The Cremater

[tomoffing]

Revision 3

I slip a paper from its trim packet.
Behind the nipped strands of nestled tobacco
I slide a cotton safety cylinder;
slim defence against the stiff pinch
of cured golden Virginia weed,
an unassuming purveyor of need.
Two, perhaps three rolls, quickly fold,
a swift flick and right to left lick
gums the seal on this deadly little jacket.

A scratched match flares, then smoulders.
Amber shadows dim and glow as I draw deeply.
Conjured ghostly tendrils entwine my mind.
Calmed, I succumb to the sinister delusion.
Vessels constrict, circulation slows,
numbness feathers into my toes.
Shrouded in an ashen wreath, a wretched reek
expelled through grey yellowing teeth
signals to all I'm getting older.

The stubbed butt writhes and hisses,
snuffed amidst the remains of fallen comrades.
They will have vengeance. I will gasp
in a fetid fog and curse
with a despairing final wheeze
this habit that began with such ease.
For splutters and chokes, heart attacks and strokes
are but torturous tools inflicted upon fools;
true death is delivered in a thousand kisses.

So I ask myself, "If that's what's to come,
where's the damn harm in just another one?".
That thought, right there,
that casual swear
is when they won,
and a scratched match flares.


Revision 2
The Cremator

I slip a paper from its trim packet,
and behind the nipped strands of nestled tobacco
I slide a small cotton safety cylinder.
Slim defence against the stiff pinch
of this cured golden Virginia weed,
an unassuming purveyor of need.
Two, perhaps three rolls, a quick fold,
a swift flick and a right to left lick
seals the gum on this deadly little jacket.

A scratched match flares, then smoulders.
Amber shadows glow and dim as I draw deeply.
Conjured ghostly tendrils entwine my mind.
Calmed, I succumb to the sinister delusion.
Blood vessels swell, circulation slows.
Numbness feathers into my toes.
Shrouded in an ashen wreath, whose wretched reek
Expelled through yellowing grey teeth
Signals to all I'm getting older.

The stubbed butt writhes, and hisses.
Snuffed amidst the remains of fallen comrades.
They will have vengeance. I will gasp
within a fetid fog, and curse
with a despairing final wheeze
a habit that began with such ease.
For gangrene, leukemia, stroke and emphysema
are but tools to torment we puffing fools.
True death is hidden in a thousand kisses.

Now I ask myself, "If that's what's to come,
what's the damn harm in just another one?".
And that thought, right there, that casual swear,

that's when they won.

_______________

[Polar Bear]

This really evoked a lot of emotion and imagery from me, but that's probably since I've started and stopped and started and stopped smoking so many times. I want a cigarette now.

A couple thoughts:

The Cremater

With a wisp I peel a paper from ever well prepared packet.
Slip the small cotton safety cylinder from its sleeve
and slide it, between forefinger and thumb,
Where already nestled is a stiff pinch of Sky Blue Drum.
Two, perhaps three rolls, a quick fold, a swift flick
and a right to left lick seals the gum on this deadly little jacket.

Ch-ch, ch-clip
goes my lighter, blue and amber igniter, cancer's inciter.
Slowly I inhale. Dry tobacco crackles in the heat,
And cackles at his relaxing deceit.
Ghostly tendrils swirl and entwine my mind with such calming confusion
That I notice not his deathly intrusions.
Blindly I suck another burning breath of bronchial bad luck. The 'bad luck' bit didn't feel in line with the rest of the tone - almost comical, but that might be what you're expressing.
Blood vessels swell. Circulation slows.
He feathers numbness into my toes and I blame the weather as they grow colder. This is an amazing description that can only come from a smoker. I've also noticed my numb little toes, and tried to blame the cold.
The wretched reek of his grey ashen wreath wrapped about my shoulders
Signals to all but I that I am getting older. Rapidly. I feel this 'rapidly' breaks the rhythm for me.

I've not yet stubbed by time he embeds the macabre dread;
That by his wicked wish I am already dead.
In the grasp of his fetid mist I will gasp
and suffocate beneath his weight,
And curse with a despairing final wheeze from decrepit lungs
The habit that began with such ease when I was so young.

