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Campus Sonnets: Talk

Tobacco smoke drifts up to the dim ceiling
From half a dozen pipes and cigarettes,
Curling in endless shapes, in blue rings wheeling,
As formless as our talk. Phil, drawling, bets
Cornell will win the relay in a walk,
While Bob and Mac discuss the Giants' chances;
Deep in a morris-chair, Bill scowls at 'Falk',
John gives large views about the last few dances.

And so it goes - an idle speech and aimless,
A few chance phrases; yet I see behind
The empty words the gleam of a beauty tameless,
Friendship and peace and fire to strike men blind,
Till the whole world seems small and bright to hold -
Of all our youth this hour is pure gold.

poem by Stephen Vincent Benet
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Talk

Tobacco smoke drifts up to the dim ceiling
From half a dozen pipes and cigarettes,
Curling in endless shapes, in blue rings wheeling,
As formless as our talk. Phil, drawling, bets
Cornell will win the relay in a walk,
While Bob and Mac discuss the Giants' chances;
Deep in a morris-chair, Bill scowls at "Falk",
John gives large views about the last few dances.

And so it goes -- an idle speech and aimless,
A few chance phrases; yet I see behind
The empty words the gleam of a beauty tameless,
Friendship and peace and fire to strike men blind,
Till the whole world seems small and bright to hold --
Of all our youth this hour is pure gold.

poem by Stephen Vincent Benet
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hanover Winter Song

Ho, a song by the fire;
Pass the pipes, pass the bowl.
Ho, a song by the fire
With a skoal, with a skoal.
Ho, a song by the fire;
Pass the pipes with a skoal,
For the wolf-wind is wailing at the doorways,
And the snow drifts deep along the road,
And the ice gnomes are marching from their Norways,
And the great white cold walks abroad.

But, here by the fire, we defy frost and storm;
Ha, ha we are warm, and we have our heart's desire.
For here, we're good fellows, and the beechwood and the bellows;
And the cup is at the lip in the pledge of fellowship.
Oh, here by the fire, we defy frost and storm;
Ha, ha, we are warm, and we have our heart's desire.
For here we're good fellows, and the beechwood and the bellows.
And the cup is at the lip in the pledge of fellowship,
Of fellowship

Pile the logs on the fire;
Fill the pipes, pass the bowl.
Pile the logs on the fire
With a skoal, with a skoal.
Pile the logs on the fire;
Fill the pipes with a skoal,
For the fire goblins flicker on the ceiling,
And the wine witch glitters in the glass,
And the smoke wraiths are drifting, curling, reeling,
And the sleigh bells jingle as they pass.

But, here by the fire, we defy frost and storm;
Ha, ha we are warm, and we have our heart's desire.
For here, we're good fellows, and the beechwood and the bellows;
And the cup is at the lip in the pledge of fellowship.
Oh, here by the fire, we defy frost and storm;
Ha, ha, we are warm, and we have our heart's desire.
For here we're good fellows, and the beechwood and the bellows.
And the cup is at the lip in the pledge of fellowship,
Of fellowship

Oh, a God is the fire;
Pull the pipes, drain the bowl.
Oh, a God is the fire
With a skoal, with a skoal.
Oh, a God is the fire;
Pull the pipes with a skoal,
For the room has a spirit in the embers,
Tis a God and our fathers knew his name,
And they worship'd him in long-forgot Decembers,
And their hearts leap'd high with the flame.

poem by Richard Hovey
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His Youth

his youth was spent
upon lighted cigarettes
upon circles of
smoke above his head
lost in the ceiling.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Ned’s Delicate Way

Ned knew I was short of tobacco one day,
And that I was too proud to ask for it;
He hated such pride, but his delicate way
Forbade him to take me to task for it.

I loathed to be cadging tobacco from Ned,
But, when I was just on the brink of it;
‘I’ve got a new brand of tobacco”, he said –
“Try a smoke, and let’s know what you think of it.”

poem by Henry Lawson
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Baby Chemicals In Addiction Cigarettes

calm smokes in 4000 plus list chemicals
baby chemicals in addiction cigarettes
in need tobacco smoke kill victim bodies

poem by Terence George Craddock
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Russian Roulette

Hey boy pushin on your girlfriend
Trying to show her all the pain you feel inside
Yeah and head all scrambled and the love is gone
And you dont know what went wrong
But I think I heard you hissing something about blue steel
But when you talk about something like gun play
Let me tell you its a losing bet
But when the hammer falls all bets are called
And five to one youre gonna lose
When you talk about something like russian roulette
Tears run down your sweet loves face
I say shes a mirror of your insides
And you cant scream loud enough to let it go
And you mouthful of pride you just cant swallow
Rips your soul like a hurricane tide
But when you talk about something like gun play
Let me tell you its a losing bet
But when the hammer falls all bets are called
And five to one youre gonna lose
When you talk about something like russian roulette
Pack up your ego and your tantrum
Put it back with your anger and your pride
Beating up on your girlfriend
Aint gonna change anything inside
But when you talk about something like gun play
Let me tell you its a losing bet
But when the hammer falls all bets are called
And five to one youre gonna lose
When you talk about something like russian roulette

song performed by by Edwin McCain
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Smoke Two Joints

