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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Smile Lines
Met my match today
Felt the blood rushing and mingling
A curious and enigmatic thing
Spiders in my dreams
Synchronicity weaves like a web
When you were meant to be a meal
I want you bad!
I want you bad!
I understand why they say high school never ends
Never act my age
You can tell by the lines in my smile
That I have been around for awhile
So, insecurities
Are about as useful as trying
To put the pin back in the grenade
I want you bad!
I want you bad!
I understand why they say high school never ends
I want you bad!
I want you bad!
I understand why they say high school never stops
This isn't coincidence
There's no such thing
This isn't coincidence, no
This isn't coincidence
It's no such thing.
This isn't, no
I want you bad!
I want you bad!
I understand why they say high school never ends
song performed by by Incubus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The critic
The status of critics has changed,
The most important critics were those who stood on street
corners
Full of gossip and finger wagging
Or the busty burly matrons whispering over washing lines
These critics were the slanderers
The little vipers who hung by the school gate
Some still do,
This time they sink a pint or two,
In the pub with a couple of pug nose friends
But there is a class of critics
That whitewash your pale white words
Austere and aloof from the proof,
Scrubbed clean and mean,
They murder sentiment
Mock fools without 'a scene'
Redefining the 'new' 'illiterattii, ' who never went to school'
These critics wear brogues.....? ?
Am I being cruel? [or just ironic? ]
The men drink whisky
The women a gin/ vodka and tonic!
Fifty years ago they would 'parade'
In a uniforn of tweed and plaid
Post public school
But some critics just thumbnail through
Half asleep over scripts they render dead/ unread
'They are not amused'
So don't lose any sleep
They have no time you
yvette smith may 2009
poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Puppy Face
Puppy face is back
With those soft puppy cheeks
A healthy hue
Eyes full of dew
You fill my heart with love
A human form you choose to take
But inside I hear you bark and squeak
And I am sure when nature calls,
You cock a leg and take a leak!
Oh puppy face is back panting in the hall
I see you lolloping about
And jumping high to catch the ball!
You bring me so much sunshine
I'm so glad to be alive
When you are here so full of cheer
Leaping by my side
poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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 journey
Word sent
Word weight heavy less
I don' t understand the journey that you take
Only that your arrival is thread bare organic
Flimsy light purposefully driven
Under the skin of the object
You are telling me
That words
Are living
Whose cells unfold and multiply
Some insinuate a 'texture'
Some hybrid and hibernate
Some spring
Some loosen and unbud themselves
From surface forming
Those dark shadowy things
The recesses of what an amnesiac
Has chosen to desensitise
They are the memory box
The shiny button
The torn school name tag
The crumpled first diary
Some secrets
Some return to pure sensation
A first taste of being feeling
outside, of what it is 'to be'
They are alive
Living
After what is written is long gone
yvette smith april 09
poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What We See
I saw him from a distant
Walking through the streets
His eyes sparkled with a kind of absence
Only seen in dreams
As though I was watching
Those phantoms seen only in dreams
Yet in the daylight he was walking
His bright ebony skin gleaming
Under the weight of a large white cross
Suddenly so unremarkably strange
Yet he was as real as the day
Unfolding before me
Returning back onto the streets
In repitition
A ritual
A journey
Some have only dreamt this
Strange pilgrimage
To the heart of an urban mecca
Returning
MANTRAS
Walking between two worlds
Without waking
And what we see in the silence
yvette smith april 09
poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Flat Harry
Flat harry
Held onto his ship of 'one dimensionals'
His poster dream was full of ruin
His passion was to be found in the wreckage
These relics of some ancient grief
Flat harry kept a piece of the 'Titanic'
Under his bed
With his darkest dream
Flat harry was full of flaws and held his scars well
In a mirror crowd
He was the chat show celebrity
He gathered up his wounds for applause
He opened up his milk white pores
Knowing only clear white transparency
He slept at night with dreams of drowning
In someone elses life
Harry held onto his inflatables
His half intact ego
His 'tell it all confessional'
His 'dog collar' and his choirboy looks'
And someow he always floated to the surface
Amidst the so much ruin
The blank faced ocean
Still too shallow to drown
Head just above the abyss
And not for one second
Did he think
'There must be more to life than this? '
yvette m smith jan 09
poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Your proximity means a lot to me
Your proximity means a lot to me
Yes, it means a lot to me to be with you
And to be intimately close to you
Not just a physical togetherness
But with a soulful oneness with you
You have been the drive of my life so far
But here and there I missed you
As I chose to act differently from your direction
You never let me down any time
You kept your watch on me
Not uttering a word
Though you maintain a silence I know
What you expect me to do
That will please you
Your directions are not always worldly wise
Your directions are not always fetching
Your directions are not always rewarding
Your directions are often different from acquired wisdom
Your directions are not taught in any school
We understand them from the experience of not life, but of living
Still your proximity means a lot to me
It leaves behind a great satisfaction
After being with you and after having acted upon your direction
When I look back
I understand that
Actions performed as per your directions
Never made me regret them
Though at the time of acting
I needed lot strength than what I require
When I am acting on the path of acquired wisdom
Your proximity means a lot to me
Oh my love, that is hidden deeply in my heart
And you are different from
The wisdom planted in the mind
And gathered in life
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Make Me Feel Alive
Blood drips,
It rips me apart,
Watch my tears drop,
POP goes the noise,
The thin line between me and you is real,
Where I lay,
Where I must stay,
Away I go with you,
Sway my way,
Make me feel alive today,
Just one more day with you,
You Make feel so alive,
I feel as if I am complete with you,
You are the one for me,
Strange lines we crossed,
You crossed the path of lines you shouldn't have crossed,
STOP me from hurting again,
You are the reason why I feel the way I feel.
