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.
Stare we no longer
at
the setting sun
The evening starlight
knells
the day is done
And you and I
are here
Love’s victory won
Inner cage Outer rage
Kill the people Turn the page
Bleeding in an alleyway
Watching darkness hunt the day
We’re the only monsters here
Gods of violence, blood and fear
Rule blue heaven overhead
Die not with me when I’m dead
I am dead to faith and hope
Love is but a hanging rope
I’ll not dangle; Best beware
I will roast your heart so fair
Toss you like a broken knife
Dare you still to be my wife
Break inside the inner cage
Sail the sea of outward rage
Take me safely back to land
with your roughened, gentle hand
When your love has calmed the beast
Claim his heart your wedding feast
Ever fast and ever true
In the inner cage
with
you
© Alfred W. Smith Jr. 2015
Lifeless kings on broken thrones
Marrowless their hollow bones
In their fraying robes they rest
Swords and scepters on their breast
Ruling justly, Going mad
Kingdom happy, Kingdom sad
Wisdom, Counsel, Curses, Love
Ceasing from the world above
In the crypt the young man walks
And the silenced voice now talks
Do not seek to rule the land
Use no fair or iron hand
Power breeds a deadly fear
Give in to it and you’re here
Take your lute and travel far
To some distant summer star
In your youthful glory soak
Time enough for Death’s cold cloak
Bed and brawl through many lands
Soon the hour glass spills the sands
Sand grains stop the blood, you’ll see
Death no longer mystery
Learn and laugh and love your fill
Live before your
Time stands
still
And so what shall we say
here at the end of day,
Here at the cold of fiery dusk
Before extending our feet
and hands
toward the hearty
crackling hearth?
The fire that blazes there
used to be
between
us
but has cooled
like the surface of
the moon,
and seems to have
fallen
down a crater
of its own making.
And so what shall we say?
‘Goodbye’ seems too trite.
‘Farewell’ is too polite.
And ‘so long’ has become
‘too long.’
Perhaps we shouldn’t say
anything.
And kiss.
© Alfred W. Smith Jr. 2015
Recommended reading on WriteHere: Autumn Falls – http://wh.tl/151027-2
Source: Autumn Falls
Recommended reading on WriteHere: Winter Dreams – http://wh.tl/151020-1
Source: Winter Dreams
I’ll kiss you
in secret,
in shadow,
on
moonless, starless
nights,
feel the heat
of fevered lips
wipe away the
scarlet shade,
taste the
honeyed, sugary
cluster of
your tongue,
and
twirl my soul
into you,
lost in
Love’s
light
© Alfred W. Smith Jr. 2015
A sad, soggy,
cloudy night
marked the day
of your departure.
Your leaving
like a kiss my skin
was too numb
to feel.
We placed the lanterns
around the boat
and tied them
as the elders taught us.
Your folded hands
were clasped over the
black orchid
and the
white rose,
a gift for
the grizzled Gate-man
and
his loving wife.
With a gentle push
and a soft splash of
water against wood,
we set you adrift.
The lanterns danced
on the ripples,
as you once danced
with me.
And we watched you
slip into the current’s
waiting hand.
The lanterns
soon stopped their dance
and followed,
bright and solemn,
like young novices in white
bathed in the glow of
a temple’s sacred fire,
their simulated shades of sunlight
flashing
on the thick, twisty ribbon
of ebon water.
Even the night wood ceased
its chattering to give you
a moment of
silent, solitary honor.
And we, left on the banks,
your lovers and friends,
enemies and strangers,
marked how you changed
our lives
forever.
And as the sailing bier
rounded the riverbend,
and you were
forever lost
to sight,
With a gentle shower
the sky cried our tears for us.
And in the rain,
the lanterns’ lights
hissed and faded, extinguished now,
like you,
unable to be renewed,
And the light
came back to us
and took shelter
in our hearts, and warmed them
once again
with thoughts and memories
of you, through the years,
shining bright,
alone
against a
starry sky,
like a
lantern
set on a
high and windy
hill.
© Alfred W. Smith Jr. 2015
The pen
in the
hands
of the
old man
Hands
light and spotted
as
long-forgotten
ancient scrolls
on a
dusty shelf
Hands
that will soon
crumble to pieces
in
time’s cruel crucible
He takes
his thoughts
and
writes them down
They are as
stones
in the path
to mark his life
and its
passing
His pages
become much like
his crumbling
hands,
long-forgotten
until
A curious mind
plucks his thoughts
like ripe berries
from the dusty
shelf.
© Alfred W. Smith Jr. 2015
Beyond Panic 