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 therapeutic 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

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.
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 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.
  Reposted by Chris Smith Dark Poet Soul  ·  1 day ago
wolf spirit aka quinfinn

tears
are
the watercolors
of our lives,
painted
with
realism.

Chris Smith Dark Poet Soul
Chris Smith Dark Poet Soul
1 day ago      1 day ago

There once was a mime
Who committed a crime
He spoke just one time

But people out for a walk
They heard him talk
Down by the corn stalk

Then the mayor said
We will make him dead
Off with his head

He ran as fast as he could
The mime knew he would
Be killed if he should

He came across a fairy
Her name was Little Mary
She smelt of strawberry

Silently, he started to cry
The fairy wondered why
People wanted him to die

She took his hand
But he could understand
It was time for another land

The mime was never found
For he lives under the ground
Where he never makes a sound

Copyright Chris Smith 2014
#sad   #rhyme  
  Reposted by Chris Smith Dark Poet Soul  ·  4 days ago
John Patrick Robbins Aka Gonzo

Old words empty page so distant we were.
Myths of logic the clouds loomed heavy I bask in the rejection as my flames have burnt themselves out I fear.

No chapter written, the end yet a scratch .
We spoke in riddles only to forget the reason now I find less bullshit in are lies so long I have forgotten are truths.

Dark scenes no light from this shutter so does escape the day burdens of are nights cast stones to a soon to be outgoing tide .
My words the ghost haunted only in shadows sometimes we must bury are dreams only to see nightmares through.

No pain me breath in a faithless  embrace .
I no need for the stories so I will simply close the book.
Tomorrows a promise to the few and a reprise of extinction of my thoughts tonight.
Hate what you will never grasp I simply have grown to ignore it all the same .

A demented thought sometimes beats a million well intended lies.
Place your bets when the smoke clears I'll be there a little less left of the fool you once thought to know.

In the wreckage we stood in the moonlight now shadows we've become chase the rats away from the bones .
To many times I have chosen to exist a shell of the canvas can you still recognize what I no longer see myself?

We can kill in passion and thrive only within lust.
We can exist for today only to yearn for a image of what was never are past.

It will all have to fade sometime my dear .
Maybe we could ignore this but it's just not me to play it safe.


And when you find the edge will you push past or simply turn around?
Lit cigarettes linger as once did I there is always a part that should never be taken away .

In the moment we lingered as children afraid of the unknown .
then it was  s nothing more of you as always there was far less of me . .
Fuck the past it only serves a crutch to collect dust with bitter thoughts and run down as this half vacant room.

And in the silence we knew the answers to questions we never cared to ask.

The page is dry .

#life   #pain   #sadness   #loss   #regrets   #vices   #existance  
  Reposted by Chris Smith Dark Poet Soul  ·  7 days ago
Jaye Tomas

The sky is winterfrosted and sharp
and as you clatter down the stone steps
something shimmering and white pulls your eyes and
in the dusk she stands
she smiles
a smile of promise and the hunger of a thousand arctic nights and of
love
of a kind
but you are hard and helpless all at once and somehow get through your maze of doors
the keys tossed in a tiny clash of metal
forgotten
and the bed takes the collision in a bluish white glow of a blizzard
and the stars are cold in her eyes and they reflect the stars diamond bright against your back
and you are pierced with them
between them
until the light grows warm
stills
and the sheets are empty
cooled flat by the press of unearthly flesh
and you travel the streets with no desire for the sparkling eyes
or the full
too full
rosy cheeks pouting at you
your stuttering heart and soul are given over to the perfection of deathless ice forming on violet smudged lips
the sheen of cold marble thighs
and you smile to yourself
and the people who pass you recoil at your grin
recover and shake off their brief vision of you astride a pale horse
wearing a crown of horn  
moonblinded and mighty
and you throw your arms open to the north winds and laugh
for they are shrieking
calling you by name
and you stand panting and reckless and waiting
under the winter sky
gazing up into the heart of the storm
your blood freezing in anticipation
into crystals for you to lay at her feet…..


©jayetomas2014

  Reposted by Chris Smith Dark Poet Soul  ·  Oct 13
Jennifer Humphrey
Jennifer Humphrey
Oct 13      Oct 13

A young woman closing in on independence
Like it is a dreadful thing
Other young women
Excited, mesmerized, elated by the sense of freedom
She can taste the separation like food

Sadness permeates the flesh of youth
Spreads into the arteries of life
Almost a feeling of suffocation ensues
Others happiness caresses the flesh
Spreads into the arteries singing with fire
Unable to contain the elation!

Clouds form all around as separation is coming
A time of exploration and inhibitions weigh heavily
Loneliness, isolation, and unbearable anxiety overwhelm the brain
Happiness, exaltment, and a sense of power explode inside the other

The girl enjoyed life so much until now
Parents are much older than most
Fear encases the once boisterous heart
Everywhere talk of blossoming, answering to no one
Boundaries erased, getting older, wiser, excites

Dark thoughts of being alone fill her with anguish
Parents dying before she begins to live plays on her psyche
Children not knowing their grandparents, No! Turn back time
Please she cries!
The other cares not of these things only to get out
Into the world of money, jobs, romance, parties
Parents being a chore now just having to appease them
Loving them but finally FREEDOM!!!

One leaves home feeling weight of life crushing dreams
The other so happy to get away from meddling, curfews, and eager to carve her own mark.

Which will live the better life?
Who will be happy?
Free?
Love and be loved?
Will despair turn to death or endless fulfillment?
Will elation turn to destruction and loneliness?

Do you know which is a young woman you know?

Written by:  Jennifer Humphrey  10/12/2014 copyright 2014

Dedicated to my daughter.
Chris Smith Dark Poet Soul
Chris Smith Dark Poet Soul
Oct 11      Oct 11

I need you
But I'm ugly inside
To forget my scars
Too much I've tried

I want you
But I'm ugly inside
The things I've done
Those things I hide

I desire you
But I'm ugly inside
Too many secrets
All the times I've lied

I see your beauty
But I'm ugly inside
Too scared to speak
Swallowing my pride

I watch you walk away
But I'm ugly inside
You'll never see my tears
All those times I've cried


Copyright Chris  Smith 2014

#pain  
  Reposted by Chris Smith Dark Poet Soul  ·  Oct 7
Maria
Maria
Oct 7

Walked out to the end of the point
Where the pier ended and the water began
Looked back…into the darkness….for you
But only the wind streamed though the willow
And her thin branches were not your arms.

Out on the water floated an image...  
I immediately connected with her
To the longing in her eyes
The braided necklace that dropped to her waist
And her black hair that hung from the night sky.

Had I cried my senses away into madness?
Had the wine weakened my reason?
A rippling of water was heard to my left
Looked over my shoulder, to the banks of the lake
And it was you... you….in a faint tracing in the air.

Had I walked to the wrong end of the point?
Was there ever a point?
The pier and the water transformed into one
I stepped out and into the wind
Joined your hand
And the "point" was understood.

Where is your point?
Your one?
 
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