Shared Cigarette
O’Brien held the cigarette tight
Between forefinger and thumb
He placed it between lips and
Inhaled. Danny Davis wanted
A drag too and Eddie Sutcliffe
Stood like a young pup waiting
For his chew on the bone. They
Watched the end of the cigarette
Flare up in the early winter cold
Eddie rubbed his hands together
In anticipation. You kept an eye
Out for school prefects or any
Odd teacher who might happen
To venture forth into the school
Playground. I liberated this from
My dad’s packet, O’Brien said
Taking the cigarette from his lips
And passing it over to Davis who
Took a quick drag then gave it to
Sutcliffe who held it like a girl
Having her first kiss. No one was
Coming, so you had a quick drag
After Eddie had left drips of dribble
And inhaled the smoke. O’Brien
Made a comment about some
Girl he’d had or so he said the
Night before. Davis guffawed
Loudly, but Sutcliffe stood there
Opened mouthed while you
Half smiled and wondered if it
Was true about the girl’s arse
Or just some smutty joke
poem by Terry Collett
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Related quotes
Card Swapping
O’Brien brought
cigarette cards
to school
and showed you
what he had
in the playground
and Davis said
who’s the dame?
Veronica Lake
O’ Brien said
holding the card out
between finger and thumb
Sutcliffe took hold of it
and held it close
to his eyes
not bad
he said
you looked over
Sutcliffe’s shoulder
my dad likes her
you said studying
the picture
taking it
from Sutcliffe’s hand
who else you got?
Davis asked
and O’Brien fingered
through the pack
mostly soccer players
and the odd movie star
he said
hey got any Marilyn Monroe?
Sutcliffe said
gazing short-sightedly
at O’Brien’s hands
what’s a matter Eddie
got the hots for her?
Davis laughed
and Sutcliffe pulled
a face
wouldn’t say no
he muttered
wouldn’t say no?
O’Brien said
why Eddie you wouldn’t know
one end of a dame
from the other
you’d end up kissing
the wrong cheeks
Sutcliffe pulled a face
I’ll swap you
for the Veronica Lake
you said
holding it close
to your school jumper
sure
O’Brien said
and you swapped him
with a soccer player
you had three of
and he took it
and tucked it in his pack
and you put Veronica
in your jacket pocket
nice and snug
between the pages
of a jotting book
save and sound
waiting for
your bedtime look.
poem by Terry Collett
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That Austen Guy.
Here's your fare
for the bus to school
your mother said
but some days you walked
and spent the money
on doughnuts at the bakery
on the way to school
and you felt them warm
through the white paper bag
the baker had put them in
and you ate them on the way
then licked your fingers clean
like some fingery blow job
and Ed Sutcliffe met you
in the playground and said
You got sugar around your mouth
and he pointed
with his ink stained finger
and so you wiped
around your mouth
with your tongue
until all was clean
and you said
That Ok?
and he stared
at your mouth and lips
and said
Yeah that's better
and you said
Where's O'Brien?
He hasn't come yet
Sutcliffe said
but Austen's here
he drove up in his sports car
a few moments back
you sighed and looked
towards the place
where he parked his car
red and flashy
I suppose he'll be
in his usual
bullying mood again
said Sutcliffe
holding up
the clay pots
and saying
Look at this specimen
of a pot
and hold it
up for the class to see
Don't remind me
you said
Austen's a fink
with a face of pits
like the surface
of the moon
and Sutcliffe laughed
and it kind of eased
his nervousness
and you saw
in his blue eyes
that sharp fear
that people have
when another dies.
poem by Terry Collett
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Julie and You and Christ
Julie was walking
down Oxford Street
with you
one of her hands
was in yours
the other was holding
a cigarette which she put
to her lips and drew on
and exhaled the smoke
and said
pushing smoke
into the world
do you think Christ
ever came?
