The bitter taste of tobacco burns my tongue, not the taste of factories but a spiritual herb, nature sprung
Smoke in blue circles wafts about my head, I speak with spirits of the earth, planted now raised from the dead
Leaves pulled, cured and twisted into tarry ropes, chipped by knife into specks, for which a stained hand gropes
Rolled in dried corn husk, or smoked in briar pipe, separating out the hard stems and center stipe
Chard smell of visions, the smokey tongue of a muse, spews whisps of enlightenment, new views
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Author:
sorenbarrett (
Online) - Published: October 1st, 2026 03:15
- Comment from author about the poem: Not cannabis but regular tobacco no additives not pressed, steamed or fermented.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 3
Online)
Comments1
As a smoker myself I love this description my friend
Thanks Norman I debated about putting this one on but it is one of my muses and since we live in a society that has to adulterate everything natural and then condem it I thought I would take a chance, it having received so much bad press in latter years. I find natural tobacco much stronger.
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