The importance
The important have learnt to disagree,
That is what is important
To find some consolation in division
[there is no I]
And every force makes sense
And every argument disputes
[there is no I]
In the beginning
They strive against the perpetual tide
And finding hope, in hopeless resoloutions
In vain naming a name
Making fiction
[ never really free]
What is freedom?
All illusions present possibilities
Their aim is to overturn a system
That made them
After epitaphs
Embracing only air and anonymity
Being.....
Wanting only nothing
Another name for?
yvette smith jan 09
poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
A painting a hieroglyphic an epitaph
I painted the trees as birds in flight
Wings pressed against the hour glass
The bird clock stirring
Under the television light
And the ' green bush' was a green bush
And the bush was a bright ray of light burning
I held my passion
Claimed a name for naming
Untrod, unfelt, half seen territory
Making walls my strangers
Making mountains
Captains of my heart
Heroic summits
Left clouds dreamers
And streamers trailing dove tail
Old engravings
Unknown Heiroglyphics from another life
There admist the whirling pools and crackling laughs
The sun and ease of day break
Were the broken, unspoken stones lye amidst the,
Epitaphs!
yvette m smith poet of uk
july 09
poem by Yvette Smith
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Borderlines
Beyond the limit of 'ourselves'
Beyond the making and the undoing of our tongues
Borderlines
No need for ritual here
No need for argument
The blank posters
The blind accomplishment
These borderlines
Leading
Seeking to
Unseeking
Unmet
Naked disguises of
Relinquishment
Of 'only in having'
Having nothing at all!
The surveillance of our lives twenty four seven
Crowds small
Names lettered small
Numbers
Digits
Uncomposed/Our hollow dearest illusions
Looking for 'holy'
Unseeking
Disregarded
Making ' minds citadel shine'
These thin borderlines
Between nothing
And nothing at all
Signs?
Your letters ride out shaky
In a dying light
And tomorrow?
Who knows
yvette m smith august 2009
poem by Yvette Smith
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Fear Of Freedom
They fear from afar
The freedom denied to them
Made cold iron bars their home
Darkness their daylight
Made soft hands cruel
Eyes twisted
Hearts cold
Vented rage and spleen on corners of hyde park
Stood erect and hovered over passers by
In servile anorak and worn out jeans
Put the P back into' Proliteriat'
The M into Messiah
Made a 'name' out of 'prophet and preacher and seer'
Talked red Red,
Flushed with cheeks full of roses
Preaching marx and hope for the chained masses
You talk of liberty
Of hunger
Of crusts of bread
Of stale words and stagnant water
And endless death
There is 'no hope' you preach 'no hope of freedom'
Just the thought of it makes you run for your life
Back into your safehouse full of' possibilities'
Theories and lies
When they are gone
These children who have found the light
Who will listen?
Take the dog from the bone
And he will hunger for all he does not have
Staring at the face of poverty
In a street full of gold
Knowing the pursuit of happiness is all he has ever 'owned'
yvette m smith nov 08
poem by Yvette Smith
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Possession
Only in the letting go
Seeing a patch of sky above the trees
Letting in the flow of days clear breeze,
And with a gentle ease, find love in setting free,
Finding all in 'self', possessing
Possessing all, in setting free!
yvette m smith uk poet!
27.2.09
poem by Yvette Smith
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Experiment of God's Wish
That we live encouraged,
To acknowledge and grow...
Is important.
That we share what is learned...
And upon others bestow,
What it is we know...
Is important.
That the slate is wiped cleaned,
From that which is demeaning.
And we strive to occupy our minds,
With meaning and beneficial things.
And this to others we present and bring...
Is important while we still exist.
To discover that which affords us all happiness,
Is important.
Since this is why we have been blessed to be here!
And this is the 'experiment' of God's wish!
For you,
And me.
On this planet we have come to call Earth.
This has been important,
From the time we experienced,
That process of birth.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Light
It dazzles in a clear night
Made clearer still
By artificial rays
Making a path to guide us home
It is a beacon
A bright halo of hope
A candle of warmth and sentiment
It makes love sound heavenly
Makes our journey safe and full
As if it were a divine hand resting on our shoulders
Without it
The stars would dim and fade out
The sky fill with darkness
The lamp would retreat
Into formlessness
The sky would be lost to the darkness
There would be no sun
No moon
The soul would close up and die
Even noise or speech or sound
Would be senseless
detached and barren
All things living sleeping
Light
In the beginning there was light
All living things followed
And these were only the signs leading homewards
yvette smith april 09
poem by Yvette Smith
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Silence
The silence gives me a tongue,
That I have not yet learnt to speak with
It suffers the drip drip dripping of the tap
In this dry urban flat
Before the rain has fallen
Silence gives me a tongue
That I have not learnt to speak with
It reaches beyond the language
More sacred than a prayer
More wise than holiness 'itself'
We do not worship it
Or see it's God like form in the 'shook gold of a sun rising'
Much softer than the sweetest kiss
Much older than a year in which we have lived
It knows no grief or sorrow
Only the joy of harmony
Reaching beyond each root beginning
Each form ending
Like eternity in one breath
One life still unfolding
[beneath all we know]
yvette m smith poet of uk
may 09
poem by Yvette Smith
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The conversation
The tree was bare
The ripe fruits picked
Stored out of sight
The most important sign
Was found in absence
As if you and I were never here
And words had been the buffers
That diminished the silence
Almost to nothing
Not quite there yet
As if clocks had a different face
Turning in away from minutes
And scraped back hair
The table was full of distance
And safety
I imagined walking away
Steeped in white shores
Lost in the sand
Knowing the dots on the horizon
Were as strange as that familiar face
And with time shifting place
I would meet you again here
Always beginning
For the first time
[After conversations ended]
yvette smith
poem by Yvette Smith
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How To Write Wrong Right
What is wrong is often misunderstood as right
And what is right is often wrong
And so many write the song
And make right wrong
And do this right
Error perfect
Taught the perfect flaw
There is no cure or cause or fate
Of late forgetulness makes us feel blessed
Make sense from 'Ignorance is bliss'
Making what's wrong, our perfect right
We create 'our genius' over night! !
mary shelley junior
AKA Yvette m Smith
dec 08
poem by Yvette Smith
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Nobody Sings
Nobody sings.........
