Hemel Hempstead    1964 -    
Poet and short story writer. My short stories are mainly horror.
I was attacked in 1997 and my left leg badly burnt which led me to begin writing poetry as a means of therapeutic healing.
I also have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.
I am the last person who admits if I am any good, I just write and to me it is the readers who enjoy what I do that make it worth while.
Thank you for all those who come to read my efforts and with so many excellent poets here it makes it all worth while.

Chris

I have also been experimenting with YouTube from 2014. I have a handful of poems on there. Most Popular seems to be Goldfish Dreams (Chris Smith is the name on there but search for Goldfish Dreams and I'm easier to find).

www.facebook.com/welshpoetcs2.

I am also on Twitter as welshpoetcs and on Tumblr as Darkpoetsoul.

I have been using Hello Poetry since 2009.
I also use www.apolloblessed.ning.com.

If you would like a collaboration poem I'm quite happy.
Poet and short story writer. My short stories are mainly horror.
I was attacked in 1997 and my left leg badly burnt which led me to begin writing poetry as a means of therapeutic healing.
I also have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.
I am the last person who admits if I am any good, I just write and to me it is the readers who enjoy what I do that make it worth while.
Thank you for all those who come to read my efforts and with so many excellent poets here it makes it all worth while.

Chris

I have also been experimenting with YouTube from 2014. I have a handful of poems on there. Most Popular seems to be Goldfish Dreams (Chris Smith is the name on there but search for Goldfish Dreams and I'm easier to find).

www.facebook.com/welshpoetcs2.

I am also on Twitter as welshpoetcs and on Tumblr as Darkpoetsoul.

I have been using Hello Poetry since 2009.
I also use www.apolloblessed.ning.com.

If you would like a collaboration poem I'm quite happy.

Scream, for love traps you
In the embrace of barbed wire
Slicing your heart wide open
With blunt, rusted razor blades

So bleed the scarlet icicles
As your soul begins to die
Dark longing surrounds you
Loneliness comes crawling

Does your heart now shatter?
Where no one dares to look
To see blistered tears Etched
On a face masked with fear

But if only you remove your mask
Mayhap the Sun may kiss it
So roses without thorns may grow
Then love could have no pain

Copyright © Chris Smith 2014
#gothic  

Lazy dreams of far away night
Amorous embraces by candle light
Tango desires of bodies of two
For I am nothing without you

Memories fade of the past
We believed it would last
But now, what can I do
For I am nothing without you

Lovers come and lovers go
You're the one I got to know
All the good times we went through
Now I am nothing without you

Copyright © Chris Smith 2015

She is crying inside
Where nothing is right
They hurt her too much
She's forgotten how to fight

Everyone has someone
Someone they can hold
Share with her their troubles
She's young and feeling old

Always seems to be strong
She handles it in style
But she's another lost soul
Forgotten with a hidden smile

Copyright © Chris Smith 2013

A crushed lies on virgin snow
Broken petals, red like blood
She falls defeated, a lost glow
Grasping thorns that cut her skin

Her heart, beats hurt and tattered
Only a white robe from the cold
No love, for it never mattered
Her body now a victim to the chill

Feeling rejected and cast aside
Bitter feelings are now her curse
Like the rose, she feels dead inside
Uncaring of the cruel touch of Winter

No one could mend her ruined heart
No one could ever warm this lost soul
She will forever feel she was torn apart
For the uncaring one who did her wrong

Copyright © Chris Smith 2006

What can I read her
What can I read her
on a Sunday Morning

What can I do that will
somehow reach her
on a Sunday Morning

I’ll read her the news of
The Indian Wars

Full of criss-cavalry, blood
& gore

Stories to tame & charm
& more

On a Sunday Morning
~~~

Some wild fires
Searchout
a dry quiet kiss on leaving
~~~

Like our ancestors
The Indians
We share a fear of sex
excessive lamentation for the dead
& an abiding interest in dreams & visions

I saw the diamond birds
Flying in the midnight clouds
Before falling into crystal seas
Swallowed up by demon waters

But it's all just pretending
Of having to face reality
Standing alone with insecurity
Slapped in the face by indecision

I'm begging you, I'm on my knees
My lady, don't take your love away

Once again the dragons came
Breathing fire across distant lands
Looking for somewhere to belong
A creature that time long forgot

It's just another metaphor of me
Once again I'm lost in myself
A broken mirror image, cracked
I'm nothing if I'm without you

I'm begging you, I'm on my knees
My lady, don't take your love away

Copyright © Chris Smith 2013
www.facebook.com/welshpoetcs2.

I came to find you rested
Upon some fabled shore
My ballerina toes gracing
Your ivory piano keys
Can I dance your melody
Without messing up once?

The wind slowly encased
Our bodies with sand
Forever entwined
But still cursed
To die together
I'd rather live without you

One day after eons have past
We will be resurrected
By archeologists
Who will think we are deities
And they shall compare us
To the ghosts of Pompeii

I wonder now if I should have come
To meet you on the beach that day
But something inside of me knew
That before I even walked towards you
Before I even spoke your name
That you'd ruin me
And I came
Anyway

#love   #death   #loss   #pompeii   #ghosts  
 
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