A brief encounter [with a jelly]
It was a wibbly wobbly 'affair'
Where dibbly dobbly was nibbling
Wibbly wobbled her way
She moggled his muggle
Then turned away
He was smitten smocked dead
By this little twiddle kitten
But in the hot clime of a humid day
his wibble sighed and flobbed away
She moggled his muggle one last time
As he slid and was slewn into slime
She sigh eyes wept still
She sunk skid into a small pool
By the window sill
Slod into one slum
At last they made molten...in thawing
Became one!
yvette m smith sept 08
poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A handful of sorrow
A handful of sorrow
called grief
In an hourglass
The sand slid through time slowly
They held onto their self help books
Like walking sticks
Refusing to grow old
Yet clutching at the grey day
Like a constant mourner
Working out a diary
The darkest sonnet
Looks framed
Eyes distracted from the road
Driving dangerously
Oblivious to the passengers
They took down slowly
To their death
Storms breaking even the oldest trees
Falling in time
yvette smith sept 08
poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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nonsense is an 'Art
The 'Art' of the 'ridiculous' is to be somewhat meticulous
In chosing, 'certain words'
To capture the Absurd'
The artus riducularus
Is to find something hilarious,
Perhaps in a scattering on silly names
A certain gait a wibbly stutter
The art of the ridiculous
Lyes in being quite meticulous
In making nonsense ryhme
And every dirty star can shine
Though fallen from it's holy shrine
Still glimmers in the gutter
poem by Yvette Smith
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Submission
I submit myself to these things
The 'small talk' on the sidewalk
The eyes that survey a thousand faces
Without question
The measure of my self and men
The day hangs impatiently outside
Unchanged
I cannot rearrange the sky
Or measure a world in an hourglass
Yet something must give
In all these acts of living
Is this it?
Letting the mask slip
As the light falls to the window
Uncurl words
Unpaint the feelings
Is it possible just to live
Let life in, under the so many illusions made?
Submit to these other things?
That do not ask anything of us
But just let the day in
The world unfold beneath our feet
Shall we begin
Again?
yvette smith sept 08
poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Virus
A world rocked
Shaken
Broken
Dissoloution of words
Who washed them all away?
Today I awoke to find
A 'virus in my hardrive'
Is that a metaphor for greed?
That rots the healthy guts
Of every leviathan that sunk its teeth to deep,
Leaving so many poor Jonahs
Outside 'the belly of the whale'? ?
Now hollow
Spitting out a 'last dime'
For the homeless!
yvette m smith sept 08
poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Imagine
Imagine I am mourning
And all day
Wear the day like darkness
Returning to the map
The insidious streets
A body full of tears
Vibrant
And bright as a jewel
Such things shine
Always after rain
Imagine I was mourning
and the day was a white gown
And each sigh
Winging towards
Heaven
yvette m smith sept 08
poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Radio Girl
Every morning she hung her sad same song
On the hum of the radio words
Mimicking
Her coffee mug
microphone under her chin, lip synch
Always late for work
Humming the same sad song
On the bus
Always arriving
As if she were somewhere else
[Visiting another life]
yvette m smith sept 08
poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hardrive
Its a 'hardrive to success and to 'happiness'
A fingertip in space
Tapping at a 'human face'
Perfect
In digital harmony
Colour tone
And paste
Each pixel an atom
Finding its completion
Locked in space
yvette m smith sept 08
poem by Yvette Smith
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Misreading 'misnomer
I mistook blue for sorrow
Misread the blue clouds in a grey day
Full of white unclaimed passages
I made long corridors,
My loneliness,
Old mansions
Mysterious wombs
Echoing history
I riddled the earth
With the decay
Of my 'misinterpretation'
Smelt the burnt out ends of smoky daze
In hidden alleyways
And time was just another number
To add to the endless lists
Missed
My misnomers
'Waiting silently to 'un name themselves! ]
'Under a deep blue velvet sky]
yvette smith sept 08
poem by Yvette Smith
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Coil
Turning tight
Twisting in
Tail taut
Unflinchng skin
A cigarette burning
Unseen
But for the smoke!
So much unholy rage
Burning.....
Why?
?
The tail turns in..
yvette m smith sept 08
poem by Yvette Smith
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X
She remembers sounds cracked from words shells
Echoes across abandoned parks
Seashores
Somehow frozen in time
She talks out of tempo
A Stuttering shuffling game
But she is not playing
She watches
stopped still
Outside the life
That keeps turning
She remembers nothing
Not even her name.
X marks the spot
Later her bracelet is found in the mud
It carries her DNA
And the blood of a man she once loved
She will not return again
She remembers nothing
yvette m smith sept 08
poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The wizards represent all that the true "muggle" most fears: They are plainly outcasts and comfortable with being so. Nothing is more unnerving to the truly conventional than the unashamed misfit!
quote by J.K. Rowling
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The mute singer
She cut out her tongue
So she could sing
Those unheard songs
sung
She cut out her tongue
So silently
She could unspeak herself
Free, from prison words
She cut out her tongue
So that her soul could catch the light
And let it run
Through her body transparent
Prism shining out
She cut out her tongue
To free her self
From her self
Completion
Knitted under the skin of silence
Flying unseen
Into unexplored horizons
Without
Mother
Country
Point of
Trace
She cut out her tongue
To see the eyes
Behind the face
yvette m smith sept 08
poem by Yvette Smith
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Turning
I will not turn again
Turn again
Turn again
Turn again
To tell you that I love you
That time is gone.
