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The man who lost his soul

The man who lost his soul had a hole for a heart,

And so, wherever he went, there was a draught

Until one day he met his 'better half'

And feeling complete

He could thaw his sad frozen feet, at last

At the fire of love

And all loss was a thing of the past!

yvette m smith jan 09

poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Soul On Fire

Theres a flame that leads our souls astray
No ones safe from its tender touch of pain
And every day its looking for new slaves
To celebrate the beauty of the grave
We are like the living dead
Sacrificing all we have
For a frozen heart and a soul on fire
We are like the living dead
Craving for deliverance
With a frozen heart and a soul on fire
And again were falling for disgrace
And hate will shelter us from the rain
We are enslaved by the sacred heart of shame
And gently raped by the light of day
We are like the living dead
Sacrificing all we have
For a frozen heart and a soul on fire
We are like the living dead
Craving for deliverence
With a frozen heart and a soul on fire
Addicted to our divine despair
(? )
But you will follow us to death
We are like the living dead
Sacrificing all we have
For a frozen heart and a soul on fire
We are like the living dead
Craving for deliverence
With a frozen heart and a soul on fire
With a soul on
Soul on
Soul on
Fire
Soul on fire

song performed by by H.i.m. (his Infernal Majesty)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Soul On Fire

There's a flame that leads our souls astray
No one's safe from its tender touch of pain
And every day it's looking for new slaves
To celebrate the beauty of the grave
We are like the living dead
Sacrificing all we have
For a frozen heart and a soul on fire
We are like the living dead
Craving for deliverance
With a frozen heart and a soul on fire
And again we're falling for disgrace
And hate will shelter us from the rain
We are enslaved by the sacred heart of shame
And gently raped by the light of day
We are like the living dead
Sacrificing all we have
For a frozen heart and a soul on fire
We are like the living dead
Craving for deliverence
With a frozen heart and a soul on fire
Addicted to our divine despair
The venom of the cross we bear
The guilt will follow us to death
We are like the living dead
Sacrificing all we have
For a frozen heart and a soul on fire
We are like the living dead
Craving for deliverence
With a frozen heart and a soul on fire
With a soul on
Soul on
Soul on
Fire
Soul on fire

song performed by by H.I.M.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hamlet soliliquy insomnia

'To sleep, or, not to sleep?

That is the question

Whether it is nobler in the mind

To heave the leaded unslept eyes of sleep

Adrift in that uncertain hour

Between the hem of dawn

And sombre headed night

Or drink the hemlock of dispair

And sleep herewith eternally

In some far distant land?

I, but there's the rub

For in that sleep of death

What dreams may come?

When we have shuffled off our mortal duvets

Must give us pause,

And wrench thus the heavy eyed soul of heaven

With a careful prayer

And thus without relent

Allow the troubled heart and troubled thoughts

No rest but beckon in the coming dawn

With one last stretch

One final yawn

Alas I melt and thaw into a dew!

yvette smith march 09

poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Gift

Love given

Ridden

Lived in

Loved in

Lost in

Love fallen

Broken

Stalling

Spoken

Woken in smoke filled rooms

Full of old whispers calling to

Love taken

Mistaken

Forsaken

Love wounded

Love preacher

Love teacher

Love prayer

Love giver

Lover taker

Love sinner

Love maker

Love over

Too soon

like a gift forgotten

Your face in the mirror

Much older

yvette m smith sept 09

poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Don't Ever

Don't ever let me go,

Though I may fail you

And break you

And take you to places you don't want to go,

Take a moment to forget what love is

All the strange euphemisms

That one word takes

And the vows we never keep

And the dark places where love weeps

And let love speak

As if for the first time

When you were mine

For all of love

Is condensed into one heart one place

It is the soul at the bright centre

A world within a world

The human in the human race

yvette smith great poet of london town

april 09

poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Yes

Yes I have lied to you about love and truth

And all those things you hold so dear

Yes I have lyed with you

And in love

And in truth,

And told you every dream within my heart

And in this place I find our love still resting here

yvette m smith dec 08

poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Love Is

Love is not that simple

Not as simple as,

Love is?

Yet I remember you,

In and out of love,

Nothing lost

That is not gained

Yes I remember you,

In and out of love

In a year full of famine

Finding you here

Standing in the midst of war

After the rain

And the dance of lost chances

I remember you standing here

As clear as a picture

Brighter than those days now gone

Moving in and out of love

Like shadows

In and out like waves across the sun

So much to live for

So much richness found in famine

And love is, and love was,

Never quite here

Never quite gone

yvette smith july 09

poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Love is a funny thing

Love is a funny thing,

But I could have died laughing when I lost it

poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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Love Is A Beautiful Thing

()
Producers:
Albums: wildest dreams (japan only - 96), diana princess of wales tribute (97)
Been so long since I left you
Do all the things you used to do
In all this time I cant forget you
Everywhere I turn I think of you
And i, I wanna trust you baby
You, youre all I need
Soul to soul, fire to fire
Nothing like this mans desire
Love is a beautiful thing
One and one, you and me
Baby its our destiny
Love is a beautiful thing
Love is such a sweet emotion
I wanna share it all with you
With your trust and endless devotion
There aint nothing in this world we cant do
Tonight, I wanna thank you baby
You, you make my life complete
Soul to soul, fire to fire
Nothing like this mans desire
Love is a beautiful thing
One and one, you and me
Maybe its our destiny
Love is a beautiful thing
Tonight, I wanna thank you baby
You, you make my soul complete
Soul to soul, fire to fire
Nothing like this mans desire
Love is a beautiful thing
One and one, you and me
Maybe its our destiny
Love is a beautiful thing

song performed by by Tina Turner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The serious thing about poetry

The serious thing about poetry

Is the 'serious thing about poetry'

It is not in the writing but the reading

We define it!