(she was living in a single room with three other individuals.
One of them was a male and the other two, well, the other two were females.
God only know what they were up to in there.
And furthermore susan, I wouldnt be the least bit surprised to learn that all four of them
Habitually smoke marijuana cigarettes... reefers)
I smoke two joints in the morning.
I smoke two joints at night.
I smoke two joints in the afternoon, it makes me feel alright
I smoke two joints in time of peace, and two in time of war
I smoke two joints before I smoke two joints,
And then I smoke two more
Smoked cigarettes til the day she died
Toke a big spliff of some good sensimillia
Smoked cigarettes til the day she died
Toke a big spliff of some good sensamill...
Easy-e were ya ever caught slippin? hell no!
Daddy he once told me son you be hard workin man
And momma she once told me son you do the best you can
But, then one day I met a man who came to me and said
Hard work good, and hard work fine but first take care of head
(guitar solo)
Whoa, rock me tonight,
Whoa-oh, jah sake,
Whoa-ohh

song performed by by Sublime
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Death Wink Watches Smokers Burn Time

yes we knew you were smoking extra
stress does that reaction to corpus reasons
eat me drink me impact implications

smoking eat smoke inhale lit consequences
smoking lurks among thinner thinner drugs
produces need to infuse body in toxic soups

calm smokes in 4000 plus list chemicals
baby chemicals in addiction cigarettes
in need tobacco smoke kill victim bodies

smoking harmful over 50 known carcinogens
carcinogens cause cancer in inhaling humans
so many poisons rest delight to smoker graves

nice virgin new pack light up your cancer sticks
use as intended cigarettes sold legally crave favours
each need puff puff accumulates over time kills

so few products packaged so appallingly sold legally
tobacco companies out fox pending ongoing lawsuits
avoid health long term effects smoking responsibilities

what words could I pose what list pain suffering illnesses
exhaustive would stimulate horror in smoker smog minds?
what chemicals in cigarettes will people fear flee recognize?

rational mind puff is not addictive mind plead pax denials
poisons self inhaled leisure cruise smoker bloodstreams
recognize relate rat bait harmful disease dire consequences

poem by Terence George Craddock
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Endless Stream Of Tears

I cry awake at night and hug my pillow
And pray that I will die before I wake
No such luck
Another day of cryin
Dont know how much more my old heart can break
Flooded with these memories and emotions
The tears like rain keep on falling down
They say that Ill forget
But my face is just as wet
As it was the day you left this town
Chorus:
Drowning in this endless, endless
Drowning in an endless stream of tears
Its relentless and Im defenseless
Drowning in an endless stream of tears
I cant believe that I can talk about it
I never thought Id live to see this day
But a broken heart wont kill you
You just want to die
But you have to go on livin anyway
I feel it through and through
And Ive never been so blue
And I cried a river over you
Repeat chorus
Oh, Im drowning in this endless, endless
Drowning in this endless, endless
Drowning in this endless, endless
Drowning in this endless stream of tears

song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Blue Chair

Now its just you and me, my blue friend
And you say that its you that shes thinking of
And our affair must end
But if its you that shes thinking of
I think my broken heart might mend
Chorus: now its my turn to talk and your turn to think
Your turn to buy and my turn to drink
Your turn to cry and my turn to sink down in the blue chair
Down in the blue chair
Now Ive made up my mind Ive made my mistake
And I know that she cries for you
When shes barely awake
Well shes going to bend your mind
Well I hope it dont break
Chorus
Down in the blue chair
We can watch our troubles rise
Like smoke into the air
And drift up to the ceiling
Down in the blue chair
You can feel just like a boy or a man
And next minute you can find yourself kneeling
Down in the blue chair
Theyre boasting of loving the daylights right out of her in the small hours
Down in the blue chair
You say that your love lasts forever when you know the night just hours
And still I want her right now
Not any minute, hour or day
And wherever she is tonight
I want her anyway
I suppose she never said to you,
You were just in the way
Chorus
Down in the blue chair
Down in the blue
Blue becomes you
Down in the blue chair

song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Like your heart dropped acid

And you know you're half broken; feels like your jutting ribs are cutting into you more every day. I don't have to watch your envy kick your pride in the balls. I don't have to listen as your enigma prevails in an argument with facts. A mind cast to the gallows, a Holocaust for your very own heart. You can roll those sunken eyes all you want, dearie.

