Smit - Hello Poetry

And now here is my secret, a very simple secret: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eyes.

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Apr 9, 2018

Apr 9, 2018 at 4:06 PM UTC

Secret

And now here is my secret, a very simple secret: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eyes.

6

I possess no soul I possess no mind I am the wanderer Of the dead forest I am the black bird Who sits on the highest branch Of the empty tree In the spring I am the dead drunk On the midtown subway pavement That you cringe at I breathe while the earth sighs I sleep while the vultures cry I walk around this dark town Slow like an elephant As you stare me with pity I stare at you like a hawk I carry a universe with me I live your worst nightmare I have a thorn That carves devil’s stories On my skin every second I scream every night My voice screeching like an eagle’s But all you can hear is a whimper My body trembles My eyes are red with blood Sweat drips from every Inch of my skin As I stand here In front of you Telling you this I have lived through hell But let the death be sweet 13.32 3.28.18

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Apr 5, 2018

Apr 5, 2018 at 4:55 PM UTC

Death Be Sweet

I possess no soul I possess no mind I am the wanderer Of the dead forest I am the black bird Who sits on the highest branch Of the empty tree In the spring I am the dead drunk On the midtown subway pavement That you cringe at I breathe while the earth sighs I sleep while the vultures cry I walk around this dark town Slow like an elephant As you stare me with pity I stare at you like a hawk I carry a universe with me I live your worst nightmare I have a thorn That carves devil’s stories On my skin every second I scream every night My voice screeching like an eagle’s But all you can hear is a whimper My body trembles My eyes are red with blood Sweat drips from every Inch of my skin As I stand here In front of you Telling you this I have lived through hell But let the death be sweet 13.32 3.28.18

36

Her halos are created in silence By his dark secrets and his dark passions And in his chaos of thunder storms She stands still Like a fallen autumn leaf In the cold waves and gusts of winds. 15.43 02.11.17

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Feb 28, 2018

Feb 28, 2018 at 12:57 PM UTC

Halos

Her halos are created in silence By his dark secrets and his dark passions And in his chaos of thunder storms She stands still Like a fallen autumn leaf In the cold waves and gusts of winds. 15.43 02.11.17

8

They say that the time never stops But didn’t they tell you that I can even stop drops? It’s me, the photograph, who’ll hold you Till the time it gets better, even if the time flew People say that I’m just a copy, just an ‘it’ But I’m capable of holding moments, making everything lit I’ll make you remember those spring birds I’ll make you cherish flowers of what you’ve heard I’ll make you cry by those gestures so small I’ll make you wonder by those abstracts you call And I’ll make you feel a thing called love And a thing called memory And a thing called home Cause it’s me, the photograph, who’ll hold you Till the time it gets better, even if the time flew 18 Jan. 17 21:57

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Feb 14, 2018

Feb 14, 2018 at 2:43 PM UTC

The Photograph

They say that the time never stops But didn’t they tell you that I can even stop drops? It’s me, the photograph, who’ll hold you Till the time it gets better, even if the time flew People say that I’m just a copy, just an ‘it’ But I’m capable of holding moments, making everything lit I’ll make you remember those spring birds I’ll make you cherish flowers of what you’ve heard I’ll make you cry by those gestures so small I’ll make you wonder by those abstracts you call And I’ll make you feel a thing called love And a thing called memory And a thing called home Cause it’s me, the photograph, who’ll hold you Till the time it gets better, even if the time flew 18 Jan. 17 21:57

17

“The sad thing is,” she said, “the moment you start to miss someone, it means they’re already gone.”

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Jun 17, 2017

Jun 17, 2017 at 1:55 AM UTC

The Sad Thing

“The sad thing is,” she said, “the moment you start to miss someone, it means they’re already gone.”

3

I am, but a lover I yearn, like a craver I don’t know what is love I stare silently, like a dove I write his inks on paper I pour gay in words, like a dreamer Like a cheater, I hide within letters I touch souls, softly like feathers I’m quite like a fire, a loner I grieve rainbows, like a wanderer I stare like a hawk From far away, at him, I gawk I’m a poet, nothing but a liar Cause I am, but a lover 13 November 2017

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Mar 15, 2017

Mar 15, 2017 at 2:45 AM UTC

I am, But a Lover

I am, but a lover I yearn, like a craver I don’t know what is love I stare silently, like a dove I write his inks on paper I pour gay in words, like a dreamer Like a cheater, I hide within letters I touch souls, softly like feathers I’m quite like a fire, a loner I grieve rainbows, like a wanderer I stare like a hawk From far away, at him, I gawk I’m a poet, nothing but a liar Cause I am, but a lover 13 November 2017

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There Are Poems Inside Of You That Paper Can't Handle

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Mar 12, 2017

Mar 12, 2017 at 1:31 PM UTC

Poems Inside You