So. Gunn is not a romantic. In fact, he might be considered anti-romantic. I, however, an extremely romantic. Gunn likes tobacco poetry quite a lot. Thus this poem. I decided I ought to write a tobacco poem, in the romantic style.
Edit: As I clarified in the comments below, when I say romantic I don’t mean romantic love. I mean the romantic era of art. As in post-Renaissance. Wikipedia:
Romanticism (or the Romantic Era) was an artistic, literary and intellectual movement that originated in the second half of the 18th century in Europe, and gained strength in reaction to the Industrial Revolution.[1] In part, it was a revolt against aristocratic social and political norms of the Age of Enlightenment and a reaction against the scientific rationalization of nature.[2] It was embodied most strongly in the visual arts, music, and literature, but had a major impact on historiography,[3] education[4] and natural history.[5]
As I posted on Gunn’s facebook wall:
Romantic Tobacco Poetry. Oh yes. Tell me I’m not good.
Oh my lady nicotine
Will not thou e’er desist?
In vain try I to fight thy looks
And find I can’t resist.
Thy soft and sly embrace will slowly
Lull me into sleep,
But though I close my eyes to them
I know of your deceits.
They say that we will end in grief,
That I can’t see the light;
But I am captive of thy love
Despite my blinding sight!
I justify my death with fleeting
Moments in thy arms:
The very thing that draws me deeper
In thy deathly charms.
And so I’ll breathe you in and
Flaunt our love for all to see;
For in this moment I have you,
Though you the more have me.
{ 7 comments… read them below or add one }
For some reason… I very much dislike this.
I am going to be my disapproving self and say. bleh. for style, good, but for topic I disapprove.
One Lover Doubtfully Fit
The Indians grew for spiritual gain,
While Ralegh brought seen King James pain.
Then Kipling wrote for you and for Wife,
Before Winston’s coin in nation’s strife.
But you for me,
O, Tobakee;
You and I have little worth.
Tho’ you are my Queen
My Lady Nicoteen,
Our shared silence has joy and mirth.
Did My Father force our hands in marriage,
Or had I gotten to know you well?
Regarding my rank we did disparage,
As society minded our wedding bell.
We met at fourteen, arranged by sixteen,
Treating as though I deserved you.
I did intervene, and not always clean,
For my unlovable ways I hadn’t a clue.
But having grown older, while young in time,
I achieved no less than to prove you’re mine.
You lovely lass, that cannot submit,
It is I that choose when you be lit.
To you I plead,
And as my creed,
May we stand by awaiting death stroke.
For you there’s no heav’n;
By Me all I’ve giv’n
Your only virtue is that I smoke.
By Evan Gunn Wilson
You can’t really romanticize tobacco, Caleb. The topic is about an inane stimulant. Not a person that can love you back. That is where the romance is lost; the love is not mutual. It is as endearing as an eight year old boy saying, “I love ice cream.”
Good poem anyway, but not romantic. I tell you it is not romantic.
Whoa there Gunn… you’re not using the same definition of romantic that I am… I’m talking about the romantic era of art. Not romantic love. And even if I was, the poem doesn’t ever make tobacco to be loving back.
But is that not one of the tenants of the romantic era?
Something you should know Caleb, is the reason I started writing tobacco poetry was because of all the either bad or annoying tobacco poetry. It seems that all the tobacco poets do is say over and over again, “I SURE DO LIKE TOBACCO!” And so they went on to use words like “fragrant” which has the same value as the word “smelly”.
I would accept an Elizabethan tobacco poem, but romantic tobacco seems to me contradictory. Like writing a limerick about The Battle of Waterloo. Not to be taken seriously.
And who says tobacco can’t love you back?