I'm a contributor on the cuban cigar forum and had posted the following poem that I wrote recently between cigars just to share with that group. Someone there suggested I post it on Cigar Talk as well so here it is.
Stogie Love
thick brown stick gives no hint of pleasures there more like freshly steaming pear from ol’ dog Nick than treasured gift or godly lift
oily skin that wetly rolls between the finger’s fleshy folds smoothly round and giving much exposed the foot that’s neatly cut virgin-like and soft to touch
when close to nose the stogie nears it’s hidden cuban grace appears rich threads of sweet tobacco smell warm the air, caress the hair then wake the brain what have we here! the eye its truth did not explain
lighting it there comes a glow as newborn flame completes its throw leaping red to touch the stick fast growing now to fiery brick
trailing puffy blue white smoke curling lazy spiraled rope fills the room in gauzy plumb rich perfume of nature’s bloom
mouth accepts the flavor’s bursts across the tongue their magic works in rapid fire dizzy mix coffee, toast and licorice sticks butterscotch and chocolate’s kiss with salt and sage and boggy mist
then demon takes his well-earned turn with purple haze and chili’s burn pumpkin seeds and pecan pie aged tequila, russian rye pixie dust and bit-o-honey crystaled ginger, cheeses runny malomars and Grand Marnier hints of hashish, Earl Grey
and yet so smooth, even chewy candy bar and carmel gooey toothy texture with every toke one can almost eat the smoke it begs to feed the soul inside and reach where deep fears twisted hide
soon the cares that seemed so near it blows them all to disappear as tumbling pell-mell down the track now swift the memories rush back of children’s rhymes and time to play of church bell chimes and sun filled days and happy times long gone away
then woes release their steely grip from heart and mind and kindly slip well past the edge of consciousness and wave goodbye as gratefully smoke sends them on their too brief trip
far wanders stogie’s servant then through field and glade and forest glen back over years to better times the wispy laddered smoke he climbs
soft still peace replaces din in his thoughts he finds a friend and wends his way past sad debris of failed ventures, stormy seas
but fast the time the stick it burns ashes fall, the hours turn til soon there is but stunted nub to sate the servant’s stogie love
that to now quick fades to grey the cutter, torch he’d put away the servant thinks to keep it lit but ember dies, don’t let it quit!
“too late, its gone” he cries aloud all scattered dust what once was proud the buzz is dead, the smoke all mixed with puny air, no one last trick
there is no comfort that will do the servant writhes, he’s in a stew but answer comes before he’s done he’ll simply light another one!