Make me feel alive,
Not dead,
Just alive,
Thats the way you make me feel,
To know that you're mine to keep,
To know that I am yours,
Puts a smile on my face,
You make me feel alive,
To know that I am alive just for you,
I love you from the bottom of my heart.
poem by Jennifer Rondeau
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pearls of Wisdom
Pearls of wisdom as never before, from the mouth of Christ our Lord,
Speaking words with authority, that come from the Throne of Eternity.
A wisdom which exceeded Solomon, whose heart was divided by sin,
Christ, with a heart perfectly pure, spoke words that will surely endure.
Pearls of wisdom, pure and divine, words spoken, for men of all time,
Directed to every tribe and nation; words of our Lord God’s Salvation.
Salvation sent from God above, through His Son, to show us His love,
Love that exceeded wisdom of earth, and received through a new birth.
Pearls of wisdom not well embraced, by many whom Christ had faced,
Although in God these men believed, Christ by them was not received.
Much of His wisdom is contrary to, that human reason of me and you,
But Christ’s Wisdom is greater than, all of that wisdom of worldly men.
Pearls of wisdom to all will come, to those who truly know God’s Son,
And dare to give their life to Him, Christ, who saves men from their sin.
Sin which blinds the minds and ways, of the many world leaders today,
And in their wisdom they cannot see, God’s timeless Truths of Eternity.
Pearls of wisdom God offers to men, when in Christ we’re Born Again,
And the pearls, spoken by Christ, become to us, the foundation of life.
As believers live to honor The Son, bringing Light of Truth to everyone,
Leading men to an Eternal Kingdom, using Truth and pearls of wisdom.
(Copyright ©06/2007)
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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Graffitti Artist
I blame the graffitti artist
Whose stolen swollen words
Emblazon me with rage
Paper walls torn
Page from page
Limbs discarded
Unwanted bodies
Cluttering the stage
'War made art'
I blame the graffitti artist
For sticking in the boot,
Making the 'literate mute'
For whose red passion tongue is rage
Slashed splashed
Marked on a concrete stage
No finer lines
No asymmetrical
Dialectical
Speaks speech louder
When seen
Across a half abandoned railway bridge
Broken brick and stone
Naming a homeless home
For dereliction vagrant vagabond
'Home sweet home'
The unwished unlonged
Blood letters
Burn on bridges
RAGING OUT THEIR FEARS
To deaf eyes
Blind travellers
Speaking speech
To speech
To the nobody
Unseen
Who hears
Who hears?
PREACH!
Yvette m Smith june 09
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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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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My Fridge
My fridge has a life of it's own
It's own
Why don't I have a life of my own?
I, plug it in, [that is the fridge]
And still it has a life of it's own
As it whines and sings
It's broken sonatas
So 'postmodern' for a fridge!
I, on the other hand only moan
Sometimes I think it is haunted
Possessed by the ghost of a fridge long dead
Do fridges have souls? , they are too cold
Full of white glossed metal
How can a fridge really feel?
This is getting surreal
But at night all alone
I hear it weeping
Could it be speaking
In 'fridge morse code? '
Filling in the gaps
Between sleeping
And waking
Wondering if life is there for the taking
What it would be like to have a life of my own
yvette m smith great poetess of the uk
april 09
poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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School report
You stood behind me
Watching, looking over my shoulder
I saw you writing
'Could have done better'!
I screwed up the paper
It missed the bin
My destination.... to write? ? or
There was more poetry in watching you
Unravelling the argument from your eyes
Burning still
So much passion lost in trying
So many paintings in the making
I make a sketch
Without true features
Passed blurring
Life is moving just below the windowsill
Shapes and bodies swimming
Pools of light ripple on the water
Barely visable
But not for want of trying
Crowds full of paintings
Shaken petals on a black wet pavement? I Pound a quote out!
[badly.......]
Words barely visable
Losing their way
Returning to nothing
I can see you watching
I watch you writing
'Could do better'
Barely visable
Not for the want of trying
I laugh and give myself an A for 'effort'
An A? What the hell does that mean?
In this world something has to make sense,
Survival after all must be 'worth surviving for! '
Not for the want of trying,
The want, of 'trying!
magnolia Turtle Bridge
'SCHOOL OF PROFOUND ISMS'
poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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School Is Not So Cool
School, School, School,
A school is not so cool
We're here 5 days a week
8 hours a day.
School, School, School,
A school is not so cool.
People laugh when we fall
we just have to make a call.
School, School, School
A school is not so cool.
We have to work hard to get good grades
I'm not going to do it no more
I do it everyday.
We cant go on the grass
We cant bother another class
We cant save spots at lunch
We have to go as a bunch.
We have 3 minutes in the hall
I'm always late what a ball.
We have to pay attention
if not we get detention.
School, School, School,
A school is not so cool.
They have to many rules
they play us as fools
if we get A's
the parents jump Hip Hip Hooray.
If we get F's
we tell them we need to take a rest.
We always have homework
we never have classwork
they have to many rules
they need to take it cool.
School, School, School,
A school is so not cool!
poem by Chantel Braatz
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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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