Virus
A world rocked
Shaken
Broken
Dissoloution of words
Who washed them all away?
Today I awoke to find
A 'virus in my hardrive'
Is that a metaphor for greed?
That rots the healthy guts
Of every leviathan that sunk its teeth to deep,
Leaving so many poor Jonahs
Outside 'the belly of the whale'? ?
Now hollow
Spitting out a 'last dime'
For the homeless!
yvette m smith sept 08
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
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
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Radio Girl
Every morning she hung her sad same song
On the hum of the radio words
Mimicking
Her coffee mug
microphone under her chin, lip synch
Always late for work
Humming the same sad song
On the bus
Always arriving
As if she were somewhere else
[Visiting another life]
yvette m smith sept 08
poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In Translation
Arriving with no intepretator
Leaving with signals and signs
On the elevator
In the pressed drudged crowds
Filled by the strangeness of infatuation
Your first arrival
Under the flash of a neon ray
Leaving with the wrong signs
In your back pocket
The price tags and the labels
As if heaven was an eternal shopping mall
And hell was a supermarket checkout queue
Missing the signs and the cues
Leaving in an unfamiliar way
Unexpected
The wisest words are always spoken by children
Before reading and learning
In translation!
yvette m smith march 09
aka yvette m smith
circa march 09
poem by Yvette Smith
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A brief encounter [with a jelly]
It was a wibbly wobbly 'affair'
Where dibbly dobbly was nibbling
Wibbly wobbled her way
She moggled his muggle
Then turned away
He was smitten smocked dead
By this little twiddle kitten
But in the hot clime of a humid day
his wibble sighed and flobbed away
She moggled his muggle one last time
As he slid and was slewn into slime
She sigh eyes wept still
She sunk skid into a small pool
By the window sill
Slod into one slum
At last they made molten...in thawing
Became one!
yvette m smith sept 08
poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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Poem
This poem is a gift
Free words
Under the stench of a barbed wire world
Flowers that live on
After the flowers have been blown from the graves
In the midst of war
These words are a gift
A balm for the poor hungry mouth
To feed on
After the nightmare of carnage
Of lines written in blood
On broken walls
Where fathers and their families lie
Still and swollen in unmarked plots
These words are a gift
They are free
Washing the wounds
Making speech live on
Even after so much darkness
They are the lightness
Bringing light
yvette smith june 12 2009
poem by Yvette Smith
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Born
Today I was born,
Like the first ray of bright summer sun breaking,
Turning the day from the darkness
Today I was born,
Like the first bud breaking upon
Knowing it will flower
Leaving its scent in the earth
And all around the sky has opened
A pure white canvas
On which I will paint my love
For today I know
I was born for this
This gift of life!
yvette m smith april 09
poem by Yvette Smith
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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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The Problem With Teeth
The problem with teeth that are false
Is they don't always ride out their course
They shift when you're eating
Or fly loose at a greeting
Some marriages end with divorce!
The problem with teeth that are false
Is that they won't always lie
In a mouth half their size
And can drive a sane man up the wall
The problem with teeth that are false
Is they don't always ride out life's course
In on a hospital stay they get 'put away'
Until you can't find them at all!
And when they do finally arrive
It's on a woman whose barely alive
Though's she's making a terrible din
But when she smiles she possesses your grin
And it's hard to reclaim them
Because she's renamed them
But the teeth that you've got won't fit in! ! .
The problem with teeth that are false
Is that they rarey survive in life's course
So it's better to brush and religiously floss
So you don't have to lose them at all!
yvette smith
poem by Yvette Smith
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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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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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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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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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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Misreading 'misnomer
I mistook blue for sorrow
Misread the blue clouds in a grey day
Full of white unclaimed passages
I made long corridors,
My loneliness,
Old mansions
Mysterious wombs
Echoing history
I riddled the earth
With the decay
Of my 'misinterpretation'
Smelt the burnt out ends of smoky daze
In hidden alleyways
And time was just another number
To add to the endless lists
Missed
My misnomers
'Waiting silently to 'un name themselves! ]
'Under a deep blue velvet sky]
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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Amen
They raised the oak
Then let it gently sink into the soft dark earth
Soon your roots would be rekindled
Some brought candles
Some burnt fires
But no one could interpret the silence
For a sign
Poets sat in bars
At the same chair
Where they were always seated
Copywriting the space
Possessing a certain look
That wasn't theirs, yet...
The midwife nearly always arrived late
And birth was just a second from another death
The children stood laughing at the gate
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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