So I ask myself,
"If that's what's to come,
What's the damn harm in having another one?"
And that thought, right there, that casual swear,

That's when he won.

_____

FYI,
The Sky Blue Drum referred to in line 4 is a brand of tobacco. I'm unsure if this is well known enough to work, or if the overall image is sufficient for the conclusion to be drawn?

Also very unsatisfied with the title.

Any suggestions/feedback much appreciated.

Thanks a lot,

I like this poem. I'm not knowledgeable enough to critique the form or meter but the sensory conjuration is pretty spot on for the drama of smoking. Thanks for sharing!

[justcloudy]

Hey t,

This is a very descriptive and interesting piece of work. It took me a few reads to really "get it" but at the same time it wasn't too heavy. At first I agreed the title needs to go, but I've warmed up to it. But careful, the spelling is "Cremator".

A few comments below:

The Cremater

With a wisp I peel a paper from ever well prepared packet. I don't like this as a first line. The "p"s aren't working for me and it's too wordy.
Slip the small cotton safety cylinder from its sleeve Hehe.
and slide it, between forefinger and thumb,
Where already nestled is a stiff pinch of Sky Blue Drum. Don't need a capital here. Sky Blue Drum makes me think of the American Southwest which is a nice scene setter, but you need to make it explicit that they're cigs otherwise the reader won't get it.
Two, perhaps three rolls, a quick fold, a swift flick
and a right to left lick seals the gum on this deadly little jacket. Great stuff.

Ch-ch, ch-clip I see what you're going for, but that's not the noise my lighters make... try again maybe?
goes my lighter, blue and amber igniter, cancer's inciter. This line feels cheap... =/
Slowly I inhale. Dry tobacco crackles in the heat, This is a bit obvious compared to the beginning.
And cackles at his relaxing deceit. No capital. Not digging the rhyme, again feels cheap.
Ghostly tendrils swirl and entwine my mind with such calming confusion
That I notice not his deathly intrusions. Rhymes still aren't working. Either pick a rhyme scheme and stick with it, or stay away.
Blindly I suck another burning breath of bronchial bad luck. I agree with Polar Bear, bad luck isn't the right idea here.
Blood vessels swell. Circulation slows. Maybe commas?
He feathers numbness into my toes and I blame the weather as they grow colder.
The wretched reek of his grey ashen wreath wrapped about my shoulders
Signals to all but I that I am getting older. Rapidly. No capital, and this is ok but again wordy. See how you can condense it a bit.

I've not yet stubbed by time he embeds the macabre dread; Meh.
That by his wicked wish I am already dead. Capital, rhyme.
In the grasp of his fetid mist I will gasp
and suffocate beneath his weight,
And curse with a despairing final wheeze from decrepit lungs Captial.
The habit that began with such ease when I was so young. Captial.

So I ask myself,
"If that's what's to come,
What's the damn harm in having another one?" This is the only rhyme that I think works, though the rhythm could be improved upon imo.
And that thought, right there, that casual swear,

That's when he won. Love the ending. But no capital.

_____

FYI,
The Sky Blue Drum referred to in line 4 is a brand of tobacco. I'm unsure if this is well known enough to work, or if the overall image is sufficient for the conclusion to be drawn?

Also very unsatisfied with the title.

Any suggestions/feedback much appreciated.

Thanks a lot,

Anyway lots of good stuff, so what isn't great sticks out. In your revision I'd suggest cutting down a bit. Trimming will help in this case. Good beginning!

-justcloudy

[hankabadpoet]

I really liked the work conceptually, the personification of the tobacco in the third stanza is nice. The last word of the second stanza is unnecessary for me ("Rapidly") it doesn't pack the punch that it feels like it needs to. Your rhyming is a problem for me in particular, it seems a bit inconsistent and "happened upon", like you wrote this in a stream of consciousness manner without regards for editing. The poem has a lightly comical, if not cynical, feeling to it and I would love for it to completely entrench itself in that mood, I think it would be more effective that way. Overall it is a really fantastic idea, and the imagery it conjures up is incredibly palpable, but it could just use a bit of reworking.
Hank.

