The Chimney
this morning...this morning..this morning
the chimney of the desolate house in front of mine
is smoking...smoking...smoking
what a lovely sight
who may be there
on the snow
white smoke onthe white snow
the bare plum tree is
grinning...grinning..grinning
the black crow
on the hazel nut tree
crowing...crowing...crowing
as if life is newly beginning...beginning...beginning
guess..who is there...who is there
behind the yellow lignt seen at night
shining from the desolate window
someone...someone....someone
living. ..emerging from the house
ı wish all the chimneys of the lonely poor smoked
in the wilderness of the cold..cold of the snow
what a happy and a lovely sight
the desolate chimney is smoking...smoking...smoking
ı wish ı were in this old house too
with the mystery of the ancients
where they have come
ı never knew
the desolate house is reviving this morn
ı only see the shadows
growing...growing....growing..and moving
poem by Metin Sahin
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Related quotes
Smokin The Herb Again
Yo yo yo, yo, yo yo what
Smoking
Were smoking, were smoking the herb again
Were smoking, were smoking, were smoking the herb again
Were smoking, were smoking, were smoking the herb again
Were smoking, were smoking, were smoking the herb again
Damn, I really wish I could find my sack man
Must have got eaten by pac-man
If I had it I could smoke again
Smoke with my friends to the very end
But now Im trying to comprehend
Whens the next time that Ill smoke again
I need to know, please tell when will we smoke again
I got a buddy, his name is ted
Hes got a problem going through his head
He doesnt know how to puff puff give
But I like so Ill teach him and Ill let him live
Everyday we teach him right
When he divides, we have to fight
But at the end of the trying day
We says its ok and we puff away
Just the other night, I saw you, you were smokin not sharing and being tight
But thats ok, you are my friend, well smoking until the very end
The lessons that we put out, we order you to try it out
Its nice to smoke, yea thats what were all about
Smoking
Were smoking, were smoking the herb again
Were smoking, were smoking, were smoking the herb again
Were smoking, were smoking, were smoking the herb again
Were smoking, were smoking, were smoking the herb again
Hey, ho, hey ho, hey, ho, hey, ho, hey, ho, hey, ho
I smoke, you smoke, we smoke, they smoke, smoking everywhere
I smoke, you smoke, we smoke, they smoke, smoking all together
Smoking
Were smoking, were smoking the herb again
Were smoking, were smoking, were smoking the herb again
Were smoking, were smoking, were smoking the herb again
Were smoking, were smoking, were smoking the herb again
song performed by by Incubus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Snow wonderland
Matching scratches
White square patterns, design by print feet.
Back and forward & square.
Walking straight to shine light & moving shadow
Reflect the way home
Cold needles are sewing the red faces looking around.
Everything is enchanted by light and mud.
Pine tree green cover in a sweet icing.
Drops, smoking, cold melting ice
On my hands warmed pocket.
Broken snow, walking on the front steps.
Inside the house, outside a paint window
Nature a great painter.
After the night.
Museum of white morning colours
Shouting scarf's and boots
Angels games.
Raining melting tree.
Warm grey sky.
White bushes with orange and red berry faces.
White pyramids of smoking chimney.
Keeping warm thrones.
poem by Luca Menin
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Backwater Baby
Down past Possum Road
Up towards the crumbling town
You'll find a house with a little lady
Down by the backwater
Of the trickling little stream
There is a house made of logs
And mud, with one little window
And a smoking chimney
Puffing tiny gray clouds into the bright blue sky.
When you step inside the ramshackle house
You'll hear the incessant crying
Of the backwater baby
Dealing with her own little troubles
By the trickling little stream
In the middle of nowhere, USA
As momma tries her hardest to survive
And daddy long gone, looking for a better life
Leaving the baby to cry.
Momma does what she can to live
Washing clothes for the rich people down the street
Keeping little baby going as best as she can
And singing on the weekends in the bar downtown
Leaving baby alone and crying
In her broken crib
Back at the stream down past Possum Road
In the tiny log house with the smoking chimney
Life goes on.
poem by Megan Ayscue
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Your Problems
You keep smoking your problems,
Like some beast to burn, to learn.
Killing is an art too proud,
Hastening the arrival of death.
My astonishment happened everywhere
When starting a dangerous role.
The kill was being performed from nowhere,
Surprising us still with its meek manner,
Lunch is being served, with ferocity.
May the smoking be condemned
In hats and coats, inside the house as well.
This is the house of every death.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Why Are You Running?
Why are you running so far, so fast?
What are you running from, may I ask?
I don't know, it's just something I must do
Those others are running, do you want to come too?
Why are you smoking so often, so deep
Surely that smoke stings your eyes, makes you weep
I don't know, it's just something I must do
Those others are smoking, do you want to smoke too?
You're all running, all smoking, but you don't know why
You just do it and do it, but it makes me cry
Because I don't like to see people themselves kill
When they don't know why but they do it still
(Sydney, Australia - 2003)
poem by Alessandra Liverani
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World of White
When I woke up this morning
My world was layered in white
So cold it was and very still
Snow had fallen through the night
No birds chirped a good morning
The bugs were hidden away
Instead was this harsh cold
I felt as though it would stay
I could barely see my lawn chair
For white had settled so thick
I wished I had seen it fall
This snow as it began to stick
The trees and bushes were
A fresh and lovely sight
Snow decorated the branches
Making winter look just right
We must enjoy the changes
So lovely and cold and bright
It will not last for long
This wonderful world of white!
poem by Marilyn Lott
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Been Smoking Too Long
Well I wake up in the morning
Look at my clock
Its way past noon time
Now Im late for work.