of course
you replied
the whole calendar
of the Western world
is spilt before and after
his coming
she inhaled deeply
and stopped to peer
in a shop window
don't like that dress
it's too darn middle class
too safe
you looked at the dress
in the window
at the colours and style
would your mother where it?
you asked
she'd wear it
but I wouldn't
be seen dead in it
she said
moving you on
squeezing your hand
reminding you
of the quick grope
and sex in the small cupboard
off the ward
where she was staying
while trying to kick
the drug habit
she spread out
amongst brooms and boxes
and you there gazing at her
wondering if some domestic
would find you there
well? do you think
Christ really came?
she asked
yes
you said
he split history in two
he made people
either love him
or hate him
and want to destroy him
and what he stood for
she laughed and said
you certainly got him
under your skin
I don't think he came at all
she said
before inhaling
her cigarette smoke
I think it was all
a big joke played out
on the Jews
to get them riled
she inhaled
her cigarette smoke
and was silent
as you walked on
down the Street
it was no joke
being crucified
no joke hanging there
on that cross
you said
she pulled you
into a shop doorway
and kissed you
and said
oh forget about him
and his crucifixion
I've had enough
of the parents
ramming him
into my brain
over the years
and she kissed you again
and you looked
into her dark eyes
where you thought
many a dream comes
and drowns
and dies.
poem by Terry Collett
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Julie and You in Trafalgar Square
Julie sat on one
of the fountain walls
in Trafalgar Square
and lit a cigarette
she looked about her
as if she were onto
something harder
as if she had some one
looking at her
from some secret place
you gazed at her
unused to seeing her
not in her hospital
dressing gown
and slippered feet
her hair had been brushed neat
and makeup applied
and she said
I was picked up here
some months back
by some guy
who wanted sex
he thought
I was a pro
and the things
he asked for
god that was the worse
and with that
she paused
and stared at the Square
at the people
and the pigeons
and she inhaled deep
and then exhaled
blowing the smoke
out of the corner
of her mouth
like you'd seen done
in the movies
what did you say
to the guy
who picked you up
and what did he want
you to do?
she looked at you
her eyes scanning
your features
and then leaning closer
she said
I told him I wasn't
a whore and to go off
some place else
you watched her fingers
holding the cigarette
the way she held it
between her fingers
as if it was some
precious item she'd found
what did he want you to do?
you asked
he wanted sex
in all my orifices
she whispered
before inhaling again
the cigarette was clamped
between her lips
and she rubbed
her fingers
on her jeans
she screwed up her eyes
against the smoke
my grandfather said
if it wasn't for whores
more women
would be raped
and attacked
you said
that guy was a creep
he smelt of strong aftershave
and body odour
she said
what a combination
you said
she stumped
the cigarette butt
onto the wall
and flicked it
across the Square
let's go and view the art
in the Gallery behind us
she said
and you followed her
to the Portrait Gallery
her buttocks swaying
like some ship at sea
the jeans tight
and clinging
and across the Square
church bells were pulled
and were ringing.
poem by Terry Collett
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Dubrovnik 1972.
Dubrovnik seemed
a second home,
and you, in a street
cafe, sat drinking coffee,
with that book on
Schopenhauer open
on the table, a cigarette
smoking in an ashtray
unattended, thinking
of the girl in the hotel
restaurant the night
before, the waitress
who smiled at you as
she served and went
by your table, and your
brother said, I don't
fancy yours much,
indicating with a nod
of head, another
waitress over by a
nearby table, plump
and spotted, wearing
a scowl instead of a
smile, and all the while,
he eyeing, as young
men do the beauty
that had caught your
eye going by, but all is
fair in love, so men
have said, so picking
up the book on
Schopenhauer, and
further reading,
holding the cigarette
between the fingers
of the hand not
turning pages, you
inhaled with deep
concentration the
smoke and words
spread across the
page, written by a
philosopher of a
foreign tongue
and different age.
poem by Terry Collett
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A Girl Like You
How did I get a girl like you?
