Lindsay Smith Poems
|4.||Where Is Your Place?||8/2/2012|
|10.||Wall Street Blues||7/30/2012|
|12.||Opulent Riddles For The Fairies||7/30/2012|
|13.||Landscape & A Girl||8/2/2012|
|14.||The Don & 951||8/2/2012|
|17.||Accordian In The Metro||8/2/2012|
|19.||To My Grand Daughter||8/2/2012|
We stumbled often on the stubble from sunrise until dusk
grabbing fescue sheaves under each arm
standing back to the wind
to thrust the stalk butts into the earth
six, eight, ten, even twelve together
to dry out for a few days.
Periodically we raised our heads
looking out for the farm truck
& Auntie May with the stacks of
buttered scones, tomato sandwiches
mugs of hot tea with many repeats
& as many spoonfuls of honey as you like
ducking off thru the fence afterward
for a leak or a bog.
Then long back breaking days
Wall Street Blues
Jukebox on the wall play us the number one the hit song,
‘The American Eagle has no brains it flies into walls.'
Sarah the most mysterious person he hardly knew
except for her outrageously wacky hat said,
‘this head automatically turns off any thing in bad taste.'
Then when she had nailed everyone's rapt attention
announced in that stentorious voice,
‘you can tell people about witchcraft but you can't lead them to it.'