Love In A Time Of Rain
Returning to rush hour again
To the crowd of anonymous faces
To speechless carriages and rustling papers
To time suspended between stops and faltering steps
Returning home under a sky bled dry
To work worn to fading
grey tenements and grand illusions
Dreams watered down
To hello
To goodbye
To love, in a time of rain
by yvette m smith
poem by Yvette Smith
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What We See
I saw him from a distant
Walking through the streets
His eyes sparkled with a kind of absence
Only seen in dreams
As though I was watching
Those phantoms seen only in dreams
Yet in the daylight he was walking
His bright ebony skin gleaming
Under the weight of a large white cross
Suddenly so unremarkably strange
Yet he was as real as the day
Unfolding before me
Returning back onto the streets
In repitition
A ritual
A journey
Some have only dreamt this
Strange pilgrimage
To the heart of an urban mecca
Returning
MANTRAS
Walking between two worlds
Without waking
And what we see in the silence
yvette smith april 09
poem by Yvette Smith
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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
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Winter
In these last days
In which winter has sealed all life in rest
And in these last mad hours blowing through the trees
In which warm lovers have sewn their final ties of happiness
When words iced cold
Break down
Returning to a familiar yearning
In frozen parks
Where empty seats
Mark the turning of a year
We wait in winter
Some cross by the frozen lakes
Where brittle arms of trees are waving
We wait in winter
Growing older
Certain of ourselves in sleep
For this is a time of birth
In learning kindness
In the absence of the flower
In every naked seed
We find our power
In the absence, our completion
In the ending, our returning
Back to the root
That's buried deep within the soil
yvette m smith dec 08
poem by Yvette Smith
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People Are Lonely Like You!
People are lonely
So how do they look, the lonely?
Where do they go?
What do they do?
So many too many lonely people
Our they the 'face in the crowd? '
Or are they the crowd of faces
Looking out
Sheep in a pen
Walking the streets and back again
People are lonely
Do they sit 'alone in a bar'
Or linger under trees with their dreams
And flask of tea for one
Is lonely being lonely, not much fun?
Or do the lonely hide under smiles in the throng
Laughing the loudest trying to fit to belong
To a band of misfits on the run
From their own loneliness
Is 'being lonely' a cry of distress?
Or the only true road that leads to happiness?
I don't know about you, who may or may not be lonely,
But I hate crowds, all those annoying lonely faces pushing in,
Can't you hear the din of their thoughts out loud?
So many masks too much fakery
Too much nervous eating of cakes 'hot from the bakery'
Rather spend time alone than hang out with a 'phone'
Who is lonelier than me?
Give me a room with a view, the fresh air and the sea
And I savour the bliss of being set free from the madness if crowds
This 'fake harmony'
by eva tidwells anthology 'A hysterectomy of delerium on the underground at rush hour'
poem by Yvette Smith
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An apology
If I have grieved you, I am sorry
I didn't see you there
I watched instead
The rubbed out face of a picture
Dissapearing into rain
On the side of the road
A man kneeling
Bent with a broken crayon..as if in prayer
If I didn't see you
I am sorry
I have known the shifting clouds
The moving on
The change of postal code address
The uncertainty of where to belong
I have lost these things,
The fixtures and the 'fittings'
But never the name
If I did not see you
I was lost
In the undone faces
nameless
Certain that I have never known you
I have one question to ask
'do you know me?
Would you take the time?
Named/ nameless
Outside, in
Looking
Unseen
There is a thin fence between us
Only dreams
In the same space
And the same time
On either side
where something is missing
yvette m smith july 09
poem by Yvette Smith
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Love is it?
Love what is love?
Is it a handbag, or glove?
Is it that certain look you wear?
At that certain time?
Is it the turn in the year?
Is it a sign?
And can we buy it?
And will we leave it all behind?
In the things shed
The skin surface of things
As they appear?
Will they dissapear?
Into the turn in the year
The being alone too much?
and the crowd who will see them
So many loves?
Do we even count them, know them?
Next year we will have forgotten
The first line of the song
That showered them in rain
And yet that first smile
Of your first love
Is still here
Standing in the shadows
Shedding light
And how much did it cost?
This love without money?
