I'm smoking a bowl of Bugler’s tobacco,
carcinogens and ash rising from a corncob
pipe—the cheapest way to go—as I sit
on my porch on a sofa in the sun, wind
squirreling the loose hairs from my side-
burns forward, tapping my cheeks, waiting
for the rain to fall. I think
about a black man who wished me Good Day
and Happy New-Year the third week of January.
His bronze voice pitched from his porch
where he lounged with his shirt off like an ebony
Buddha in a rocker, neck decked with a thin
gold chain hung over sweat-shined belly,
a tube trailing out his brass bell nostrils,
on the floorboards and through a white framed door
to an air tank in the shadows. We were walking
by on the sidewalk then-the girl of last weekend
and the five months prior-to a park down the street,
where we'd take our shoes off in the sand
by the swings, and kiss with our toes
buried and clenched beneath us. The rain hits
the pavement revving like a car engine across
the parking lot, rushing my porch at 35 mph.
But I’ve got time, as I puff and wonder
what black Buddha would tell me now and wonder
and if answers come slowly through the nicotine,
or smoke rising.
Comments
1 - 9 of 9
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I really enjoyed this poem. It had a good flow and powerful imagry.
Your words speak volumes. I look foward to reading more of your work, nicely done.
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i don't know what volumes i speak. but thanks.
-Pap
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nice imagery..
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Calm before the storm
A pleasant bit of meditation.
line 18, 'out', typo for our.
What would he have said to you?As someone surviving on oxygen,he'd say:
1. It isn't wise to smoke
2. That pleasant greetings and blessings aren't confined to a single date.
3. That even dying men can be cheerful, and enjoy white boys walkin' with their gals.
Where did this take place that you can lounge in the sun in February, Mobile?
language: 4, rhythm: 1, subject: 4, tone: 4, form: 1.
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goo'day, sir
Gagiikwe,
thanks for the bit of wisdom. one should not smoke, i suppose.
and thanks for the typo. i've been revising this one, but haven't had the time to revise it until tonight, along with some other minor revisions.
as for location, i am in Oklahoma. We've been having some warm days. i actually had my shoes off, which isn't unusual for me, though. as long as the sun is on me and the wind is low, i can be half-naked most of the time.
always,
Pap
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Effective Atmospheric!
Hi Pap! I enjoyed this one a lot. You draw the reader in as effortlessly as the whorls of corncob pipe smoke spiral into the air. The images come thick and fast but in a relaxed way (shoot me for wallowing in contradictions!).
The ebony Buddha was an excellent image as was the toe-kissing beneath the sand.
I didnt mind the inconclusive ending, Pap, it reads a bit like the first part of a novel - setting the scene and such.
Only thing: for rythm and sentence sounds sake I d alter the last words to "..or rising smoke".
Leaving us with final image of transient smoke (like memories of lost Summertimes) is better served with this slight adjustment I thought.
Good work!
Regards
gG
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Hey Pap,
This poem had a certain feel to it. It felt slow, hot summer slow when i read it. I suppose the smoke from the pipe set the tone. The description of the sage was vivid. Though the point being made is at a lost. The mention of the girl, followed by what the sage would say was sort of sudden. When i read the last line, i kept thinking "what do you expect him to say? on what matter do you need his opinion?" All in all, it is a good piece. I can imagine everything, even the rain felt familiar. I enjoyed this scenic and narrative poem.
-iphios -
wise, you are
Dave,
i think that what you got out of it is the gist of what i'm trying to say. the man never actually talked to me there at the end. it's all just assumption. "i wonder" what he would tell me if i asked him a question about life, probably regarding the break-up with the girl i mention (that part is vague, i know). being a sage, he would probably have some wisdom to bestow upon me, symbolized by the tobacco, which symbolizes meditation in the poem. or, he might have no consoling words to give me, like the smoke rising.
thank you for taking time to toss me a question. the poem is still new and needs revision where it is ambiguous.
always,
Pap
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hey pap
nice imagery and descrpition here but reading the end i don't know what you where going after, are you saying he could be saying profound or maybe it only sounds profound but has no substance?
dave
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