Robert James Smith
Biography of Robert James Smith
Teacher, writer, business owner and musician originally from New York, now living in California and Denmark. Website with poetry and other works is:
Robert James Smith Poems
I Stole This Poem
I stole this poem, yes I did It isn't mine to publish But every word I write myself On paper reads like rubbish.
O widow! What is it you mourn? Is it the man? Or labor borne? The loss of love? Or yea the past? Perhaps that beauty cannot last?
This Old Man
This old man named Balco He lived down the stair With old fashioned trousers And thinning white hair
silent stoic strong as can be why would he need a friend like me?
when i lay me down to sleep i see her face appear and then within the dream i ask implore and beg her please don't come again
The Hidden Room
there's a place in my heart only you know where no one else will ever go. that no one else could ever find. an attic deep within my mind
Who Are You?
who are you without a name without a face without a voice
can i tell you a secret? i'm not supposed to tell a secret all about you that pertains to me as well
they say a song cannot be true without an ear to hear therefore courage cannot stand
her pen met the paper a dot, jot, a tittle a letter a word then a phrase then a verse
The World War
raging roaring rolling waves white knuckles rise above the shelf crash upon the palisades the ocean fights the land herself
A tree in my garden I've loved all my life I sun it by day and I water at night
Can we still talk of love after so many years? Can we still call it love after so many tears?
yonder on the farther chair
upon the porch nearby the stair
a winged beauty feathers fair
was looking at me sitting there
startled by this morning treat
he sang a song to bless and greet
the sunshine and the break of day
i slowed so he'd not fly away