I was looking through some old computer files today, and found a poem I wrote in my senior year of high school -- when I first started smoking a pipe. I don't quite remember what the prompt was, but I thought you guys might enjoy this! ::
“Pipe”
A pipe
The philosopher’s tool
Expelling silky threads
Of smoke,
Reconstructed into thoughts
The man lost in the smoke
Composed of his thoughts
Stress lifting off his shoulders
Joining the foggy air.
In the shape of an O
His lips pursing
As rings of vapor rise
Up, up to the ceiling of his library
Pointing down at the man
Lost in thought
Holding a pipe.
“Pipe”
A pipe
The philosopher’s tool
Expelling silky threads
Of smoke,
Reconstructed into thoughts
The man lost in the smoke
Composed of his thoughts
Stress lifting off his shoulders
Joining the foggy air.
In the shape of an O
His lips pursing
As rings of vapor rise
Up, up to the ceiling of his library
Pointing down at the man
Lost in thought
Holding a pipe.