House Of No Return
Tomorrow enter the house of no return
And you will find no memory of what has gone
The leaves blown in the gravel path
Where childish footprints played
The sun rolled out across the clouds
Into another day
Weeds grow now
Where once a soft emerald carpet flowed
And flowers crowned the air with scent
And fires burnt in Autumn evenings end
For what has gone
cannot return my friend
Except in ceasless rivers of eternity
I carry your heart in my mine
And once again you're here with me
yvette m smith nov 2008
poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
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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Return
If
memory escapes me
I have returned to you
A thousand times
In dreams dreaming
In streams glistening
In half light
You have become tiny stars
I return to you
In the unfolding hours
Of embracing
Woods warm scent
Autumns silent fall
These are the fragile footprints
That break the stance of trees
Whose branches bend and bow
And falll
And though I lie upon the soil
My face is the sky
My eyes a burning sun
I return to you on the wind
Lost
In the sorrow of the moon
Felt still
I am here
Cold as the night
Held in your warm breast
I burn still
In the fire of your heart
These ghosts
They melt and dance
Mourn and celebrate
The life
Beneath the skin of life
Forever I return
Forever in love
Finding my rest in you
Forever being born
poem by Yvette Smith
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To the Trees
Nothing can tell me that the Trees don't love
In the first light of Autumn
Under golden mist
Of sun kissed days
Those leaves that turn and crunch
So crisp
These frosted memories
That slowly thaws beneath your feet
In oracles of golden russet crowns
That weave their fingers into clouds
Leave traces of a green
That lace and bud the heart with song
Of summers gone
And loves flame burning brighter
In the candle of a year now gone
And burning fires
Frozen brooks
And smoky rings
Each breath as still
As time suspended
Into space
yvette m smith oct 08
poem by Yvette Smith
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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
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If
If I did not carry you to me
Gently
weaving my minds imagination upon you
Like a photograph
Or go to hold you in my arms
Or carry this water to the rivers edge
Where you lay
And have always been
If I did not call attention to these things
My sweet imaginings of
That rest upon you
In my gentle kindling
Of birds wings
Somehow nesting
Somewhere
Making calling
Home over rough terrain
This emptiness
Would in these shells made mine
Echo back
To me
The muse
Of my yearnings
Turning
The swiftness of one life
Upon the untouched air
Unreachable
I could not define
You
who have rested here before me
After my dreams
Running wildly away
yvette m smith may 2009
poem by Yvette Smith
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Landscape Of Secondary Things
The landscape of secondary things
Is the arrival that comes into place and placing
After the soft lull and the rush and the hum
The shapeless movement without words
Or point of turning
After all that is in primal feeling felt
We return and yet arrive at the landscape
Of secondary things
Some visions visitations in our dreams
yvette smith april 09
poem by Yvette Smith
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Anorak
Walking in my anorak down memory lane
I realised my toggles were driving me insane
So I bit them off
Walking hoodless in the dark foreboding rain
Anorak Anorak all alone
Run away
Run away and find your way home
Your heads in a map
Your eyes in the clouds
Your looking for planes for crying out loud!
Anorak anorak you look so sad
Your forty tomorrow, but still act like a lad
Your heart was broken at thirty eight
When your love was stranded at terminal four
For the love of a boeing that you'd spotted before
Anorak anorak run home from the rain
There's always tomorrow to go spot a train
Anorak anorak run home to your mum
Your forty tomorrow and still chewing gum
You still wear your superman night shirt to bed
Your a cry baby buntin tucked up in your bed
molly coddled and pampered when will it end?
Your a loner a loser without a friend
But your anorak keeps you wrapped up and warm
You've been wearing that coat since the day you were born
Why can't you burn, just give it up?
Your forty tomorrow but refuse to GROW UP!
poem by Yvette Smith
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Flowers Of Tomorrow
Forget unkind words and deeds
For life is a ground of weeds
Where you have to sow the seeds
Of happiness to get rid of weeds
With the weeds of pain and sorrow
And hope for the flowers for tomorrow
That will bloom evenin narrow
Path of joy to bring you tomorrow
A bright tomorrow where will shine
The sun of joy all for mine
That will spread the joy of wine
To bring joy to thee and mine.
Seema Chowdhury
poem by Seema Chowdhury
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Autumn elegy in summer
It really is a bummer to think of Autumn when still in summer
But it's a breeze
A little ditty devoid of melancholy or self pity
The autumn leaves are falling,
But I'm not feeling sad
I did that just a year ago
I am so very GLAD!
