Here is a Billy collins classic, which as a smoker i think kinda apt given the rulers demands on us the dieing breed, any thoughts on this poem?


The Best Cigarette

There are many that I miss
having sent my last one out a car window
sparking along the road one night, years ago.

The heralded one, of course:
after sex, the two glowing tips
now the lights of a single ship;
at the end of a long dinner
with more wine to come
and a smoke ring coasting into the chandelier;
or on a white beach,
holding one with fingers still wet from a swim.

How bittersweet these punctuations
of flame and gesture;
but the best were on those mornings
when I would have a little something going
in the typewriter,
the sun bright in the windows,
maybe some Berlioz on in the background.
I would go into the kitchen for coffee
and on the way back to the page,
curled in its roller,
I would light one up and feel
its dry rush mix with the dark taste of coffee.

Then I would be my own locomotive,
trailing behind me as I returned to work
little puffs of smoke,
indicators of progress,
signs of industry and thought,
the signal that told the nineteenth century
it was moving forward.
That was the best cigarette,
when I would steam into the study
full of vaporous hope
and stand there,
the big headlamp of my face
pointed down at all the words in parallel lines.

Billy Collins

Well Billy, I think the word Dying is very poignant! I am a non smoker and I'm very happy that me and my children don't have to inhale toxic smoke any more, in saying that though I don't like the content I do like the poem.
Magi
xx

Billy Collins is a fantastic poet. For those that haven't already, read all his work if you get the chance. If you don't get chance. Make chance.

...in fact, I think I'll muster a Billy Collin's style poem between threads. How would Billy deal with, say, childbirth?

[OK, not quite Collins style, but I’ll post it, even though it only took me 20 minutes and I'll suffer the consequence]


Making love to my breath.

I never gave it a thought.
Those laboured thrusting insertions
played out in silhouettes that looked
ridiculous on the silver screen of a magnolia wall.

A romantic dinner that I felt
in a stomach, once filled with the excited butterflies of anxiety,
spreading its chicken wings and stirring my thoughts
about reality and past pre-maturity.
And its pupae comes to mind as I catch sight
of the evening’s drink and its manifestation, and satisfaction
has already ordered its taxi waiting downstairs with its coat.

In the warm nape of adulthood I kiss the scent of
a thousand Mother’s and stop momentarily
as the front door opens and out flees satisfaction .
Running down the long straight drive way
never once looking over its shoulder into an upstairs bedroom.
Where a sibling named gratification hides
in the air that we’ve yet to breathe.

You into silence and me into you.

Darren, firstly I must point out that I have a gorgeous dog called chance and it's scary how many times he seems to appear in your work!lol

As for this poem - I think it is wonderful I particularly adore the last line which is very beautiful and romantic and the very generous positive part of my personality is not trouble at all by the fact it took you only 20 mins to write such a clever and complex verse.
xxx

Hi Maggie! First of all, without wishing to launder all your personal affairs over a forum, I hope that your daughter's health is improving. Secondly, thanks for your comments about my ramblings. The downside to reflection or retrospect is that any anomoly contained within my collection of words is like an itch. Having scratched my way through what did take me twenty minutes to write, I'm not surprised. While I accept that SOME works from established poems took years both to write and then find their way into print this is because they were all 'reflected out'.
I have altered the whole theme of the poem by changing a few subtle words and phrases. It began, in the first instance, as a romantic poem but my immaturity spilled over my oven gloves and the poem is now actually about (I don't know if I should declare this?)... an inflatable doll!
Those bendy latex thingys that work out marginally cheaper than a bendy fleshy thingy. Oh, you know what I mean.
(It is not based on personal experience or any one that I know...although I did once wish for an insatiable girl).

Times up Darren. Get Off!!!

MAKING LOVE TO MY BREATH

I never gave it a thought.
Those laboured thrusting insertions
played out in silhouettes that looked
ridiculous on the silver screen of a magnolia wall.

A romantic dinner that I felt
in a stomach, once filled with the excited butterflies of anxiety,
spreading their chicken wings and stirring my thoughts
about reality and past prematurely.
And a pupae comes to mind as I catch sight
of the evening’s drink and its manifestation, and satisfaction
has already ordered its taxi waiting downstairs with its coat.

In the warm nape of adulthood I kiss the scent of
a thousand Mother’s and stop momentarily
as the front door opens and out flees satisfaction .
Running along the long straight drive way
never once looking over its shoulder into the upstairs bedroom.
Where a sibling named gratification hides
in the air that we’ve yet to breath.

You into my silence and my excitable breath into you.

Hi Darren,
My daughter Courtney,
is home now, she's satying with her dad for a few days as he lives in a flat and it's easier for her to get around, she has to have more surgey in a couple of months and it will be years before she is fully recovered - but she is making incredible progress and it's a miracle that she is still with us, so I'm thankful to all of you who prayed, and sent healing love and light to us, as I say she still has a massive hill to climb so I hope people will continue to send her loving ray of healing as it's obviously working!

As for the poem - oh how sad - that you changed the lovely original and had to kill the romance for me by telling me it was for a rubber doll - which now doesn't make sense? How can you concieve a child with a rubber doll?
The first last line was so much better hun, there was true beauty in the subtleness - - - please, please go back to the original last line at least?

thanks for your thoughts sweet.xxxx

Hi Maggie - sorry, but if you knew me you'd realise that the last version is more appropriate. Incidentally, the thread containing the word 'childbirth' could have misled you. It did me when i re-read it. It has nothing to do with the birth of a child. I was just thinking out loud, sorry. Insomnia gets you that way.


FOR SALE. One Inflatable Doll - offers.

I got confused by the sibling not yet conceived at the window that the child doesn't look back at especially because of the title.
hey ho still a good poem, you should bring the rubber lady to gigs - no doubt some one in our crew would find her fascinating.
xxx

Yeah, i tried to personify - satisfaction & gratification. Almost like non identical twins. It has potential i s'pose. It just shows you that 20 minutes is never enough time to spend on anything, especially poetry.

Hi Darren, you're right I don't know you, but I do like your writing and it shows that you are funny and clever and thoughtful and perhaps an inflatable dolly isn't the best company for you to have as she is not stroking your poetical ego!

Funny thing with writers and poets in particular it appears they either big themselves up far to much or put themselves down too much - I wonder if any of us are balanced.

Might not work for you as it did for me - but Barry White on low and a hot toddy before bed cured my insomnia.xxx