Subtle at first. One smoke, two smoke, three smoke, four... And, karmic, no one ever questioned you about it as you had hoped, even though you had an answer for every cigarette. Overdoses and guns were too shocking; slitting wrists too much like a teenage girl. (Sometimes, I wonder if you forgot that's what you were.) Out-and-out suicide was wrong, you said, but it lost its sting if you strung it out over decades. All our old friends, the ones you started hanging out with again, the ones who quit smoking, they'll roll cigarettes for you. They love to roll cigarettes, and roll their earrings, and argue about anarchy. And you love them, and you love the cigarettes, the music, the sweat and patchouli, the panhandling, how their...your...minds always beat in straight time.

But you fell measures behind, and the music, the freight-hopping, the cigarettes, they mean nothing to you now. Everyone knows your beauty scars aren't from brambles or kittens, and that's the way you like it. You can only use that bleach as an excuse for hair caught in the drain for so long.

I'm listening to you recount your inner-battles, with all the vehemence of a wall flower, and I finally understand.

You just want to be beautifully fucked up. Or pretty, like your heart dropped acid.

poem by Claire Stuart
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Tobacco

The Indian weed, withered quite,
Green at noon, cut down at night,
Shows thy decay; all flesh is hay,
Thus thinke, then drinke tobacco.

The pipe that is so lily-white,
Shows thee to be a mortal wight;
And even such, gone with a touch,
Thus thinke, then drinke tobacco.

And when the smoke ascends on high,
Thinke thou beholdest the vanity
Of worldly stuffe, gone with a puffe,
Thus thinke, then drinke tobacco.

And when the pipe grows foul within,
Think on thy soule defil'd with sin,
And then the fire it doth require.
Thus thinke, then drinke tobacco.

The ashes that are left behind,
May serve to put thee still in mind,
That unto dust return thou must.
Thus thinke, then drinke tobacco.

poem by George Wither
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Chessmen

CHAFING on flags of ebony and pearl,
My paladins are waiting. Loops of smoke
Stoop slowly from the coffee-cups, and curl
In thin fantastic patterns down the room
By cabinets of chinaware, to whirl
With milky-blue tobacco-steam, and fume
Together past our pipes, outside the door.
Soon may we lounge in silence, O my friend,
Behind those carven men-at-arms of chess
Dyed coral-red with dragon's blood, and spend
The night with noiseless warfare. Queens and rooks
With chiselled ivory warriors must contend
And counter-plots from old Arabian books
Be conjured to the march of knights and pawns.

poem by Kenneth Slessor
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Talk More Talk

A master can highlight the phrases,
Sleasy instruments, half talked, half baked ideas...
Dad, you didnt say o.k....
The window was open, outside was a spaceship,
(a master can highlight the phrases) it took off into the sky
Leaving a trail of smoke behind it...
Short of the standard. was it the sun?
What was rehearsal? conventional drum?
Not quite a hundred. less that a ton.
Clearly the time came, the plan had begun.
With talk, more talk. chat, more chat.
Words of a feather are worn in a hat.
Talk, more talk. chat, more chat. Im happy to do it for you...
Developed since earlier days at the school
Cheapest sensations were used as a rule.
Outstanding to memory, major free flow.
Bio-degradable, look out below for...
Talk, more talk, oh I love to hear the gentle sound
Of conversation sprinkled around
A room where I can be at one with you for...
Talk, more talk. chat, more chat,
Words of a feather are worn in a hat.
Talk, more talk. chat, more chat. happy to do it for you...
Im happy to do it for you... Im happy to do it for you,
Im happy to do it, Im happy to do it... Im happy to do it for you.
Digital organ, finishing stretch, instrumentation, analogue gretsch.
Not quite a thousand, lower than that.
Possible bargain for listening at that...
Talk, more talk. chat, more chat.
Words of a feather are worn in a hat.
Talk, more talk. chat, more chat.
Im happy to do it for you...
All you want is a handyman and all you want is quick service.
Because Im a house owner. Im a house owner.
It may be worth something someday.
I hear water going through the pipes.
I dont actually like sitting down music. music is idea.
Talk, more talk. chat, more chat.
Words of a feather are worn in a hat.
Talk, more talk. chat, more chat.
A master can tell, highlight the phrases his words to digress
Grey flannel trousers... grey flannel trousers.
A blazer and grey flannel trousers.

song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Coffee Cigarettes and Time

The late afternoon invites leisurely
to inactivity and rest The best time to sit back
and be waited on like a guest At the corner
coffee shop where the air is thick with smoke
People play pool in the back room placing bets
that provoke The writer who lives alone
on the thirteenth floor is relaxed He smiles
unnoticeably having a completed chapter faxed