A girl that's smart, pretty, and true.
A girl that I can hold tight.
A girl that is ''just right''.
A girl that can make my sun rise,
And my sun set.
A girl that is nice and wise.
A girl that I will never forget.
A girl that I can hold for hours.
A girl that I can love forever.
A girl that doesn't need any flowers.
A girl that is very smart and clever.
A girl that goes by the name 'insert'.
A girl that I love so much.
A girl that I will always keep in my soul.
A girl that can make my day with just a single touch.
poem by Claude Davis III
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On The Drag
Youre only happy when youre sad
Youre top fueled and youre bad
Parachute in your back pack and
Your knees under your chin
And your boyfriends getting mad
At all the time you waste
Trying to put your finger on it
The allure of st. marks place
On the drag, on the drag
Youre all waiting round for something
And its never coming back
On the drag, on the drag
Its a genuine disaster
And its come to make you king
On the drag
I wont die until Im dead,
Are the first words that he said
Dont try to interrupt him,
cause hes never gonna stop
And the time is standing still
With all this time to kill
And Im trying to walk away
From 1st avenue to a
On the drag, on the drag
Its a genuine disaster
And weve crowned him with his crown
On the drag, on the drag
Were all waiting round for something
And its never coming back
On the drag, on the drag
Were all waiting round for something
And its never coming back
On the drag, on the drag
Were all waiting for disaster
And we crowned him with his crown
On the drag
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Judy and You and Chagall
What did you think
of the Chagall postcard print
I bought you?
Judy asked as you both sat
outside the Fox Inn
I pinned it on my wall
you replied
and stared at it every time
I entered the room
thinking of you
she sipped her drink
her eyes searching you
her hair tied behind
in a ponytail
so I gathered
by your letters
she said
putting her glass
on the small wooden table
I missed you
you said
I went to London
while you were away
and saw you
in every girl I saw
even at the ballet
at the opera house
she looked at her glass
I was only away for a week
she said
it seemed a year
you said
you inhaled the cigarette
you were holding
taking in her hair
and eyes and how
her lips moved
as she spoke
Florence was fantastic
she said
I picked out
that Chagall print for you
in one of the art galleries
who did you go with?
you asked
friends
she replied
male or female?
both
she said
you inhaled the cigarette again
and thought of the first time
you kissed her
how the moonlight
shone on her face
as you moved her around
you mustn't be so jealous
she said
I have to see others
who was the guy?
Henrik
she said
you imagined her
and this Henrik
making out
in some Florence hotel
his hands touching her
I thought of you
every moment
you said
that's sad
she said
why?
you said
because no one
should think of another
that often
she sipped her drink
and looked around
at the evening sky
how was Florence?
beautiful
she said
like you
you said
I am like Shakespeare's' lily
she said
as it withers
she added
I see
you said
and you studied
her hands as they lifted
the glass to her lips
the fingers
the skin
the way they held
the glass
did you read my letters
when you got home?
you asked
yes
she said
every single one
my mother said
I must have besotted
some poor soul
and you thought
of the Chagall print
and how you had sniffed it
for traces of her scent
and remembered
your mother's words
nothing is given forever
things in this world
are only lent.
poem by Terry Collett
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Wish my pain was a cigarette
Wish my pain was a cigarette,
It would have been touch by you
Wish my pain was a cigarette,
It would have had the comfort of your hand
Wish my pain was a cigarette,
I would have been on your lips
Wish my pain was a cigarette,
It would have been consumed with time
Wish my pain was a cigarette,
It would have ended in an ashtray
Wish my pain was a cigarette,
It would have been thrown away
poem by Secret Shal
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Knew The Smoke (To Be A Prayer)
he said:
'i went four years
without a lover,
trying to do the right thing...
then one day i stood up,
packed my few belongings,
and walked off...
in search of...'
