She Battles Him

She battles him

when war is done,

and whether win or lose,

when her blood is high and hot,

she climbs

the mountains of his thighs,

heedless of wounds,

heedless of weapons,

And pulls him to

new heights of

painful ecstasy.

Lustful as any warrior

he’s ever faced,

and more deadly

for the love she bears,

his flesh is claimed

as a  trophy of

love’s war,

empty of seed,

but not of life.


Where Prayers Go to Die

Unheard, or unanswered?

Does it matter now?

Their prayers lifted high in tender faith,

were shattered by the godfist in derisive mockery.


The eyes close,

the grip weakens,

the sight fades,

and the breath grows shallow,


and they are free.


But the gods are not where they’re going

And the river is black and cold


They can have no vessel of silver

They’ll receive no provision of gold


And stone by stone,

the ghosts tear the walls


For they are a part

of nothing,

having become



Standing among the ruins,


they mourn their dreams,

and in the gathering light of dawn,

they dissipate once more


And the whispered susurration

of fervid entreaty once more

forms the misty morning veil

around the broken walls

where prayers go to



There Are No Monsters Here


within your closet


There are no monsters here



beneath your bed

my child

There are no monsters here



upon your dreams

dear child

There are no monsters here


They’re all inside your head

my child

That’s where the monsters dwell


I promise in the morning


you’ll find them in the well,


For there they find

the entryway back into

childhood’s hell.

Melchora’s Spells

Melchora’s spells

enrapture me

capture me

sap me of strength

and will

to defy the

tidal pull

of her lunar love


Melchora’s spells

bind me

blind me

and find me helpless

at the base of her heart


Melchora’s spells

lift me

gift me

and seal the rift

between my need

and her mind


Melchora’s spells

smell of lilac and lavender

and honey and ginger

as I breathe deeply and

my soul turns

to ashes and smoke


Melchora’s spells

are vital

and gentle

and my reason’s reality

is contained between her hands


And I want to look away,

And I want to walk away,

And I want to be away

from her,

But that too, is part of

Melchora’s spells….




Anchors Away

See the sun set on our longing

to invade a distant shore.

See the dimming of desire

to go sailing off to war.


Harbored safely and securely,

anchors lowered close to town,

we will speak no more of killing,

and with families settle down.


Though the noble masts jut proudly

in the darkened twilight sky,

Hear the cannon’s silence softly

Sing a sailor’s lullaby


See the sails tied to the rigging?

They’ll no longer catch the breeze.

And there’s no more pipe and jigging

On the rolling, dancing seas


And the whales will give birth again

to calves beneath the moon,

fearing nothing from the surface

be it net or sharp harpoon.


And the lighthouse keepers

get to leave their cold and noisy


for there’ll be no more ships coming

in the darkest morning hours.


And violent storms that claimed

the lives of those who’ve gone before

will have no plunder for their crimes

that leave this happy shore.


So weep no more, my lovely bride

The tide is standing still.

And I’ll face the sunset with you

Til it sinks beneath the hill.



The Eyes of Heaven

The Eyes of Heaven watch me walk

across the virgin snow,

impassively marking

my passing


I see the winter wolves in

my periphery, gathering

in curious, carnivorous lust

for blood and meat to slake

their killing urge


The blade of my knife is


against my thigh


The weight of my sword

gives me


in the

high, white drifts


And the

Eyes of Heaven

glimmer with memories

of other travelers

who’ve traversed these

rugged rocks


Some to their hearths,

Some to their gods,

And it is all one

to the

Eyes of Heaven


And I stop,

feeling the chill night wind

in the thick fur

of my hood,

in the scruff of my

wild whiskers,

and look back into the Eyes of Heaven

And long to be




they are 

as blind to me

as they are



And the Eyes of Heaven


to dream



ages past,



virgin snow.





I Look Forward to Spring

This seemed to strike a chord…let me know what you think. Enjoy.

Beyond Panic

I look


to spring

I look


to run

I close my


when walking

and try to guess

what I



I look



waiting for

the bus

I look

up at the stars

in the winter



I look


to spring

© Alfred W. Smith Jr.

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