"Smoke Rings From My Pipe" by Malcolm Guite
Hi! It's been a while since my last post here1, and longer still since the last time I shared a poem.
YouTube recently suggested me a video2 out of nowhere, and having some time on my hands I quickly found myself immersed in the mystery that is Malcolm Guite.
On his site he has many poems, but I stumbled on this one that spoke especially to me. It's a poem about the hustle and bustle culture we live in, and how we often forget to take a break and practice the art of simply sitting still.
I myself own a set of pipes which I dearly enjoy smoking. I haven't done so in a long while though, always finding some excuse and telling myself I have no time.
(source)
All the long day’s weariness is done I’m free at last to do just as I will Take out my pipe, admire the setting sun Practice the art of simply sitting still Thank God I have this briar bowl to fill, I leave the world with all its hopeless hype, Its pressures, and its ever-ringing till, And let it go in smoke rings from my pipe The hustle and the bustle, these I shun The tasks that trouble and the cares that kill, The false idea that there’s a race to run, The pushing of that weary stone uphill, The wretched i-phone’s all-insistent trill, Whingers and whiners, each with their own gripe, I pack them in tobacco leaves until They’re blown away in smoke rings from my pipe And then at last my real work is begun, My chance to chant, to exercise the skill Of summoning the muses, one by one, To meet me in their temple, touch my quill (I have a pen but quills are better still) And when the soul is full, the time is ripe Kindle the fire of poetry that will Breathe and expand like smoke-rings from my pipe Prince I have done with grinding at the mill, These petty-pelting tyrants aren’t my type, So lift me up and set me on a hill, A free man blowing smoke rings from his pipe.
☮️