Hemel Hempstead    1969 -   
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 theraputic healing.
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

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.
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 theraputic healing.
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

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.
  Reposted by Chris Smith Dark Poet Soul  ·  3 days ago
r
r
4 days ago      3 days ago

A book,
just pages
on leaves, whitened-
river washed,
dried then wettened again;
tears of words
torn from a heart-
his then mine, and mine again.

A book
of poems, written verse,
la poema-
the saddest lines of all,
but not all, no,
not all; not always.

Pages of Odes;
oh, the odes
to fruit,
to wine
and song
of the sea and mermaids;
the pages sing his songs.

A book
of heights
and stone,
he took us there-
a shovel in the sand;
of monuments
and ships
of drunken men and love
once loved,
and loved again.

Words
on silken thighs,
breasts
and a red dress-
on a dark night
the stars and moon did shine.

A garden-
he planted a spade
into our hearts;
his dog,
it died
simply
loved too much-
Ai.

A book,
just a book
of pages,
of poems
by my bed-
dog-eared,
much read and loved;
his words ending
the saddest lines of all.

r ~ 8/15/14

\¥/\
|    Neruda
/ \

Sensually surrenders to me
Utter submission set free
Bonded to my will
Made to satisfy my thrill
In dominance I must live
Satisfaction she will give
Slave to my carnal desire
Innocent to my burning fire
Obey the punishment above
Naked for our darkest love

Copyright Chris Smith 2013
  Reposted by Chris Smith Dark Poet Soul  ·  Aug 10
Angela
Aug 1, 2011

I sometimes speak in riddles
a little tit for tat
A simple exchange of random thoughts
that flow to a rhythm all it's own
Sometimes it comes in metaphors
sometimes it clear as a bell
But, always it is straight from the heart
Always it's cleansing to the soul
I can share my wishes and my ever changing dreams
I can expose my deeps fears and my sneakiest of schemes
I love the world of poetry
It's the only place I call home
For even when I sit here by myself
Somehow I am never alone.................

  Reposted by Chris Smith Dark Poet Soul  ·  Aug 9
Weeping willow

Among the shadows
My face turns

Darker side
became inside out
Setting my emotions
into a whirl

Where faceless memories
look back over childhood days
Seeing only hollow
eyes
In the distant
haze

Depression walked
beside my childhood
life

Only seen in the shadows

Each step
I walked

In the outline of my small face
Shadows lurked
in the crevices
of
every space

My heart was overwhelmed
by youth

As I grew
Becoming a rebel
Building walls no one
could penetrate
As love was on the outside
looking in

My parents had no clue
how to reach in

Only war
was brewing inside
I never realized all the things
I hid from view

Troubles screamed
in my mind

The only person
I was fighting

Was on the inside

Just me
and my shadows
Struggling to understand
This changing going on
inside of me

The war of youth

Being a rebel
Was my wall
Built so tightly
around me

No love could
enter
To help me see
the darkness that surrounded
me.
;\
By Weeping willow
(c)2014

Teenage years were a struggle,it's only now since I'm older
I understand the war inside
of me
I was in a constant rage as shadows and depression filled my days,so drugs took life and war was engaged ;\ Confusing life as I have never found my rightful path.
Chris Smith Dark Poet Soul
Chris Smith Dark Poet Soul
Aug 6      Aug 6

They said "let's have a war"
Blame it on the other side
People will blame them more
Their real purpose they'll hide

While they keep watching rockets
Blasting at the opposite soil
They will secretly line their pockets
By stealing all of the oil

But they just never will learn
Because there are too many that cry
Watching as the children burn
When it is only innocents that die

Copyright Chris Smith 2014
#war  
  Reposted by Chris Smith Dark Poet Soul  ·  Aug 2
Paddy Martin
Jan 4, 2011

Through the shattered pane,
of a broken window,
I look out and see a fragment,
of a day that was, but is torn.

A flower growing without a name,
in the ever shifting garden,
of my minds vague mirage,
it's petals crumbling into dust.

The image of what was,
now drifting in the lake of time,
the ripples distorting it's features,
as it disappears beneath a lily pad.

Clouds racing across a blue sky,
searching in vain for the sunset,
weeping for that which they have not found,
As I retreat to hide within the spiders web

4th January 2011

We are dancing on the Rings of Saturn
Riding high on a glistening Comet
Then I reach up to gather Stardust
And sprinkle it on your Astral golden hair

Hold your hand as we are crossing Moonbeams
On our way to bask in the heat of a White Sun
Dining at the restaurant in the Milky Way
Then we enjoy a kiss under the Asteroid Belt

Your finger points up at the Shooting Stars
Your eyes shine brighter than any Nova Light
And with the magic in all of Cosmic Space
I want to stay here with you, my love, in our little World

Copyright Chris Smith 2009
#love   #cosmic  
 
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