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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Related quotes
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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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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Underneath The Stars
When the closed eyed dawn
Breaks the silence
Of the still dark nights
Ceaseless argument
When restless skies move unseen
Beneath the curtain
Each ruin a dream
Unshed
Unseen
And underneath
A pillow of stars
Still waits
To illminate
The moons unshared secret
Come walk with me beneath the lamplight
And leave your fingerprint
Upon my heart
And let the rivers rippling beat
Prepare to dance
yvette m smith dec 08
poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Unread
Unread the faces in the street
That cross and cross the path
Where they meet, and do not meet
The eyes unseen
There, there are windows without souls
But two feet mark the spot
And on they go
casting their lot beneath them
Like an afterthought
Can you see the lines in her skin?
See the colour fading from his hair?
The old lady in the street who talks to her imaginary friend?
The lover and the stranger
Share the same seat in the park
Exchanging looks and numbers
The old man with a parting centrefold
'I grow old I grow old'
Do you see these unseen things?
The automatic gestures?
The tarnished rings?
The bell that tolls?
Ringing in the godless?
Ringing in the godly?
They all share the same seat
Break bread
But do not speak
Or see
The wonder of their skin
The same blood shared
The same hunger
Just beneath the all seeing
Unseen eye
The window without a soul
The souless window
All pressing in
crossing paths
line upon line
Written on skin
faces without maps
Feet without direction
catching the last bus home
After 'callling time'
So much crowding in
So much being alone
yvette smith june 09
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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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You
You make me laugh
The way you smile with your critical eyes
And point with your finger of wisdom
In the direction of mecca?
Or Ambrosia
Or some other foreign God
So you bending your rod
Bow
Down
At the high temple of pure wisdom
You who understand
'nothing'
About being human
Distracted by dead writers
And
These broken lines
Keep you in detention
Held back in school
While the world goes racing by
Full of hot blood and fury
And the passion of being alive
[this is just a commentary]
yvette m smith may 09
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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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
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Conundrum
I am not who I say I am
Who I say I am, is not, who I am
So who am I?
cue.....'Looks intently at the words and trys to read them, backwards! '
minus so...moving question mark back three spaces'
william shakespeare aka? yvette smith
circa march09
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Read Me
Read me like you would read your favourite book
A fine wine
A line that is not mine
That baits the tongue
And hooks you in
Read me like you would read a star with just one look
And see a whole constellation rising
Where you fear to tred
Come read each word each turn of phrase
Each slight of hand
Each tone
The careful wits display
Of art
That's choreographed
Like trees in may
That bud
Be careful of the bee that feeds within
If suddenly disturbed it has an awful STING!
poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bad Poem
A bad poem is like a bad dog
'Bad boy go and sit in the corner'
They often begin in the early hours
On a yellow post it
After a night of restless turning
You may describe yourself
As ' a skewered 'FISH'
This poem is not your chosen dish
It may arrive without a 'fanfare' or a fuss
On a plane or train or bus
Frantically you scribble down
Every nuance, every frown
The bad poem is not easily distracted
But in recital it is badly acted!
It is the bad egg
The sin of poor timing
A bouffant without a bounce
A muse that needs continual 'priming'
Neither good or bad or sad or.....
Melancholy or blue
It is that fatal flaw
Of being human
It resonates in all that's true
That perfect part of being you!
yvette m smith may 2009
poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Stalked
I have been stalking you now for the last twenty four hours
But I seem to have gone unnoticed
But there is someone following me who looks remarkably like you
Do you possess a blonde wig by any chance?
poem by Yvette Smith
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The Untitled Song
I tried my best to get over you
Kept my distance so I wouldnt have to show
That the things which I kept hidden by my casual smile
Were the things that I needed you to know
You could have seen the acting on the stage
You might have read the writing on the page
You could have noticed that a heart went breaking into two
But you never knew it was I was falling for you
Sometimes I still think I could get to you
Then I laugh and think I could swim the seven seas
It seems when Im set to fly theres a storm up in the sky
When Im set to sail there isnt any breeze
You could have seen the acting on the stage
You might have read the writing on the page
You could have noticed that a heart went breaking into two
But you never knew it was I was falling for you
Its been some time now that I saw you in a photograph
Looking just the way you did so long ago
I could almost see you throw your head back and start to laugh
In that gentle way that used to let me know
Things were okay and a hurting song is just a cliche
And whats the use if they only always fade away
Just like the sun just like everyone but you
song performed by by Indigo Girls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Submission To A Badly Writ Poem
There is a theory about single women [of a certain age]
That like the freudian slip up
They are one cat owners
Some inhabit a single room
Some have a one bed flat
[They are hidden in basements]
They have bad hair and teeth
They have kept their secret behind old photographs
They keep friends to the past
At the back of the fridge shelf with the old vegetation
Taking up residence
Wearing the same out of date dress
Dancing alone
Out of time
Who told them this?
When did this happen?
Who wrote the expiry date on the label
'marked woman thirty and upward going nowhere?
Some people [they are always on mass and nameless]
Believe in labels and counting calories
They live on green salad and french fries
And old movies? did I say 'old'
Who told them this?
Who took away their names?
Took up residence in their minds
.................read THE NEWS
It's happening in a town near you
yvette smith april 09
poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tiddly wink
who gives a Tiddlywink, what I think?
If I needed a shrink to read me
Read me? means
Love me means?
Who gives an A-TO Z
Who needs a map to find a clue?
Like a face needs a smokescreen
Like a truth needs disgrace
Neglect needs significant attention
Who needs a shrink
To think what they think?
Hold freud on a bookshell out of view
Who needs religion
Like a cross
And a dusty headed pew?
Who cares must first undress their own indifference
And what is private must be spent in publics view
Who believes in peace
Must first believe in contempt
And who believes in nothing but a holding back,
Must first believe in argument
And if in speaking truth
I concede to all that 's false
Then such marriages are followed by divorce
For who gives a tiddlywink what I write or what I think?
If I wanted to be read, .............I'd see a 'shrink! '
amy pile o crock
aka yvette smith
march 09
poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Stones
Some are soft and smooth and small
Embedded in the sand
Some stay hidden
Like a memory a word
And some are swallowed by the rain
And some lye still and glisten after storms
And some are ochre
And some are dyed in crimson shades of red
And some are smooth soft pearls of sapphire blue
Gracing the sea and sand
And some are collected
Like afterthoughts
And some are forgotten rubbed clean
Some children turn them into trinkets
And some become dreams
Or lost down stream
And some are stripped clean
Placed on cluttered mantlepieces
Amidst photographs
And chiming clocks
And some are picked by idle schoolboys
Learning the art of war
Watching them turn the earth to red
Watching them hit the head of the bank
And fall unnoticed to the floor
And some become the stepping stones
Arrows that fly in foreign lands
The bitter pearls
That serve as markers of contempt
That turns a child's hands to war
yvette m smith feb 09
poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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