Holy Smoke!

He laid no claim to a perfect life,

Nor looked to a higher power,

‘He lived his life,’ said his seventh wife

‘At a hundred miles an hour.’

And those he bruised as he hurtled by

Were the first in defending him,

‘He didn’t live by our man-made rules

But those he defined within.’

 

There were some that said he was selfish,

And some that said he was cruel,

Those with the backward collar he

Devoured, and used as fuel.

He couldn’t stomach the hypocrite,

The ones that would have you pray,

‘If there is a god, I’ll give you the nod,

You wouldn’t be here today.’

 

There wasn’t a woman could tame him down

Not a concubine, nor a wife,

He wore out many an eiderdown

In living a lustful life.

He lived as the rest of us should live

In a type of joyful surge,

And carried us all along with him

With our inhibitions purged.

 

He set a pace that would burn him out

As his strength and youth declined,

But railed and ranted against the force

That made him a prey to time.

‘I’ll not give in, it would be a sin

To deny in my final breath,

A life that’s sailed too close to the rail,

That’s an ignominious death.’

 

He swore that he’d find a way to show

That death only set you free,

As he laid his head on that final bed,

Here’s what he said to me:

‘Just watch that picture over the hearth

Of me, when the world was young,

I’ll make it fall from the chimney wall

If the sting of my death’s undone.’

 

And so he died in his earthly pride

Then went to his funeral pyre,

I told my wife, ‘there’s another life

Devoured in the flames and fire.’

I didn’t believe that he could survive

On the strength of his will alone,

But went away to the wake that day

They held in his childhood home.

 

His friends were milling about the house

And drinking his cellar dry,

While I stood pensive before the hearth

And asking the question, why?

When a sudden crash on the cobbled hearth

Saw his picture fall from the wall,

The shattered glass from his grinning face

Went showering over all.

 

It must have been a coincidence

I said, and the wife agreed,

‘We’ll have to go to the cemetery

To prove that he’s there, indeed.’

We waited just on a week to go,

It rained, and the grave was soaked,

But pouring out from his headstone there

Was a plume of Holy Smoke!

 

David Lewis Paget

Reviews

[Barbz]

Wow, your character certainly lived loose as a goose, or should I say Duck, you know like the eiderdown quilts he wore out in the lustful life he lived, with, I assume, more than just his seven wives! The fast life got the best of him, and he considered his failing health a disgrace and vowed he'd find a way to keep that fire burning!! DLP, your subtleties are so powerful. Thank you for another mind teaser.....Barbz

[A Soap Mess Stories]

Holy Smokes! What a read!

[Valentine]

Seven wives and still able to blow any kind of smoke is a wonder. This one was really craftily written, I liked it beginning to end, Valentine

[Sindu]

That definetely tickles my mind. He got out? Or was he smoked to somewhere else?
It's infectious how he lead his life despite the part of seven wife trying to tame him. Good or bad, he ruled the time. Interesting read again, David.

[R Smith]

guess he found a way back David, that plume of smoke pouring from the headstone makes it sound like he's as fast as ever, great job :)

[andrew mitchell]

A good poem not one of my favs of yours but good all the same and very well written

[Einstein Noodle]

big smiling chuckle here!! Holy Smoke indeed .. what grit and fire the man had ... some might say he had it all and wish that they were him ..others that he missed the point living in all that sin ;) your cadence and rhyme has effected me sir! :) thoroughly enjoyed the read ... makes me think of some i have known
E.

[Roxie M]

I see death as the great equalizer for mankind. I like this for its rhythm and humorous ex-parte, although, I do not believe in an eternal burning hell (just permanent results). Now, I am being serious, but a God of love would surely not burn anyone forever...He may have like the old boy's energy, but saddened when he hurt others. A plume of Holy Smoke, hmmm...are your poems intended to cause one to think this much? That smoke was more likely done by one of his seven wives. LOL!

[Beautiful Christmas Tre..]

i love it. great piece of writing. awesome

[Marie]

A proof of some kind of life afte death, though the plume of smoke pouring out from his headstone seems ominous. was it Holy Smoke indeed? Or smoke from a place less than holy...?