John C. Smith Poems

I lie; left for dead.
The Sun is on my face.
All sound of battle gone.
I hear a bird singing.
...

Hear the wind in the shadows?
Yes my love.
Yes my love.
The wind is me.
...

Inside my borrowed brain
and misshapen torso;
with this borrowed heart
soaked in tears
...

Stone buildings around a courtyard.
Cobblestones beneath my feet.
Black studded oaken doorways,
flickering torches; window grilles.
...

Inside the darkening cave,
by the light of the new, slowly dying Sun
the Portal opened.
It's brightness filling the cave;
...

Sitting ghostlike in my bedroom;
hearing birdsong in the night.
Cigarette ember glowing brightly
as I suck the poison in.
...

Hannah disappeared.
It said in her note
she didn't want to die in the cold.
It always snowed
...

We were never close.
Never friends.
But here we are
sitting like bookends
...