Mike Smith

Mike Smith Poems

Walked across a pretty flower, thought I'd hold it in my hand
So I knelt down as to grab it, but the flower turned to sand
Tried to carve it as a castle, walls and towers, gates and moat
But the tide washed it away, I had to chase it down by boat

The greater pain than the one you feel
Is the one you see in the ones you love
The one you can't make go away
Cannot ease or take on as your own

A man once told me 'Son, '
'Listen, God is God is God'
And in response I queried him
'So all of them are fraud? '

In the back of the mind
In the front of the thoughts
He is there; Always
To some degree

When the sun goes down
In the capital town
Some strange creatures lurk among shadows
One sits and he waits

Conflicted thoughts and wearied eyes
They walk amongst the fallen
Their faded dreams have sunk like stones
Their service now forgotten

Child soldier with his gun
Blood stained fingers, half my size
Pulls the trigger
Thunder, smoke

Very rarely is it indeed
That anyone amongst us learns incredible truths
Opens unseen windows into the essence of their being
Grows into a more remarkable form of their prior self

I consider it likely against my best interests to wonder on
And often times I make a concerted effort to keep it far from the front of my mind
But none of us has much control over which way our minds might wander
And when the night is long

I've read all of oogie's adventures
And my smile could not be immense-er
As far as Bri goes
Let him pick at his toes

A single sliver of sunshine bends its way around the side of my curtain
Bringing morning light to my cold, quiet bedroom
The rays give life to the smoke surrounding me
Inciting a dance from the curls and rings

Some days for some reasons
I think in some rhymes
And it comes and it goes
or it lasts for long times

Mine, extract, burn, destroy
Sell it, ship it, troops deploy
Profit endless, pure black gold
A billion barrels daily sold

I guess I'm not sure
What I really want out of it
This journey through life
Yes I'd like to have happiness

'This is a dream.'
'How is this a dream? '
'Last night I dreamt that I was in a castle looking out at the stars from a tower. Then a prince gave me a magic wand.'
This was somewhat hard to believe even for me. We weren't technically in a castle or a tower, but we were at Castle Rock standing atop a lookout some hundred and fifty feet above the river. The stars (and their reflections off the water) had kept us silent since we had finished climbing the stairs. In those quiet moments I had finished whittling some kind of pointer, maybe ten inches in length. There was nothing at all special about it. I didn't even know it was a wand when I was making it. I was simply keeping my hands busy, maybe trying to mask a bit of nervousness at meeting up with this girl. Once I'd finished I offered it to her. Now I am not nearly a prince. I'm a peasant at best. But in a world where lookouts are towers and parks are castles and sticks are wands... I suppose perhaps I could be confused for one briefly. The story added up.

What is a wish aside from an empty request you trick yourself into thinking could be possible
And what is luck other than some fanciful belief in a non-existent outside force
When you've decided to toss out ancient superstition and replace it with evidence and logic
How can you still long to see shooting stars blaze across the night sky

Three days I've been roofing in sun
I've done battle with sunburn- it won
The hue of my skin
Is lobster-akin

I know people
Well educated and esteemed
Who are so staunchly anti-racist

There've been times in my life
Wretched times
In which I caused people
The ones closest to me

The dinner was an awkward one. Once we were all seated there was a strange silence hanging over the group. The silence wasn't something entirely rare. For most of our time down here the days had been uneventful; one very much the same as the next. Today however was not so. Yet still nobody seemed able to bring up a conversation. For a time, one of the longest sentences spoken was simply, 'Could you pass the carrots please? '
I was grateful. I used the time to collect my thoughts. Come up with a usable version of the story detailing the events that had taken place on my voyage outside the safe-house. By the time I'd finished eating and helped Emily to get cleaned up I felt mostly confident that I'd shored up any plot holes that might arise from leaving out some of the more gruesome aspects of my adventure.
Finally there came a time that the kids were convinced to go along and play while the adults talked. They were usually pretty good about this, and typically didn't need any convincing, but there was a feeling in the air, a heaviness, that even they had caught on to. Something important was happening or had happened, and they could sense it. As such, they were reluctant to leave us to ourselves. A promise from Becca to read two stories tonight instead of one was finally enough to make them comply.
Barry broke the ice, 'So, Ian, tell us what happened already. I can't take any more suspense.'

The Best Poem Of Mike Smith

Out Of Reach

Walked across a pretty flower, thought I'd hold it in my hand
So I knelt down as to grab it, but the flower turned to sand
Tried to carve it as a castle, walls and towers, gates and moat
But the tide washed it away, I had to chase it down by boat
So I dove below the tide, to the bottom of the sea
To restore my pretty castle, try to quell its tragedy
But the castle was no more, and in its place a wooden chest
So I swam back to shore, inside I found a golden nest
Filled with golden little eggs, and so I bought a golden cage
With a golden little perch, just like a golden birdy stage
Though the eggs they never hatched, no they burst into a flame
And although there were no ashes, all the smoke I did contain
In a sky light blue balloon, but I think I'll save my string
Can't try to tie the flower down. Balloon. Flower. Same thing

Mike Smith Comments

Souren Mondal 16 February 2016

Mike, for me, is an outstanding, brilliant, and very, very talented poet.. Amongst his nine poems published until now at PH, I cannot really speak about his craft in detail, but all I can say is that if you read his poems they will leave an IMPACT upon you.. His imagination is brilliant, and he is innovative and a wonderful poet... Give him a read, for all my money, you won't be disappointed! !

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