Tell me, tell me
What have I done wrong?
Aint nothing go right with me
Must be Ive been smoking too long.
Well I go to find me some breakfast
But I aint got no food
Take me a shower
But the water dont feel no good.
Tell me...
Ive got opium in my chimney
No other life to choose
Nightmare made of hash dreams.
Got the devil in my shoes
Tell me...
Well when Im smoking
Put my worries on a shelf
Dont think about nothin
Try not to see myself.
Tell me...
Well in this blues Im singin
Theres a lesson to be learned
Dont go around smokin
Unless you want to get burned.
Tell me...
song performed by by Nick Drake
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fog
Old movie morning...
The sun barely breathes, silver & grey colours.
Black & white grass heads, crying dew tears.
The land wakes with mugs of stemming smoke.
Revealing absorbing true shapes
Of tree grey morning bones
Wet tongue on my ears.
Whisper shadow from the lamp light.
Blind eyes draw, unintelligible figures.
Not much to see, on the walls' house.
Trapped in mimic cage.
The fog tricks silver and grey hats.
Of smoking breaths.
poem by Luca Menin
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Tess... Tess
Sad tortured hillside, against
a pastel slate sky;
mute; purple stucco stubble.
Smoking chimney; early morning lit.
Wind blown, lean trees
beautified mystical silver birch;
doors of classrooms; I to enter do not want.
Morning tea; on a wooden bench.
Black top, sexy miniskirt
terracotta pots;
matchbox houses; ghastly trousers.
Leaves sparkling; wind turned.
Smoking crayon, set
against an ash-grey sky;
swirling; blue grey mist.
Toast; vapour steamed.
Dog!
lichen on wild; wall top undisturbed;
man on lawn mower; that win lotto didn't.
Dog!
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Sonnet- Stop Smoking, Could You Please!
Oh listen Sir, Oh listen please, will you?
“Cigarette smoke is injurious to health”,
And in the stages last what can you do?
Life pathetic turns, despite all your wealth.
Enough’s is enough, please draw the line, will you?
Give up your smoking habit, Now, today!
In life, there are much better things to do;
I plead to you to follow what I say.
All men on earth are imperfect, may be;
Our body, God gave us is so sacred;
It is not late to cease smoking- Be free;
Beware the Killer can pronounce one DEAD.
Oh listen Sir! cease smoking now, TODAY!
This is my Warning, Please and how I say.
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Chronic Smoking In Indonesia
All those millions millions of chain smokers
smoking all over islands Indonesia better stop
cut back your influencing jealous environment
it is November 4th 2010 and today twenty two
volcanoes here are smoking in social sympathy
dudes smoking kills more deadly like disasters
serious loss are your cancer deaths to families
harsh reality unhappiness death is by your hand
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Well, I quit smoking three weeks ago and I had a hard day today not smoking.
quote by Eric Roberts
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Smoking dogs...!
Dogs
Did not smoking
Men and women smoking
It is seakreat of health...
With the dog....?
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Infuse Body In Toxic Soups
smoking eat smoke inhale lit consequences
smoking lurks among thinner thinner drugs
produces need to infuse body in toxic soups
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Lost Paradise
It was a spring
Early in the morning
A bird on the wing
Old lonely men were smoking and drinking
Past days remembering.
Day time I did nothing
Only reading
What else I had to do?
Except smoking and drinking.
I hear a lullaby
From far away
A sweet peculiar voice
Somewhere on the hills
Remembering my youth.
Oh! how I dreamed of her
Lost as a wounded soldier
The battle was over
We departed forever.
Oh! how I missed her
For my own fault
Still I can remember what she told.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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I was a militant smoker, and in my case, I think I particularly used smoking because what I felt was a kind of politically correct big brother assault on smoking.
quote by Joe Eszterhas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Gave Up smoking, smoking would not give me up.
Poem (Old man in the crystal morning after snow)
Old man in the crystal morning after snow,
Your throat swathed in a muffler, your bent
Figure building the snow man which is meant
For the grandchild's target,
do you know
This fat cartoon, his eyes pocked in with coal
Nears you each time your breath smokes the air,
Lewdly grinning out of a private nightmare?
He is the white cold shadow of your soul.
You build his comic head, you place his comic hat;
Old age is not so serious, and I
By the window sad and watchful as a cat,
Build to this poem of old age and of snow,
And weep: you are my snow man and I know
I near you, you near him, all of us must die.
poem by Delmore Schwartz
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Sonnet: Smoking Kills
He learnt to smoke from adolescent stage;
Yet, kicked the habit never, thereafter;
Now, he is only fifty years of age;
But gone completely is his life's laughter.
He smoked in chains and puffed smoke-rings away;
He is now chained to his smoking habit!
He sits now counting the hours in a day!
And feels his life, ebbing out, bit by bit.
His Lungs have become Cancerous by now;
The blood he coughed, revealed that Death was nigh;
There's no cure; To destiny, he will bow;
This is the case of persons low or high.
Beware, O Man, your smoking can kill you!
Your near and dear ones and some others too.
poem by John Celes
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Zoom-in
Snow flowers in the midst of lonely night,
Lonely moments wrapped in the mist,
The walkway, lit with the dim light of moon,
Cold and black road at
The gate of deserted house,
A forlorn voice, clings desperately to the window,
Doorsill, drowned in an unknown fear,
Everything, bewildered andspeechless,
Weary and desolate,
A lone candle on the table,
With the head thrown back
Eyes, fixed at the door.
Coffee cup on the table, cold and quite,
Distressing thoughts, daydreams and I,
A lonely book, in my cold lap and I.
poem by Amjad Islam Amjad
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