows,
Feels garden grows for heart's repose.
(11 January 2009)
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Act I, Scene I: The Finale
Why can't existence
Have intermissions?
Temporary suicides
To keep us in line
And make us want
To come back to life—
Then we may find the meaning
That we have searched for
Throughout anthropology.
But, nevertheless,
We must subject life
To diminishing marginal equality
And force the darkness in—
Slowly
Slowly in.
Slowly through the doors
To the mind, the body, the soul:
Corruption. Hellish corruption.
Inside-out, outside-in
It makes little difference
In the long run,
The life span.
Years go by
Without a break
Without a single break
Like leaving the monitor on,
As it constantly runs
Slower and slower,
Wasting electricity—
The vitality within our walls.
Until the power outage,
The black out,
The end
Of possible existence.
Reboot.
Recharge.
Reasses s.
Come back.
But always, tired friends,
It'll still be the first act.
A Rose Arose
Of all that nature’s garden grows
the fairest flower is the Rose,
bending to each breeze that blows.
Rose beauty, joy, together sows, -
‘Tis true, as everybody knows, -
inadequately penned in prose.
For from her crown all colour flows,
her petals pink or red she shows,
with white or amber, golden glows.
‘Tis said, or so the story goes,
her spiny thorns are elf arrows
to scare the sprites from the meadows.
In slumber see her heart enclose
bee’s happiness, in sweet repose,
unsullied by harsh winter snows.
Both dark and bright, white, virgin shows, -
the rose from Paradise arose,
and on Time's wing she blows, she blows.
poem by Jonathan Robin
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A Sinking Soul
sink
sink
sink
sink
my
soul
to
sleep
at
the
bottom
of
the
dream
find
your
self
know
your
self
sink
sink
sink
m y
soul
why
are
you
so
silen t?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Elegy To A Bee
I found a bee upon the grass
Who faced his final hour
And cupped him gently in my hand
Then set him on a flower.
A sweet white rose that nestle him
In petals, cotton soft,
Whose fragrance, as he breathed is last,
Bore his soul aloft.
And though his tiny body lies
Within the roses' breast,
His spirit shines, his song still hums
In every flower he kissed.
poem by Karen M. Stakem
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A Song Of Spring
The Spring comes slowly up this way,
Slowly, slowly,
Under a snood of hodden grey.
The black and white for her array,
Slowly, slowly,
The Spring comes slowly up this way.
Where is her green that was so gay?
Slowly, slowly,
The Spring comes slowly up this way.
Unto a world too sick for May,
Slowly, slowly,
The Spring comes slowly up this way.
Where are the lads that used to play?
Slowly, slowly,
The Spring comes slowly up this way.
She has no heart for holiday,
Slowly, slowly,
The Spring comes slowly up this way.
The trees are out in Heaven they say.
Slowly, slowly,
The Spring comes slowly up our way.
poem by Katharine Tynan
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This is my body
This is my body that you see
It is beautiful carved by God’s hands
Smoothened by His breaths
You will love it and want to have it
To touch and caress
To be feasted upon by the hunger
Of your eyes and thirst of your lips
To be rubbed by the coldness of your body
Seeking the warmth of my flesh
This is my body that you will first see
But there is more in me than my body
This soul that seeks your soul
This beautiful soul that seeks the beauty of your soul
The hands of my spirit reaching out to your invisible hands
They have all for years been longing to clasp
My soul longing to be with your soul
So they can be together
To be fused with each other as one
To be happy and calm and perfect
To that final place where this body
Shies away because something more beautiful
Inside it shines and glows and becomes
So beautiful in all eternity
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Black and White
Black and White By Dilantha Gunawardana
A story in black and white
Black and white;
Black in white; perhaps black on white;
White embedded in black;
Black around white, sprinkle or a speckle even a trickle;
Shadows on the porch on an eerie white night;
A piano keyboard, intertwined in ebony and white;
A checker or a droughts board or lofty chess pieces;
Black stallions and white mares;
All galloping in the pursuit of unending happiness;
A flow of nimbus with a speckle of cumulus;
Showers of blessings, black rain and even snow and hale;
The smog that kisses the snow flake clouds;
Chimneys and embers inside snowy winter bungalows;
We begin in ashes, black residual ashes;
Connected to a white umbilical cord;
We are born white, virgins in every sphere of life;
Then we learn of the agony of the ebony;
Even the bright light of white, even white water that softens our stance;
Criss-cross, diagonal, straight or in jumps in the many paths of life;
Life, a game of chess, as we sprinkle our lives with black and white;
And in the end, we are left with nothing but black and white;
A powdered white peau against the back dropp of a charcoal black suit
In an ebony coffin, with white shimmering handles
Then we burn in to ashes, residual embers
Ashes to ashes, powder of our existence
Black and white;
Our true essence of life.
poem by Dilantha Gunawardana
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Understand
Soul, you must understand
how this body sleeps with you.
Soul, you must remember
it has separate manners with you.
Soul, learn the sensual pleasures
of this body, its twists and turns,
its crooked ways, its perverted ways,
its insatiability, even its evil ways,
Soul, you have all the patience,
when the body is rested before its
time is over, Soul, awaken it,
shake it, let it shed off its dusts
of errors, its stains of lusts,
wash it with fasting, and repentance
Soul, be wise, and kind enough to
save this Body, until it rusts and
to dust it shall return, and Soul
when you go up there, Forget.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Soul Please Understand
Soul, you must understand
how this body sleeps with you.
Soul, you must remember
it has separate manners with you.
Soul, learn the sensual pleasures
of this body, its twists and turns,
its crooked ways, its perverted ways,
its insatiability, even its evil ways,
Soul, you have all the patience,
when the body is rested before its
time is over, Soul, awaken it,
shake it, let it shed off its dusts
of errors, its stains of lusts,
wash it with fasting, and repentance
Soul, be wise, and kind enough to
save this Body, until it rusts and
to dust it shall return, and Soul
when you go up there, Forget.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dancing With Soul
Standing chilled
Head down, surrounded by sound
Lights embracing the human body
Keeping it nurtured and warm
Head up, eyes stare forward
Everyone in an avalanche of dance
A raging community of movement
Yet you, the outsider stay glued to the ground
You’re asked to dance
By the coolest collective cat on the dynamic delicious dance floor
You know this person
They go by “Soul”
Why so shy?
If Soul can cut a rug, you can be the fabric
If Soul can bust loose, then you can also untighten
If Soul can dance the night away, don’t you dear go to sleep
Tonight is a special night
The dancing is not for singles
But for doubles
Don’t be afraid, dance with Soul
Dancing with Soul, you can feel it
Dramatic drums beating in your head
Soft iced guitar strings flicking your arms
Overpowered synthesized voice escaping your mouth
Your body a liquid rhythm of a harmonic ocean
You and Soul are one
This is no ones Soul
This is YOUR Soul
poem by Paul Celano
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