And was it worth the fall, into love?
yvette m smith july 09
poem by Yvette Smith
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Love Did Not Come
love did not come to me
though I have seen it standing cold and frozen in the rain
love did not come to me
though I have called out loud and long
It did not hear it's name
Nor did it turn to see my shadow fading, gone
Or catch the waves that swept a bleak and barren shore
Or see the ruins of a heart, that looked on love no more
Then finding it was strong with love, in absence gone,
Rose up and carried on, and looked for love no more!
by yvette marie smith
poem by Yvette Smith
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The Web of Time
In the rustling of the leaves,
Someone, called my name.
The voice was so familiar,
Same old haunting refrain.
Hearing you on that Autumn day,
My mind seemed to float away,
To another time and place,
Visions of your handsome face.
Feelings, just won't go away,
Keeps returning day by day.
Caught up in the web of time,
Ever returning in my rhymes.
If I could take tomorrow,
Gladly trade it for today.
I'd wrap my arms around you,
Never letting you walk away.
poem by Heather Burns
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Homecoming Of A Wanderer (To Bhupen Hazarika)
He returned home through the same village roads,
Some morning declaring his fight against time and its tides,
through which he had gone.
Declaring miles and miles of road shorter than his dreams through which he had gone..
Declaring himself anonymous and wanderer and leaving promises of returning winner.
through which he had gone,,,
He returned.
On his return, the village road saw the same villager and he returned on the same wheels of his dreams
And those dreams were still full of life.
On his return but he was no longer an anonymous, he earned a name which could travel boundaries of land, river, ocean and time as well..
And when he returned he was no longer a wanderer for everywhere he went he left a mark of the river of his village where he belonged and now he owned a home in thousands heart
On his return he was no longer a wanderer
He returned through the same village roads
but not without gifts of eternity..
gifts from the zenith of human limits,,
gifts of pride and honour,,
gifts of travelling the roads of life,,
larger than travelled by any one ever,,,
he returned for he had left with promises of returning to his mother.
For sunset is nowhere more peaceful than the laps of her..
Dedicated to the wanderer,
At Each Closing Day
At the closing of each closing day
When all songs sung
The singer stands alone
When words make silence speak
After words
When each moment outlives the last
When all futures are futures past
I count the hour and the day
The colour of your hair
And when first we loved
Your eyes a world within a world
Your heart a heart within a heart
With each closing day
I count the hour we first loved
Knowing only time in timelessness is found
When every grain of sand within a hour glass,
Has fallen to the ground
The seed that's sewn will blossom in it's hour
And after time, after time
Will grow into a heavenly flower
yvette m smith 7.10.08
T
poem by Yvette Smith
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To a child on not returning
When time was an island in which we basked
Riding the river as it flowed past
Skimming stones in hazy lazy days
Knowing the immeasurable depth of the sky
Cloud spotting
Tree hawking
Lying under trees mast
In fields, rolls back
The camera from the eye
No 'need ' for states of happiness or bliss
Just this!
Sad dumb animals languishing
Beneath a blazing sun
Niether knowing whence they came
Or whence they would be gone.
Roll back the camera from the eye
The careful pose
'The smile' of yesterday
Nothing is lonelier than a child waving goodbye
To the other self, the adult, leaving home.
All other things buried
These trinkets of the past
Though the photograph is fading
Still the smile is holding fast.
yvette smith
poem by Yvette Smith
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BOREDOM in retrospective shades
It mostly rained mid afternoon
Pressed against the window
Dark dreary
Feeling nothing
Listless sad damp saturdays
Curtained off from the day
And sunless
Full of football league results
And muttered conversations over steaming tea
Football saturdays full of rain and nothing
With winter pressing in like night
Midday and waiting
For the boredom to sink in!
The hot cat slinks in
Lazy in summer pose
Limbs stretched over half read papers
Leaving pawprints across the broad sheet in repose
Forgotten bodies lie abandoned on the lawn
Waiting for post mortem
All thoughts of tomorrow suspended
The ice cream thawing slowly the thermostat is blown
Who wants to know about the weather?
There in the graveyard for the idle
Birds have nested made their home
Boredom
Belongs to the masses
The dissatisfied 'writer'
Of romances
And pulp ficition
The lottery winner who has it all?
[and ponders nothing]
To the factory and office worker
The bodies moving between
Shifts of day and night
To the old and lonely
But never to the child?
The cat is curious
The dog indifferent
The mouse is sly
And boredom comes to us all
Don't ask me why?