And did I ever in that time
Know that love sublime,
Was always there
Hidden in a prayer?
Even after you were gone
I will not turn again
For even season has its time
And all that's ' seen'
Has left us blind
To turning
And to season
And to time
yvette m smith sept 08
poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Amen
They raised the oak
Then let it gently sink into the soft dark earth
Soon your roots would be rekindled
Some brought candles
Some burnt fires
But no one could interpret the silence
For a sign
Poets sat in bars
At the same chair
Where they were always seated
Copywriting the space
Possessing a certain look
That wasn't theirs, yet...
The midwife nearly always arrived late
And birth was just a second from another death
The children stood laughing at the gate
yvette smith sept 08
poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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These are the things we cannot possess
These are the things
We cannot possess
The earth in all its 'holiness'
The earth in all its 'bloody defiance'
The earth in all its secret violence
The earth in everchanging times
We cannot possess the earth
Less time
Reckless
Unsolved
Unseen
We can only grieve
And love
And laugh
And live
Letting go of all we thought we had
But never did
Knowing we have felt these things
Beneath are skin
Like a kiss
In a shimmering stream of light
And like a wound
In darkest night
They will flow on and on
With or without us, yet,
We cannot forget them
yvette smith sept 2008
poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Gift
Love given
Ridden
Lived in
Loved in
Lost in
Love fallen
Broken
Stalling
Spoken
Woken in smoke filled rooms
Full of old whispers calling to
Love taken
Mistaken
Forsaken
Love wounded
Love preacher
Love teacher
Love prayer
Love giver
Lover taker
Love sinner
Love maker
Love over
Too soon
like a gift forgotten
Your face in the mirror
Much older
yvette m smith sept 09
poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When You Are Gone
When you are gone I will live on
I will live on
When you are gone
I will not mourn or forget
How love was born
Much stronger still
Though you are gone
You still live on
In birds in clouds
In simple flowers
In bones and flesh
That carry you
Each day, each hour
And this is your power
Though you are gone
Much stronger now
You still live on
In words that echo in the air
In scent of showers
Fallen leaves
In all of these
And feeling sense
You presence, felt in present tense
I will not mourn
Nor wil I grieve
For you live on
Inside of me
yvette m smith sept 08
poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Question
The question leaves a road turning
Trees full of green thoughts burning
Gold and brown
They fall in on themselves
At first they make a beautiful collage
A kaliedoscope
Tracings of colours
Leaving unfinished
The questions
Of life and love
And why
Do we?
who will we become/ in becoming?
wherefore from the root?
Seeded randomly?
When where?
Will we go?
do we die?
when we die?
what dreams?
what dreams?
He dreams in waking
wide eyes
spinning his own realities from within
Will the light burn out?
Or burn on?
And the music of the question
Goes on
Unfinished
Unanswered
Forever pursuing
Forever unpursued
In finito
NO ENDING
Yvette m smith sept 08
poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Perfect Lover
My perfect lover was sent to me
By way of a hypnotherapist
On a soft deep couch
It summoned itself
Through soft words
Spoken
Soporific
Like drunk angels
Whose wings too heavy to fly
Rested on the shutters of the eye
Losing track of time
Lost in the hush of a cloakroom
When all have gone home
But one coat remains
Waiting to hang a life on it
Waiting for a love to come
Even after the fifty soft minutes have past
And the light breaks the shade at last
What remains
One single coat
You reach into it and pay
With a fifty pound note
yvette smith sept 08
poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Penelope Pidgeon
Pidgeons were scavengers, hangers on
They scrapped and crapped
All over the square
They were worse than the Tourists
With the yanky doodle stare
Penelope got stuck
With Pidgeon
This was not her name...
But it stuck
Like mud to a shoe
And her feet were the giveaway 'clue'
Turned in as she walked
Grossly deformed
She was laughed at, at school
And hideously spurned
Devoid of affection
She had no recollection of love
Then one day in the park
She got a sign from'above'
At first sight she saw the wings of a dove
Descending slowly they turned to brownish grey
She felt a splat on her shoulder
It wasn't her day!
A pidgeon landed beside her on the street
Its toes were similar to hers
Curled up with one missing toe
It's feathers were mankey
It limped with nowhere to go
Feeling a 'flash of passion'
For the very first time
Penelope took it home
In a box
For weeks she kept it warm and fed
Some days it rested on her pillow in her bed
But she knew a day would come
When plump and fit it would be gone
Alas that day had come
She felt a pang a silent cry
But just before she let it fly
She clamped a ring around its feet
And to make the journey complete
She place a ring around her own
Hoping one day, it would fly back home
For Penelope could not forget
That fated day when they first met
Yvette smith sept 08
poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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