i watched him as he rolled
a cigarette, his gnarled hands
sure and steady...
stared at the light in his eyes,
and the doors...
only he knew what
was behind them.
bought him a cup of coffee,
and shook his hand,
no need for words...
wondered if i'd met Jesus,
or the devil,
or if i was looking
into a mirror!
each path, each call,
is different... each heart,
pretty much the same.
i watched him light his cigarette,
and knew the smoke
to be a prayer!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Friend In Need
O’Brien went to the same school
as you and used to thieve from
local shops and kid’s pockets and
bags and from the teacher’s desk
and probably from his mother and
father if he was at home asleep in
his chair and he used to take things
openly from the tuck shop without
paying and borrow things and not
give them back. O’Brien was your
best friend at school but never stole
from you for some reason anyhow.
You often wonder what happened
to him and what he’s doing now.
poem by Terry Collett
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Dead Kids In War
He just happened upon them
In a field lying there in the tall
Grass on their backs, seemingly
Sleeping, but dead; two children
Of Finnish origins, maybe, at least
By where they’re found and area
Of ground. She lay as if trying to
Catch the sun’s attention, with one
Hand by her side, the other resting
On her thigh. The boy lay a little
Way away small fists clenched tight
As if frozen by death in pose to fight.
The soldier walked slowly around
Them beneath the hot sun, wiped his
Brow, reached inside his pocket for
A cigarette, fumbled for a lighter,
Stood over the girl six or seven,
She oblivious of her state of dress
Or how she lay. The soldier inhaled
Deep, the hot smoke hit his throat
Made him choke. Kids killed in cold
Blood in war; no joke. It was 1942
He remembers now, taking up the
Photograph of white and black,
Taken in midst of war and battle
Scarred and brain in fog, wearied
By march and sight and smell of death.
Whose kids they were he never knew,
Sleeping in death’s claim; two kids,
In a field without memory, without name.
poem by Terry Collett
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Cigarette Girl
“Cigarettes, cigarillo, cigars, ” I did say,
as cigarette smoke came my way,
Choking on the smoke from it’s tar,
I only liked the smell of the cigar.
I was a cigarette girl in the casino Mystic Lake,
I got a big tip in high stakes.
It was a $20.00 coin of red,
I had to cash it in before I left.
One day I met the piano man,
He introduced me to Chucky
a generous soul with a helping hand.
Chucky painted my props for my show,
He painted World War II planes a long time ago.
We gambled at this casino all summer long,
I would ride in his car listening to Frankie’s songs.
Cigarette girl job had to end,
I will always remember Chucky my dear old friend.
Written by Suzae Chevalier on September 22,2011
www.suzaechevalier.com www.puppetpoems.com
poem by Christina Sunrise
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Be True To Your School
When some loud braggart tries to put me down
And says his school is great
I tell him right away
Now whats the matter buddy
Aint you heard of my school
Its number one in the state
So be true to your school now
Just like you would to your girl or guy
Be true to your school now
And let your colors fly
Be true to your school
I got a lettermans sweater
With a letter in front
I got for footbal and track
Im proud to where it now
When I cruise around
The other parts of the town
I got a decal in back
So be true to your school now
Just like you would to your girl or guy
Be true to your school now
And let your colors fly
Be true to your school
On friday well be jacked up on the football game
And Ill be ready to fight
Were gonna smash em now
My girl will be working on her pom-poms now
And shell be yelling tonight
So be true to your school now
Just like you would to your girl or guy
Be true to your school now
And let your colors fly
Be true to your school
Rah rah rah be true to your school
Rah rah rah be true to your school
Rah rah rah be true to your school
Rah rah rah be true to your school
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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But Eddie does not make all the decisions. Eddie can listen to reason; Eddie can be swayed or talked in or out of certain things. Eddie allows other people to lead in this band and to have certain roles that are very fundamental to the decision-making process.
quote by Stone Gossard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One Cigarette
No smoke without you, my fire.