And goes largely unnoticed in a crowd
He doesn't crave affection, attention
Fame or celebrity
He is proud of his roots, of being 'a nobody'
It means he is free
To live simply
quietly and be,
Himself
Most importantly
Like an unspoilt day
In an artists gaze
Unframed
Never twice the same
But being 'ordinary '
Means always longing to be 'somebody'
Famous
Powerful
A ttractive
Bright
The 'ordinary' wannabe a 'somebody'
Not out of sight...but always SEEN,
They cleave to ideas of 'celebrity'
Cheap cosmetic alterations
Achieved on higher purchase
Cloning serf for 'SELF'
[they are never free....being 'ordinary']
They feel lost on the shelf!
The perpetual victim who,
Drew the short straw
destabilised
Always wanting more.
But the 'somebody'
Always wants to be 'somebody else'
Never satisfied
Discontent
The somebody wants more and more
Without relent,
More fame
More notice
More cars and money
More easy uncomplicated love
More adoration
Infatuation
From the 'powers above'
Being 'somebody ' means
[You are never free]
To catch a plane or bus
Without a fuss
A face in the paper
Or on T.V
Being somebody
Means always wanting more
Unsure of what it is [exactly]
Somebody's become a bore
Predictable saboteurs of their own 'ascent'
Relentless in their' perfect argument'
They 'fix a face' for every public event
And become the architects of their own
Very public 'descent'
Blaming pressure of fame
Drugs and booze
Childhood trauma
Domestic abuse
Later they return
Dogs to their own vomit
With cash in,
Tell alls
confessionals
And talk shows
And daily journals
And finally their own column
Or show
Being a somebody means always wanting more
They are unsure of exactly what this is though?
Not really free just to be
'They' are always coming back for more
So being a nobody is much easier by far
Simply living your life
Being who you are
Not some faded has been/wannbe 'star'! !
yvette m smith sept 08
poem by Yvette Smith
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On Discovering My Own 'Importance
Somehow I am more important than I thought
But my shoes are dirty
So I cannot walk on the red carpet!
poem by Yvette Smith
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How Far Are You Willing To Go?
When I think of
True love, real love
I think the true test
Is how much are you willing to take?
How far are you willing to go?
To show
How much you love someone
Do you have a limit?
Do you love a person for who they are?
Or is it for what can they do?
What happens when
They can't do?
Will your love be true?
How about when you age?
And your looks change and fade.
Will your love still be the same?
Love is being honest
Can you discuss your feelings openly?
Are you free to disagree with understanding?
Or will there be
Days or weeks
Of not speaking
These are just a few things
It's only the beginning
The questions are never ending
Still the one that is most important
Is the one that you most know
Is how far are you willing
To go?
poem by Tameeka Smith
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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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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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Freedom and Beauty
It is a beautiful mind to feel free.
It is a beautiful feeling to set someone free.
Freedom is the hard statement to get.
Freedom is the only feeling to get.
*
Freedom is the statement that shows your independence.
Freedom is the power that shows your right.
But while speaking of almost 7 billion individuals on the earth
At least 7 billion needs and rights that might complicate their life.
*
Showing his independence might be more important for some people.
Feeling responsible for others may be more important for other people.
*
To be honest with you, i never felt free,
Because I didn’t know what it is.
After I realized what freedom is,
I saw how hard to recognize that you are free.
^
How hard to know that you are free to live.
How hard to know that you are free to speak.
How hard to know that you are free to love and trust.
How hard to know that you are free to be loved and trusted.
^
That what you have in your everyday life, is your freedom.
This is not just everyday schedule, that’s your freedom.
How blind are we to not see how free we are.
How ugly is it to not see how beautiful freedom is.
^
Freedom is beautiful, but hard to see.
Freedom is beautiful, but hard to feel.
poem by Sukhee Bukhbat
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On Contemplation
I tried to understand you
In order to understand myself
The prayer being the 'mirror'
For my contemplation
I excavated my 'idea of you'
Shaped always by my own carefully honed thoughts
My perfect ideology was never found
Neither satisfied or filled with discontent
I found myself a perfect shell
Whose 'echo' was devoid of argument
yvette m smith feb 09
poem by Yvette Smith
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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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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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Writing
Today I write , not myself,
But what you want to hear
The sun shone
The trees sang
The world was at peace
Today I write not myself
But the carefully woven tunes
You have learnt to hear
That shuts out the cluttered day
The nervous speech,
That gives you a lullaby
To lull you to sleep
These lies we keep
To keep us from harm
We are armed, only with dreams
yvette smith june 09
poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Poor
God is with the poor
But do the poor know God is with them?
As they look out from the crowd
Lost in their 'man made prison'
God is with the poor
But do the poor know God is with them?
As they look up to the proud
Who looks back with derision
And who can tell the poor that God is with them?
He who paints angel wings on ragged backs?
Makes hungry mouths sing for their supper
He who nothing lacks?
Who poorer still can say God is with us?
When homeless turn away from too much fuss
But God is with them
Is he with us?
And poorer still in having more
But never having too much
Who can say then God is with us?
yvette smith
poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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