YM SMITH
poem by Yvette Smith
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Amber Glow
Amber Glow
Red and yellow painted leaves
hang idly within the trees
They break and sail along the breeze
As fires of Autumn's time
They dance and surf upon the ground
Overlap each other with ruffling sound
A setting I am glad I found
As fires of Autumn's time
Like fires of the Autumn season
they leap and dance without a reason
A factor of Autumns many seasons
As fires of Autumn's time'
The grey clouds break, the sun appears
The dancing leaves appear to sere
These flames its kept for many years
As fires of Autumn's time
poem by Wesley Mincin
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These words
These words will be gone tomorrow
They steal the numbers from the streets
Til every door looks the same
These words like candles will burn out
They steal the light from temporary souls
Soon, too soon
They will bury the love
Under the tongues of yesterdays softness
As if they never were, more
As if they hunger still
There is no promise
No everlasting
And every eternal door
Always looks the same
They look
Tomorrow we will walk away
As if, when these words were gone
We forget, yes we forget
Still, that they ever came
And yet, they carry on!
yvette m smith jan 09
poem by Yvette Smith
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I Grow Old
I grow old I should feel the cold
I grow old I should have grey hair
I grow old I should sit and stare
I grow old I should have false teeth
I grow old I should have poor sight
I grow old I should forget to write
I grow old I should have aches and pains
I grow old I should 'stroll down memory lane'
I grow old I should walk with a stick
But as I grow old I KICK ASS!
And that's about it!
poem by Yvette Smith
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Return
Now its years since your body went flat and even memories of that
are all think and dull, all gravel and glass. But who needs them
now -- displaced they're easily more safe --
the worst of it now: I can't remember your face.
Return.
For a while, with the vertigo cured, we were alive -- we were pure.
The void took the shape of all that you were, but years take their toll,
and things get bent into shape...
Antiseptic and tired, I can't remember your face.
Return.
You were supposed to grow old. Reckless, unfrightened, and old,
you were supposed to grow old.
Return. You were supposed to return.
song performed by by Ok Go
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Autumn Sunrise
Autumn Sunrise
By Lori Triggs
Copyrighted Nov.13,2008
Autumn is here, while the cold blankets the air,
the autumn leaves show their majestic yellows,
with oranges and outstanding browns.
They fall with mysteries of the weather changes,
while the wind becomes stronger,
The colors change on the plants
with flowers even trees blooms with color.
The autumn clouds roll in to blankets
in the skies with stillness and quiet,
the coolness in the mornings with the evenings
wants you to snuggle up in a warm blanket.
Autumn trees as colorful as you can see
that is blankets the land for its winter’s dream,
The animals lay asleep while the
butterflies and birds go south for the winter.
poem by Lori Triggs
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Grass
Part part plain on grass
One year one wither flourish
Prairie fire burn not destroy
Spring wind blow again life
Distant fragrance invade old path
Clear emerald meet ruined town
Again see off noble friend go
Crowded full parting feeling
The grass is spreading out across the plain,
Each year, it dies, then flourishes again.
It's burnt but not destroyed by prairie fires,
When spring winds blow they bring it back to life.
Afar, its scent invades the ancient road,
Its emerald green overruns the ruined town.
Again I see my noble friend depart,
I find I'm crowded full of parting's feelings.
You Return Again
you return again,
or maybe just the wind,
softly knocking on the door....
or maybe it's a train,
on some distant track,
hurtling somewhere with purpose....
or maybe just winter,
blowing hard against autumn,
wrapping all that has been life...
in the silence of the snow....
or maybe it's tomorrow,
returning today to yesterday....
this moment of living to memory.
or maybe it's just my heart,
calling out to my soul....
listening for an echo....
you return again,
or maybe it's just my tears,
or the coming of rain!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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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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If I told you
Telling grey clouds
Telling silent birds
Telling tall trees
These things
That have lain waste
This winter soil
That binds its roots around the dead
Telling all who will listen
Who will hear
That it loved once, lived here
Underneath the shape of things
Felt breathed love.
If I had told you
Only you,
Would you still be here?
Still, in love?
yvette m smith nov 2008
poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sunken Treasure
There's rows and rows of house, with windows painted blue.
With the light from the t.v. running parallel to you.
But there is no sunken treasure, rumored to be.
Wrapped inside my ribs in a sea black with ink.
I am so out of tune with you, I am so our of tune with you.
If I had a mountain, I'd try to fold it over.
If I had a boat (or bone), you know I'd probably roll over.
And I leave it on the shore, I'd leave it for somebody.
Surely there's somebody who needs it more than me.
I am so out of tune with you, I am so our of tune with you.
All the leaves will burn and autumn fires then return.
All the fires we burn, all will return.
Music is my savior, and I was maimed by rock and roll.
I was maimed by rock and roll.
I was tamed by rock and roll.
I got my name from rock and roll
song performed by by Wilco
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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At The Ambassadeurs
TO YVETTE GUILBERT
That was Yvette. The blithe Ambassadeurs
Glitters, this Sunday of the Fête des Fleurs;
Here are the flowers, too, living flowers that blow
A night or two before the odours go;
And all the flowers of all the city ways
Are laughing, with Yvette, this day of days.
Laugh, with Yvette? But I must first forget,
Before I laugh, that I have heard Yvette.
For the flowers fade before her: see, the light
Dies out of that poor cheek, and leaves it white;
And a chill shiver takes me as she sings
The pity of unpitied human things;
A woe beyond all weeping, tears that trace
The very wrinkles of the last grimace.
poem by Arthur Symons
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