After you left,
your cigarette glowed on in my ashtray
and sent up a long thread of such quiet grey
I smiled to wonder who would believe its signal
of so much love. One cigarette
in the non-smoker's tray.
As the last spire
trembles up, a sudden draught
blows it winding into my face.
Is it smell, is it taste?
You are here again, and I am drunk on your tobacco lips.
Out with the light.
Let the smoke lie back in the dark.
Till I hear the very ash
sigh down among the flowers of brass
I'll breathe, and long past midnight, your last kiss.
poem by Edwin Morgan
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Cigarette Girl
"Cigarettes, cigarillo, cigars, " I did say,
as cigarette smoke came my way,
Choking on the smoke from it's tar,
I only liked the smell of the cigar.
I was a cigarette girl in the casino Mystic Lake,
I got a big tip in high stakes.
It was a $20.00 coin of red,
I had to cash it in before I left.
One day I met the piano man,
He introduced me to Chucky
a generous soul with a helping hand.
Chucky painted my props for my show,
He painted World War II planes a long time ago.
We gambled at this casino all summer long,
I would ride in his car listening to Frankie's songs.
Cigarette girl job had to end,
I will always remember Chucky my dear old friend.
Written by Suzae Chevalier on September 22,2011
www.suzae.com www.puppetpoems.com
poem by Suzae Chevalier
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Judith and You and A Morning Mist
The morning mist
that hung over
the pond (or your lake
as Judith called it)
had moved away
by the time she came
and stood next to you
wrapped up in her
Sunday best
waiting until the time
for the bus to take
you both to sing
in the church
her breath flowing out
on the air
like cigarette smoke
her eyes focused
on the skin
of the still water
I dreamt of you
last night
she said
you and I
were snuggled
together in my bed
having made love
you watched
a magpie take flight
over the water
nice
wish I could
have been there
in person
you said
more breath
left her lips
and rose upwards
maybe next time
you can
she said
turning her head
spreading her lips
into a smile
just be my luck
your mother
will invade the dream
and catch us
you said
yes
Judith said
that would
spoil the dream
some what
there was a mist
over the pond earlier
you said
it looked beautiful
she turned
and stared
over the water
I missed that
as you missed
making love to me
in my dream
she whispered
drawing closer
her hands
taking hold
of yours
what did you
dream about?
she asked
an empty bed
and cold sheets
and a space
where you should
have been
you said
she smiled
and said
I couldn't be
in both beds
at once could I?
once more
there was the rising
of her breath
you couldn't tell her
you'd seen
an image
of her death.
poem by Terry Collett
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Little Girl
Little girl, little girl, little girl
You were on your way to school
Little girl, when you were on your way to school
You went and broke
You went and broke your teacher's rule
I passed by your classroom, just had to take a look
And i watched, looked, what you had written in your handbook
'cause i love ya
And i don't care, what they say
I don't care what, what they say
I saw you from a window
Standing at the, the big oak tree
Stood and thought and wondered
How it used to be
Just-a you and me
In the golden sand
A-walkin', talkin', hand in hand
And i got you
I got you in my soul
In my
In my
In my
In my soul
In my soul
I got ya
An i don't care what they say
I got you in my soul
14 years old
14 years
Oh baby
I got you
In my
In my
Ah in my soul, yeah
In my
In my soul
Yeah, hey hey
Oh, all right
I love you
Need you
All right
All right
Oh
Oh, oh
Yeah
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Again and Again
again
ı inhaled
from my cigarette
deeply
again
a night
without you
has worn out
from my life
again and again
you fell into
my dreams
your voice
is still
is jingling
in my ears
again ı feel
your warmth
of your lıps
as though
you are
kissing me
from my lips
again
like a wild wind
your love
is
blowing
on my head
turninmg and turnıng
if you only
you came again
and
slept
in my arms
ı missed you
and
your voice
poem by Metin Sahin
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