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.

What is twinkling?
On the forest lake
Where is it from?
What doth it make?
The fool that I am
An idiot I are
It is the night sky
From the morning star

Copyright © Chris Smith 2013

There was a smiling man
Who would cry inside
So no one saw his sadness
Because he always said hello

He seemed a cheerful soul
Looked happy in his way
But his tears he'd hide
Behind a secret mask

He saw too much pain
Fought with people who died
Buried his best friend
From that war he heard them

They said we're always here
Walking there besides you
Even though you cry for us
Please remember us and smile

Copyright © Chris Smith 2014

Undress my lover, fair
Naked, standing there
Destiny of desire for you
Ready for what we will do
Every touch is ecstasy
Sensually setting free
Sexual need, explored tonight
Endless lust until day light
Darling, I love you undressed

Copyright © Chris Smith 2016

Jump into the pool of reflection
In pure water of our collection
Many find the path to the light

Master of words with open sight
Of many souls he will belong
Reaching out and being strong
Ready to give all that he can
Incredible and wonderous man
Sheltering us with words to share
Open your minds and find him there
Never forgotten and a hero to all

Copyright © Chris Smith 2011

Syncronized we spin
ignited lips heat within
painting sky with brilliant burn
brighter brighter as we turn

You speak to me
through time and light
words of love
shine through the night,
overtures and raptures flow
love submits to comets glow.

Comet ride, painting high
vibrations spun light the sky
lips meet quazar lip and ride,
igniting fire held inside.
Spherical orbs aline and spin
fireworks ignite, begin.

Lips meet lips, sear comet's fire
burning core melts in desire
Vibrations spin galatic bliss,
immobilized in cosmic kiss.

Take me through the darkest night
pierce the sky with blinding light
kiss and touch as lovers do,
spiral, arc our dance for two.

Cosmic submission
loves astrol fire
sings to the music of
Nova's desire

Stellar star show
thrown off its axis
comic collision,
enchantment climaxes.

Canvas corridors
of cobwebbed circuses
Constantly choke my core.

For canvas corridors
Contain colored carcasses,
Clowns to do the chore.

Yes your Honour
I did the deed
Broke the hearts
Caused the tears
Murdered the feelings
Left them to die

Squandered this life
Stole the idle days
Wasted all the moments
Leaving it to rot
Tortured emotions
So they could scream

Yes your Honour
I await my sentence
Punishment in full
For all of my misdeeds
So lock me away
I am guilty of being me

Copyright © Chris Smith 2012
 
To comment on this poem, please log in or create a free account
Log in or register to comment