Poetry
These words are not porcelain
Nor are they sculpted from a certain glass
Nor do they shine even after the hour is passed
But they break like flesh and bone
They are a metaphor
For china
For fragile things
And underneath lies the poetry
Beneath the skin
It lives and breathes
Some senses burn hot
Some passion dry cold
But beneath the tempest
Lies the still hour glass
Of all thats told
And these words are the flesh and the bone
The lines in your head
The shadow in the photograph
The stories you have lived
For who can read you, after words?
Who can know the journey you have taken?
Or understand such imprints in the sand?
And yet they the live and leave their sign
In the body of one life
yvette smith feb 09
poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Art Of Rejection
There is an Art to 'rejection'
First they 'hook you in'
With tales of love and words of 'I love you'
The sugary sweet pill of flattery
Of making coral shine from broken shells
Knowing all to well
Such fragile beauty
Could not bear the lightening breakers
Mountain storms
Until tempest tossed
You lie on stony shores
Bone on bone
salt ravished flesh
Your dry lung cannot breath without the 'other'
There is an 'Art to rejection'
First they hook you in
with soft bait
And looks that catches your approval
Knowing your fragile beauty
Cannot withstand
The windswept mouth of deserts
The hundred clasping hands and tiny mouths
That drink you dry
Until
Bone on bone you lie
yvette m smith dec 08
poem by Yvette Smith
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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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Reading Me
There is a chance I will go unseen
Under the pattern of things
Swimming just beneath
Your distracted gaze
You will read me
At least this far
The space between
Eye to page
But I will go largely unnoticed
The secret is
I always emerge
But as someone else
A fragment
A piece of shining glass
The photograph
Look closely
And you will see every i
Is a particle
Shaped into colour
Shade
Form made sense
Texture as soft as skin
Glossy print
Half felt
You will read me
With distracted eye
But I will remain
hidden
yvette m smith 18.9.08
poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Words
Words on this paper
Words in my head
Words while I'm texting
Computing
Unsaid
Words between people
Words on the phone
Words upon words
Even when I'm alone
Words from the Bible
I question
Don't mesh
Words from pornography
Making them flesh
Words with flat letters
Written in black
Good words and bad words
You cannot take back
Words that are shallow
Words that are deep
When they're too many
They put me to sleep
Words that I'm writing
And rhyming you read
Whatever I'm saying
There's prolly no need
Words from the alphabet
Words that can't be
When you are blind
And it's Braile that you see
Words that are worthless
And said on the fly
My words or your words
Are most likely lies
Words in a sentence
Wise words or fair
The only words earnest
Are those said in prayer
Written by Sara Fielder © 2011
poem by Sara Fielder
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Skin
Underneath my skin, is another skin
Underneath my bones some other bones
In which you have walked
And still walk
Underneath this tree grows another tree
In which you have grown
In which your roots have sewn
These shoots that rise up
Carry me nearer to you
I walk into your past
Breathe inside of your days
And your heart holds mine
Each beat
A sign that you are still living
Underneath these stones
Are your living stones
That will not die
I walk into your past
And live always in your presence
I carry you under my skin
Shaped by the dust of your bone
Born from the seed of your love
Carried on the wind
I carry you under my skin
Into the skin of another
Into the flesh and the blood of a lover
And you will live on
In the root of the tree
In the fruit of the flower
On and on
Held in the heart on another
I carry you under my skin
And always you are here, with me
poem by Yvette Smith
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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
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Beneath The Skin
Beneath the Skin a caustic red river
Beneath the Skin corrosive abuser
Beneath the Skin genetic in rupture
Beneath the Skin all cold and hungered
Beneath the Skin a still born forgiveness
Beneath the Skin cell transfer in whispers
Beneath the Skin a lover cries murder
Beneath the Skin all cold and hungered
Beneath the Skin i wasted this moment
Beneath the Skin old undiscovered
Beneath the Skin another lies ruptured
Beneath the Skin all cold and hungered
song performed by by Queen Adreena
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fundamental of Liar Chapter XLII: What Lies Beneath
beauty lies beneath
sense lies beneath
secret lies beneath
character lies beneath
rule lies beneath
mind lies beneath
past lies beneath
foundation lies beneath
root lies beneath
dark hole lies beneath
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part IV: Vita Nova: CXIII
TO ONE WITH HIS SONNETS
This is the book. For evil and for good,
What my life was in it is written plain.
These are no dreams, but things of flesh and blood,
The past that lived and shall not live again.
This is the book. I dare not bid you read.
Too much of my poor soul you would unlock.
Your own soul, if it tender were, might bleed.
I could not bear that you should only mock.
My life lies here. And yet in vain, dear heart,
The tale is told. One page it yearns to see,
One play where one best actor should find part.