The bartender is preparing for the night and
Happy Hour Inventing new fancy drinks
that are potent sweet or sour The old guy
sitting at the bar in no rush to get home on time
Shares opinions over strong coffee about a
forgotten war crime A woman ordered wine
getting cigarettes from the machine Slowly strolls
across the room wearing a stone of aquamarine

Late rush hour traffic encourages to hang out
for a while Two attractive men in the corner sharing
kisses really shy From the speakers on the wall we
can hear a funky jazz tune Sitting in club chairs smoking
stirring coffee with a spoon Time stands still for a
little while when it starts to rain Streaks of water
leave teardrops on the sidewalk as in pain

The streetcar stops and new people join
our convention Accompanied by laughter they
do not pay much attention Rings of smoke take off
being swallowed by the big room Some people order
appetizers but all you smell is perfume The walls
are plastered with old posters of musicians past Here
all you need is coffee cigarettes and time that lasts

poem by Kristina Louisa Carr
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Endless Blue Sky

Endless blue sky
When I look upon that sky, that sky of endless blue, seeing those birds fly. I feel like I’m
flying too, when I stand somewhere so high, look at that endless blue sky. I wished I could flying next to them, looking at the earth with the wind in my hair, the feeling of driving through clouds. O I wished that I could fly in that endless blue sky.

poem by Thomas Tromblee
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Wheeling

So the Earth is wheeling on
As wheeling the sun and moon

And wheeling the Time on ages and aeons
As wheeling the life on births and deaths

And wheeling on are hope and despair
As peace and woe chasing one another

And good and bad luck are two wheels
creatures all in destiny's colours

And creatures all wheel around what
An unknown power-point, the Pivot

And we the comparted wheeling specials
On quarrels are we to spin our visuals

And we the comparted human specials
Aren't we to wheel on our sixth sense

poem by Indira Renganathan
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Black clouds of smoke rise
Escaping out of steel pipes;
Seek the blue of sky…

haiku by Mamta Agarwal
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Old Town Types No. 6 - Flash Phil

Still I've the picture of him - Flash Phil Galloway;
In a shining dog-cart driving down the road;
Spanking ponies dashing by,
Running tandem, stepping high;
Silver-plated harness where the sunlight glowed.
Everybody waved to him - Kind Phil Galloway
Bright eye, curling hair, big blond moustache.
No man, in those feckless days,
Thought to curb his reckless ways:
'Right man for the district, sir; tho' just a trifle rash.'

Flash Phil Galloway owned a station property
Left him by his father, back in sixty-nine;
Owned a stretch of sheepland, too,
Left him by his Uncle Lou;
Owned his mother's big estate along the Ballantyne
Three tidy fortunes: and Phil upon a race day
Standing for a luncheon - frills and fancy grub.
'Champagne and caviar,
Every toff a big cigar,
All the tucker packed in ice! Oysters in a tub!'

Flash Phil Galloway, loaded down with mortgages,
Deep in mining ventures 'to make another rise.'
Debonair and reckless still
Generous - the same old Phil,
While kindly bankers were ready with supplies.
Bluff Phil Galloway chatting with the manager:
'Where do I sign this one? Read it? Haw, what rot!'
The banker, as he folds the deed:
'And how much, this time, will you need?'
Laughs Flash Phil Galloway, 'Gad! How much have you got?'

Old Phil Galloway, grey haired and garrulous,
Stopping old acquaintances along the city ways,
Hanging round the leading pub
Lounging by the Squatters' Club
Half-crowns changing hands 'for sake of olden days . . . .'
But I keep my picture of him - Flash Phil Galloway
In a shining dog-cart - I can see him still:
Spanking ponies dashing by,
Running tandem, stepping high;
Silver plated harness - 'Hey! Happy days, Phil!'

poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Anti Tobacco

Walking down, I see half- burnt killer pipes,
Lying on the streets, after hurting many lives..
The silly lips who touch the burning devil,
Are to be dead soon, can't sign even their 'will'!

I see the teeth chewing the tobacco products,
In the surroundings of the stores of betel nuts..
There's one each in the corner of every street,
But dozens of people gathered around for the treat!

When it is printed on the box itself,
That smoking is injurious to health..
Why dare to smoke with a sip of tea?
And compete with the smoke clouds; How pleasing to see!

The Government fell through to make them aware,
They carry on smoking; None does care..
The roll of paper is burnt even by boys of sixteen,
To face the fatal consequences of nicotene..

One day, like the cigarette, your face would burn,
Diseases, cancers and then it is Death's turn..
And when you're being wished farewell on your deathbed,
Nothing but tears will reveal you regret..

One would ask 'How can you make the Death Prediction? '
I say, ' I'm clever enough to know the results of this worst addiction! '
For the sake of mankind, I would like to advise,
'Leave smoking, Behave wise! '

poem by Abhinit Chute
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