[ChessPiece]

Great stuff! Paints an awful picture which is cool. Former smoker here, two years clean and I can identify with this poem. "Blindly I suck another burning breath of bronchial bad luck" This line I'm struggling with in terms of flow...I'm not convinced that the bad luck statement is wrong but it's too laborious a line and doesn't work well for me. Nice work tho!

[beaufort]

quote='tomoffing' pid='147505' dateline='1384738480']
Revision 2

Thanks a million for your feedback and input. I've reworked this fairly heavily in light of your suggestions.
I've pared back the word count, and tried to adapt to a more a set structure.

Thanks again,
t


The Cremator

I slip a paper from its trim packet,
and behind the nipped strands of nestled tobacco
I slide a small cotton safety cylinder. might leave out either "cotton" or "safety" here and use a comma rather than a period
Slim defence against the stiff pinch. no capitalization of "slim",
"defense" not "defense" (no period)
of this cured golden Virginia weed,
an unassuming purveyor of need.
Two, perhaps three rolls, a quick fold,
a swift flick and a right to left lick
seals the gum on this deadly little jacket.

A scratched match flares, then smoulders.
Amber shadows glow and dim as I draw deeply. might consider a semicolon here, wouldn't really dim when you are drawing deeply, but I get the idea of changing colors
Conjured ghostly tendrils entwine my mind.
Calmed, I succumb to the sinister delusion.
Blood vessels swell, circulation slows. not that it matters, but nicotine causes vasoconstriction, not vasodilation. I would put a comma here rather than a period
Numbness feathers into my toes.
Shrouded in an ashen wreath, whose wretched reek
Expelled through yellowing grey teeth
Signals to all I'm getting older.
no need to capitalize "expelled " or " signals"

The stubbed butt writhes, and hisses. no comma after " writhes, comma after " hisses"
Snuffed amidst the remains of fallen comrades. small "s"
They will have vengeance. I will gasp
within a fetid fog, and curse
with a despairing final wheeze
a habit that began with such ease.
For gangrene, leukemia, stroke and emphysema this line seems too busy to me
are but tools to torment we puffing fools.
True death is hidden in a thousand kisses.

Now I ask myself, "If that's what's to come,
what's the damn harm in just another one?".
And that thought, right there, that casual swear,

that's when they won. might add a bit here, "that's when they have won" or "is when I knew they'd won"

I've read this aloud several times, these suggestions sound better to my ear, hope they are useful. The content of this will be easily identified with by smokers and former smokers - thanks
_______________


The Cremater

With a wisp I peel a paper from ever well prepared packet.
Slip the small cotton safety cylinder from its sleeve
and slide it, between forefinger and thumb,
Where already nestled is a stiff pinch of Sky Blue Drum.
Two, perhaps three rolls, a quick fold, a swift flick
and a right to left lick seals the gum on this deadly little jacket.

Ch-ch, ch-clip
goes my lighter, blue and amber igniter, cancer's inciter.
Slowly I inhale. Dry tobacco crackles in the heat,
And cackles at his relaxing deceit.
Ghostly tendrils swirl and entwine my mind with such calming confusion
That I notice not his deathly intrusions.
Blindly I suck another burning breath of bronchial bad luck.
Blood vessels swell. Circulation slows.
He feathers numbness into my toes and I blame the weather as they grow colder.
The wretched reek of his grey ashen wreath wrapped about my shoulders
Signals to all but I that I am getting older. Rapidly.

I've not yet stubbed by time he embeds the macabre dread;
That by his wicked wish I am already dead.
In the grasp of his fetid mist I will gasp
and suffocate beneath his weight,
And curse with a despairing final wheeze from decrepit lungs
The habit that began with such ease when I was so young.

So I ask myself,
"If that's what's to come,
What's the damn harm in having another one?"
And that thought, right there, that casual swear,

That's when he won.