But that, alas for love! shall never be.
Yet, if a sign you seek between these lines,
One hidden lies for you, a sign of signs.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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Sorry
Sorry I could not be there
Open my face
Surround you with lies
Comfort hides in disguise
And these are the masks
We carefully wear
Worn down
We bear them
For every occasion
Births
Marriages
And death
They keep us safe
A hearts distance
Out of arms reach
Love
I am sorry that I never told you these things,
About, what it is to live just beneath the surface
A breath away
Skin deep,
And yet
There is something left unloved
Like love.
And sorry, sorry, sorry,
So much left
Unturned unseen
These invisible things
My love, my love.
Yvette M Smith poet of uk
june 09
poem by Yvette Smith
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Canada
England, father and mother in one,
Look on your stalwart son.
Sturdy and strong, with the valour of youth,
Where is another so lusty?
Coated and mailed, with the armour of truth,
Where is another so trusty?
Flesh of your flesh, and bone of your bone,
He is yours alone.
England, father and mother in one,
See the wealth of your son.
Forests primeval, and virginal sod,
Wheat-fields golden and splendid:
Riches of nature and opulent God
For the use of his children intended.
A courage that dares, and a hope that endures,
And a soul all yours.
England, father and mother in one,
Hear the cry of your son.
Little cares he for the glories of earth
Lying around and above him,
Yearning is he for the rights of his birth,
And the heart of his mother to love him.
Vast are your gifts to him, ample his store,
Now open your door.
England, father and mother in one,
Heed the voice of your son.
Proffer him place in your councils of state:
Let him sit near, and attend you.
Ponder his words in the hour of debate,
Strong is his arm to defend you.
Flesh of your flesh, and bone of your bone,
Give him his own.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Rubbish Tip
At the rubbish tip they place their words
Just on the edge of
Surreal and absurd
A gold leafed edge
A lettered page
At teh rubbish tip
They stage
Their acts in
'THREE PARTS SCENE ONE'
Then you arrive
By stage door three
With a broken heart
All at sea
With the rythmn
Of the words
They left you to say
Can't see the wood for the trees today
At the rubbish dump
The hungry sit
Wide eyed
Death in their mouths
Waiting to eat
The bread of the words
The crumbs from a table
Of rotten verse
Yet still they come the blind and the dumb
Sit up and write
Recite it all night
Without a pause
Or space for 'applause'
READ THE PAPER!
It makes more sense to believe in
The tablod lies
Than live in a world of man made pretense
Take your tongue from your cheek
The fibre glass from your eye
BETTER NOT TO SAY A THING
DON'T TIP THE WORDS FROM YOUR MOUTH
TO THE PAGE...VOMIT BREACHED
just stay silent
Let the rain fall one more time
It's a sign of the times sell fast stories
Falling of dirty ink presses
distresses on paper
OUR DAILY BREAD SPOON FED!
ANGUS HAM STRINGS
poem by Yvette Smith
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N4
my theory lives thru
as you have said it: these are all lies
lies and more lies
and you know them all to be lies,
but as you said it,
you begin to understand the truth
beneath these lies
a layer of grass
another layer of flowers
another layer of clouds
beneath is the niche
burying the nuggets of
my own wisdom, how i live my life
and justify it later
before God, shall all lies be
truths
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Bone Of The House
in the house
he is a bone,
not a flesh on
the side
dogs outside are
waiting
he is not the
kind of bone
that any dog
wants,
the useless bone
in the kitchen
mere shadow of
the soup-stock
left-over of the flesh
inside the garbage can.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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How Many Lies ?
Once there were times,
Once there were reasons filled with rhymes,
Everything shared, everything told
You keep me so warm,
Protect me from all those mighty storms
And dreams seem so old
So look at us now, just look at us now,
With our hands on our hearts
And lines on our brow
How many lies must we tell?
How many lies must we see?
How many times must we say, its for the best?
And leave truth as the casualty?
Do you read through the lines,
Or believe the tv and the times?
Where can we find more ways to see?
You strain on the truth,
And make believe all when you cry wolf,
And the lies youre giving me
So look at us now, just look at us now,
With our hands on our hearts
And lines on our brow
How many lies must we tell?
How many lies must we see?
How many times must we say, its for the best?
And leave truth as the casualty?
Oh, well the truth is hard,
So when they write the book,
Fictions what you wanna be
Well, its your freedom of choice,
But you know that lies, are the cancer of democracy
Youve painted your face,
And now youve tainted your words
And now youre ready and armed with love
Well if youre head is steady,
And your soul is ready,
Were going up above
So whatever you wanna be,
Just come on along with me,
If theres truth in our hearts,
Maybe we can break free
How many lies must we tell?
How many lies must we see?
