Category: Life

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

towers,

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

cold

against my thigh

 

The weight of my sword

gives me

balance

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

loved,

 

But

they are 

as blind to me

as they are

infinite

 

And the Eyes of Heaven

close

to dream

and

remember

ages past,

and

unsoiled

virgin snow.

 

 

 

 

I Look Forward to Spring

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

smithaw50's avatarBeyond Panic

I look

forward

to spring

I look

backwards

to run

I close my

eyes

when walking

and try to guess

what I

bump

into

I look

sideways

standing,

waiting for

the bus

I look

up at the stars

in the winter

sky

and

I look

forward

to spring

© Alfred W. Smith Jr.

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The Orb of Life

Look! my friend.

See! and weep no more

I have them here,

preserved by

your perserverance

 

Inside, they mill in

tranquil expectation that

you will see them all,

and claim them for your own.

 

Behold!

 

Your dreams

Your longings

Your desires

Your loves

 

They are here within

The orb of your life

 

But you must reach in

through

 

Your doubts

Your fears

Your rejections

Your hatreds

 

And be able to tell

the difference

for they are double-sided

but they are

 

all yours.

 

Death’s Handmaiden

Let bone fingers,

gentler than colder scythe,

close my eyes

in

eternal sleep

 

I would seek

Death’s Handmaiden,

dressed in mourning finery,

And plead a softer touch,

no less final for

all its gentleness

 

For all her smiling

reassuringly in

my final moment,

I would hear

at least

the faint echo of a

woman’s heart

where

none exists

 

I would kneel

in abject

Obeisance

to her

gory majesty

 

And take her hand

in gratitude

for mercy,

though I bleed

 

No sunset,

just darkness

without stars

 

I go

and wait for

you

in the drafty caverns,

the void

of her many- shadowed palace,

in a vast and ebon realm,

disguised as

a humble cottage

in the midst

of

woods and meadow.

 

The Eyes of My Elders

The eyes of my elders

Defiant and Bold

 

The eyes of my elders

hold secrets untold

 

The eyes of my elders

saw wonders and pain

 

The eyes of my elders

see spring in the rain

 

The eyes of my elders

have knowledge of stars

 

The eyes of my elders

are healing my scars

 

The eyes of my elders

saw friends to their graves

 

The eyes of my elders

sailed harrowing waves

 

The eyes of my elders

know babies by heart

 

The eyes of my elders

keep music and art

 

The eyes of my elders

the stories they tell

 

The eyes of my elders

are tolling the knell

 

The eyes of my elders

spread love all around

 

The eyes of my elders

now look at the ground

 

The eyes of my elders

are closing to sleep

 

The eyes of my elders

are now mine to keep

 

 

 

Within

smithaw50's avatarBeyond Panic

Within the world

we wandered

and walked without

a care

Within our hearts

we reached

and opened them

so they were bare

Within ourselves

we wondered

at what the other

sought

Of that bare heart

within us

we offered without

thought

And so within our love

without the world

we left behind

Without a backward glance

we closed the door and

drew the blind

And deep within each other

we put our trust and fears

and then discovered real love

is not without its tears

And so without you

now I live within my memories

The tears within my eyes will stay

I’ll live without love, please.

© Alfred W. Smith Jr.  2015

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And Yes, I Still Believe in Love

smithaw50's avatarBeyond Panic

And yes, I still believe in love
I still believe it’s there
It’s trembling out there somewhere in
the frosty winter air

Or trapped inside a mountain cave
from which it can’t escape
because it fell while running out
and gave its knee a scrape

Or floating on the raging sea
and looking for a light
to guide it safely home to shore
before it’s out of sight

Perhaps it’s on a city street
outside at a café
You didn’t hear it call your name
and hurried on your way

Perhap it’s somewhere crying
it cannot find a heart
that seems to want to keep it
not tell it to depart

So when we say we ‘look for love’
that happens to be true
I still believe it’s out there and
it’s looking for us too.

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I Carried Poem

I carried Poem within my hands

So soft and warm and trusting

I dropped it through a sewer grate

And now it’s wet and rusting

I carried Poem within my hands

And felt its small heart beating

A cold wind blew and though I tried

Death would allow no cheating

A Poem cannot be carried long

Its life is in the sharing

Of love and life and lyric song

And everybody caring

So if you ever carry Poem

Know that it must surely die

If you don’t make your heart its home

And write it down to let it fly.

Back Where I Started, but It’s All New

Blogging 101: Assignment 1  Introduce Yourself

I started writing late in life, after some things had happened, after some losses and victories, after some pain, after some memories were made. It’s been an interesting journey, and this is not where I saw myself in my younger days.

There are a lot of us who can probably say that, but it’s what you do with it when you realize it that matters.

That being said, I’m glad I’m here. I’ve learned some things about me on the way, things that I liked about myself, things I achieved that I didn’t think I was capable of, and I’m looking forward to what the future holds for me.

There have, of course, been setbacks, but I’m not the type to sit down and accept defeat. I guess I got that from my father, and watching him do his projects. He never took a short cut when it got difficult, and a shortcut was available. And the one time he was tempted to do it I was so surprised that he even told me he was thinking about it, he changed his mind, and we did it the right way.

But I knew then that he was slowing down…

So the characters and lands and stories are here; the young and old are here; the lovers and the warriors are here, the men and women, the children, the dragons, the demons, the magic (both dark and light) are all clamoring to get out while they can, and since I don’t believe in holding onto things or people against their will, I’m going to free as many as I can in the time that remains.

My goal, quite simply, is to write full time for the rest of my life, and leave a body of work that helps, entertains, provokes thought, and establishes across our man-made boundaries of insignificant trivialities (race, class, religion, etc) a common bond.

I want  my readers to be, in a word, immersed in the worlds of my imagination, and to come out better for the time they invested there.

It’s a lofty goal, but why aim low?

***********************

The Muse came into my office, looking like new pearls.

Guess that made me the swine.

She moved in close, her hands over my shoulders. I stood up, not wanting her to trap me. I had other things to do…she closed the distance again, standing a little away from me, but close enough to be distracting.

That perfume…like a new book at sunrise.

“But Alfred, don’t you understand” she said, her hand cool and soft on my cheek “it’s difficult to find an agent?”

I took her hand away, walked back across the office behind my desk, took out a pack of Luckies and a lighter.

“Yeah, I do. So let me ask you, doll,” I lit the cigarette, squinting at her curvy beauty through the unfurling, infernal smoke. … “When was it easy?”