_____

FYI,
The Sky Blue Drum referred to in line 4 is a brand of tobacco. I'm unsure if this is well known enough to work, or if the overall image is sufficient for the conclusion to be drawn?

Also very unsatisfied with the title.

Any suggestions/feedback much appreciated.

Thanks a lot,
[/quote]

[tomoffing]

Thanks for another round of input all.
I've been away for a bit but will scratch through this again and see what I can come up with.

[Dinosta]

It's easy to infer that Sky Blue drum is a brand of tobacco, so no worries there.

You need to work on your use of rhyme. Its hard to explain what separates a good rhyme from a bad one, but you are looking for something that isn't too forced or obvious. "cancer's inciter" is an example of one that seems too forced.

The Cremater

With a wisp I peel a paper from ever well prepared packet. you can replace "ever" with "the" or "a". It isn't really serving a purpose and replacing it will help the flow.
Slip the small cotton safety cylinder from its sleeve I agree with Beauford about eliminating either "cotton" or "safety". Eliminating "small" is another option.
and slide it, between forefinger and thumb,
Where already nestled is a stiff pinch of Sky Blue Drum.
Two, perhaps three rolls, a quick fold, a swift flick
and a right to left lick seals the gum on this deadly little jacket.

Ch-ch, ch-clip
goes my lighter, blue and amber igniter, cancer's inciter.
Slowly I inhale. Dry tobacco crackles in the heat,
And cackles at his relaxing deceit.
Ghostly tendrils swirl and entwine my mind with such calming confusion
That I notice not his deathly intrusions.
Blindly I suck another burning breath of bronchial bad luck. maybe "bad bronchial luck" instead? Also, consider eliminating "Blindly" or maybe change it to "Blind, ". Right now it's a bit awkward rhythmically.
Blood vessels swell. Circulation slows.
He feathers numbness into my toes and I blame the weather as they grow colder.
The wretched reek of his grey ashen wreath wrapped about my shoulders
Signals to all but I that I am getting older. Rapidly.

I've not yet stubbed by time he embeds the macabre dread;
That by his wicked wish I am already dead.
In the grasp of his fetid mist I will gasp
and suffocate beneath his weight,
And curse with a despairing final wheeze from decrepit lungs
The habit that began with such ease when I was so young.

So I ask myself,
"If that's what's to come,
What's the damn harm in having another one?"
And that thought, right there, that casual swear,

That's when he won.

[Veil of Trash]

Like this.
Favourite: "...scratched match flares..."
Wondering where it got picked up cause didn't seem to be in the older version or discussed in revision. Will be watching... maybe; Apologies for the semi-useless intrusion.

[tomoffing]

Like this.
Favourite: "...scratched match flares..."
Wondering where it got picked up cause didn't seem to be in the older version or discussed in revision. Will be watching... maybe; Apologies for the semi-useless intrusion.

Thanks Veil,
my cr@ppy "lighter, igniter, inciter" line was trashed (and rightly so!)
I had to find something else that caught the sound and light together

I'm working on another revision but it's a stubborn one...

[Htownbaseballer]

Really enjoyed this, thanks for pointing out the tobacco line.

[Sequel]

I liked the second one MUCH better. Great job actually applying everyone's critique! The content was enriched by your use of verbs and adjectives.
"I slide a small cotton safety cylinder." vs "Slip the small cotton safety cylinder from its sleeve and slide it, between forefinger and thumb"? Great improvement.
The ending of the second one also feels more solid to me. I can't point out why but it just does lol.

And why don't you like the title? I'd rather it be vague like it is know so that the reader can apply their own meaning to it. Making it too literal may close the scope of interpretation.

[tomoffing]

Revision 3 posted above all,

Thanks again for your critique, there's a little of everyone in this now I think.

I'll leave think I'll leave this alone now. Smoking far too many cigarettes during the revision process!!

[LickinLyrics]

I WANT TO SMOKE RIGHT NOW. That poem brought up a need to smoke. Not gunna lie. The imagery was so vivid. I saw myself smoking as I read this. Now I want a cigarette. Damn it and I'm trying to quit!