So many catch the train
So many rush on buses
Complain in queues
Push for seats
disconnect the senses
To the ipod and the phone
Leave their thoughts
of love and life behind
But take their boredom home!
yvette m smith poet of uk
july 09
poem by Yvette Smith
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A Photo from the Past
“A photo from the past’
I dreamt of returning home
Where for long time ago
I made a small house
Of green grass and broken woods.
I dreamt of returning to my childhood.
When there were no responsibilities
No worries, no fears of failure probabilities.
I dreamt of returning to my childhood,
When there were no extra loads.
Actually I returned
through a smiling child photo
through a moment from the past I borrowed.
The child ran far away
With her small hands she waves goodbye
She refused for only one moment to stay
Neither my world is hers nor the day.
I am not blaming her
As she is back to her time
And I am still in mine
So none of us can live in the other’s time.
And I wake up from my dream
On the smiling child in the photo
On the moment that for transient moment
I borrowed.
poem by Shymaa Awad
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Crowd
I cannot flee the crowd
My feet lose themselves in the rythmn
My body swims into the sea
I cannot see my hand or recognise my face
Nor feel a breath or sigh or hint of love
Each face faceless
Each heart unseen
And yet we live and breathe as one
with one breath unfelt
wiped clean
Unseen
In time we move
In one long stretch of feet and endless days
I cannot flee the crowd
So I must swim into the sea
I cannot scream, inside I scream aloud
For I must swim into the sea
And lose myself to be set free
For if I flee the crowd
I fear i'll drown.
yvette smith
poem by Yvette Smith
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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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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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Time To Go Home
Henny
Hey now mine host, dont be so melancholy
Youve made the most out of amy balls folly
You went crazy, ran off with an actress and didnt get rich
What can I say? I still love you, you son of a bitch
Norman new yorks gray and cold but somehow I miss that
Norman and
Running the gull reef club bordered on hand to hand combat
Henny
You beat the odds, water gods now its time for shalom
Hey mr. paperman, I think its time to go home
Chorus
Time to go home norman
Time to go home
Norman
Hey mistuh papuh-mon
Time to go home
Chasin illusions can get quite confusin
Hey mr. papuh-mon time to go home
Norman
Henny Im sorry I hurt you
Thats all I can say
Henny
Who knows this whole episode
Just might end up on broadway
Norman
To hell with bureaucracy and island mystery
Henny
Lets clear the air dear but no more affairs here
Norman
To hell with the hill crowd and life or death parties
Henny
I know a guy who has contacts at sardis
Duet
Hey mister (mrs.) paperman I think its time to go home
Chorus
Time to go home norman
Time to go home norman
Hey mistuh papuh-mon
Time to go home
Chasin illusions can get quite confusin
Hey mr. papuh-mon time to go home
Time to go home norman
Time to go home norman
Hey mistuh papuh-mon
Time to go home
Chasin illusions can get quite confusin
Hey mr. paperman
Time to go home
Time to go home norman
Time to go home norman
Hey mistuh papuh-mon
Time to go home
Chasin illusions can get quite confusin
Hey mr. paperman time to go home
song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Old Friends
I caught a glimpse of you and me today
Whilst walking through a park
Where two friends walked and talked
Under trees filled with laughter
When carefree we shared bad jokes
And pretended to be other people on the phone
I miss the prayers the love
The friend that never left me on my own
Who shared dreams and poetry
Who made minutes stretch into an hour and more
Who was always knocking on my door
Who listened to my tired relentless rhyme
Who forgave me for never being on time
And without looking consumed my terribly bad cooking
The holidays the photographs the arguments and fun,
It's twenty years and more,
Oh how I miss that knock upon my door!
yvette smith
poem by Yvette Smith
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Fatigue
Tired today
Almost a reed broken
Worded out from speech
Finding a peace
In hung silence
And these are all clouds
No dreams tail
There is nothing to reach for
But this, in this moment
Loved out of love
Tired, yes I am tired of 'I love you'
You, who must listen
You, must you love me?
Unseen I walk beside you
Must you understand?
More than a measure of breath
A day spent with empty hands
Must you know me?
How can you know?
All that is missing in the spaces
Between today and tomorrow, ?
And another year passes unseen,
And the universal parent is waiting,
Yes he is always waiting
To take us home
To take us back
To a time when we were living without want,
Only knowing we were loved,
And that is all,
And that is that!
yvette smith 26.1.09
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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