How many times must we say, its for the best?
And leave truth as the casualty?
How many lies must we tell?
How many lies must we see?
How many times must we say, its for the best?
And leave truth as the casualty?
How many times must we say, its for the best?
And leave nothing, yeah
song performed by by Spandau Ballet
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Imaginary Lover
Lover, you are not as I imagined
Though your skin like water,
Still flows through me
And the river drinks you in like a kiss
Yet untouched
I have loved you
In nakedness
I have found you
In clothes of flesh and bone
I have found you
Still
Undiscovered
Like a flower whose face upturned to the light
Shuts tight in darkness
I have found you
Wrapped in the bud of your own longing
And after you lover
After the the shining sun bowed to the moon
And the waves fell back into the sea
My soul travelled back to the shore
Without you
Only the shell of you remaining
Upturned in the sand
yvette smith dec 08
poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Anybody Listening?
You and I long to live like wind upon the water
If we close our eyes well maybe realize
Theres more to life than what we have known
And I cant believe Ive spent so long
Living lies I knew were wrong inside
Ive just begun to see the light
Long ago there was a dream, had to make a choice or two
Leaving all I loved behind for what nobody knew
Stepped out on the stage
A life under lights and judging eyes
Now the applause has died and I can dream again...
Is there anybody listening?
Is there anyone that sees whats going on?
Read between the lines, criticize the words theyre selling
Think for yourself and feel the walls
Become sand beneath your feet
Fell the breeze?
Times so near you ucan almost taste the freedom
Theres a warm wind from the south
Hoist the sail and well be gone
By morning, this will all seem like a dream
And if I dont return to sing the song, maybe just as well
Ive seen the news and theres not much I can do...alone
Is there anybody listening? g
Is there anyone who smiles without0 a mask?
Whats behind the words-images
They know will please us?
Ill take whats real
Bring up the lights
Is therew anybody listeing?
Is there anyone that sees whats going one?
Read between the lines
Criticize the words theyre selling
Think for yourself and feel the walls
Become sand beneath your feet.
song performed by by Queensryche
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I mean you
Yes you, I have always meant you
Because you do not just go away
This time
Of my lonely hour you come like
A persistent dream that does not
Leave me, I ask
Why?
Yes, you, I have always meant you,
I know
It is not enough to say the words
You like to hear
I understand
It makes the difference when you
Touch my hand
Kiss my lips
Slide your hands in my pants
And feel me
There
I know more shall be demanded
When I say the words
You do not want them
You need me
In this hour of loneliness
Yes, you, I mean you
My love
I will hold you still even if
I am dead
Even if my spirit does not know what
Flesh is all about
Yes, you, I have always meant you
I cannot touch you now,
Let me whisper then
The words you want to hear
This time
It is not my mouth that will speak.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The First Poem
The first poem I ever read
is the first words I ever said.
The words I love you
written by this beauty's tongue
turned a heart rosy red from a somber blue
and made me burn for my heart was wrung.
The first poem I ever read
is the first poem I ever said.
On her poetic lips love words refined
and shaped a sonnet on her flesh defined
On those lips I read a poet's song
And knew it was there my lips belonged.
The first poem I ever read
is the first words I ever said.
I love you, I love you
What does it mean?
These words said, to start anew
something pure and something serene.
The first words I ever read
is the first words I ever said.
Those first words she whispered into my ear
And in my heart, her poem stood near
Those are the most beautiful words one ever said
I love you, I love you, will live till its dead.
The first poem I ever read
is the first words I ever said.
I read her lips, I love you, I love you..
now to sleep I go in love's sweet bed.
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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Easy Prey
A demon lurks beneath his skin.
Although he looks so innocent.
His purpose is malevolent
to foster sin his sole intent.
Though he may wear a saintly air.
His rosy cheeks and twinkling eyes
his inner wickedness belies
His skill is telling artful lies.
He takes us in so easily
because we do not want to see.
It fills him with unholy glee.
To fool us with smooth sophistry.
Do as you wish, do as you will.
There is no God to punish you
and we accept his words as true
but only because we want to.
He is the father of all lies
and weaves his web of words so well
Encouraging us to rebel
against the rules we know so well
His words appear to set us free
from any fear of punishment
Indulge your sin do not repent.
Pursue a life on pleasure bent.
He leads the innocent astray.
His well pretended piety
conceals his veniality
and we respond obediently.
We sin because we want to sin
It is our choice to break the rules
Although we can pretend he fools
us into becoming his tools.
We know there is a price to pay.
A demon lurks beneath his skin
and we as fools invite him in.
We think to blame him for our sin.
There has to come a quarter day
when all he debts we owe fall due
and we are sadly left to rue
the things we did we shouldn’t do.
6-Feb-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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