We who did not write it

Or know the serious thing about poetry

Is in the 'business of writing'

In the silent inflections and reflections

In the silence

Just the silence

And the space

And the writer

Writing

First feeling

First breathing

First yet not first

Then recalling

In diary

On dictaphone

While alone

In a crowd

In a park

Round the back of the track of

The old garden, where you used to play

Taking your time

Walking the long way home

With your head full of books

Your book, full of thoughts

And the serious business

Yes the serious business of 'Art'

In the making...

Making or a name?

The serious thing remains

Afterward untouched

Always the same

After the awards

They all went home

And some hung their OSCARS in the loo

And some feeling foolish hung their heads in shame

For the sake of the art

For arts sake

Finding still trying to find whose to blame?

yvette m smith 7.2.09

poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Penelope Pidgeon

Pidgeons were scavengers, hangers on

They scrapped and crapped

All over the square

They were worse than the Tourists

With the yanky doodle stare

Penelope got stuck

With Pidgeon

This was not her name...

But it stuck

Like mud to a shoe

And her feet were the giveaway 'clue'

Turned in as she walked

Grossly deformed

She was laughed at, at school

And hideously spurned

Devoid of affection

She had no recollection of love

Then one day in the park

She got a sign from'above'

At first sight she saw the wings of a dove

Descending slowly they turned to brownish grey

She felt a splat on her shoulder

It wasn't her day!

A pidgeon landed beside her on the street

Its toes were similar to hers

Curled up with one missing toe

It's feathers were mankey

It limped with nowhere to go

Feeling a 'flash of passion'

For the very first time

Penelope took it home

In a box

For weeks she kept it warm and fed

Some days it rested on her pillow in her bed

But she knew a day would come

When plump and fit it would be gone

Alas that day had come

She felt a pang a silent cry

But just before she let it fly

She clamped a ring around its feet

And to make the journey complete

She place a ring around her own

Hoping one day, it would fly back home

For Penelope could not forget

That fated day when they first met

Yvette smith sept 08

poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Perfect Lover

My perfect lover was sent to me

By way of a hypnotherapist

On a soft deep couch

It summoned itself

Through soft words

Spoken

Soporific

Like drunk angels

Whose wings too heavy to fly

Rested on the shutters of the eye

Losing track of time

Lost in the hush of a cloakroom

When all have gone home

But one coat remains

Waiting to hang a life on it

Waiting for a love to come

Even after the fifty soft minutes have past

And the light breaks the shade at last

What remains

One single coat

You reach into it and pay

With a fifty pound note

yvette smith sept 08

poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Sorrow Of Words

The sorrow of words that rarely tell themselves

They sail like brightly coloured balloons

Lost in their own universe

They spin off the edge of a tongue

kissing air and emptiness

Seldom filling loneliness

Leaving their sound like a symphony

A faint noise hanging in the air

Somewhere in the back of my mind

The radio is playing

A song I used to know

yvette smith oct 08

poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Boredom

Boredom is not something that comes easily to me

Infact I have to work at it

Wishing it to slink in like lazy cat on a hot day

I feel the heat

The sting and the sweat of working up to a 'symphony'

Of half baked plans

Frustrated 'goal's

Of dissillusionment

My attempt at boredom has failed

The weather never ceases to amuse me

So I tune in, instead of out

There's something great about [other peoples] the news

Don't ask me why? ,

I haven't got a clue!

yvette m smith july 09

poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lost

The loss began out of sequence

Not quite inevitable

As the measure of a grief

At least in the procession

The pall bearers

The expenses

This loss

Outrode the cold cadaver

lying stiff like a stuffed doll

Half resembling a loved one

Casket ajar

Somewhere in the living room

By the armchair now empty of him

No this happened, long after he was gone

The loss happened

Out of sequence

When walking down a road with a familiar name

Took you by suprise

When walking backwards towards home

You return to find a dumb child

Jamming a key into a different lock

This was not your block

You lost the familiar scent of it

The room

The place

The time

The reason had left you

A blank

Uncertain

NAMES NO LONGER MADE SENSE

And you belonged to no one

No mirror could tell you who you were or are

No shopping mall assistant could escort you to safety

Only a waiting car

Left with the remains of you blank eyed

sad child wasted

With a few coins in yor pocket

It happened out of sequence

And suddenly

Arriving in a white landscape

The light almost erased you

Nothing could have prepared you for this

All maps signs roads names homes places faces

Strange

No use now

More alien this isolated slow death of you

Wishing

One last dance

One salvaged heart

From the wreckage

Of all losing him

This last slow circuit

Squeezing out the last ebb and flow of light

yvette smith april 09

poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Prayer

There is no prayer, for the dead man in the street

For the pauper who plies his trade

For the traveller with dirty feet

There is no prayer that can eclipse the sun

For what is done is done!

No mourning

Turning cry

No casting shadow

Only dust

And so much lost

In unprayed prayer

Their lives

Waiting to begin in praying

Beyond hands tied down

And lights fragile threads of dawn

The street is full of them

These silent chanting

Unheard prayers that mourn

So many lives

Lit candles

Waiting to be heard

In the darkest light

yvette m smith uk poet may 09

poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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