carol-smith - Hello Poetry

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May 22, 2017

May 22, 2017 at 11:35 AM UTC

The bell rings as I open the door. Red carpet covers the floor, Mr Jones smiles, and sits in his nook So many books Do not know where to look. Sections for writers and poets. Shelves full of biographies and quotes. Paper or hard backs, what a choice. Writers like Tolkien and James Joyce. Fact or fiction, epics and short stories. Dragons and fairies, and books from the forties. Mr Jones takes my money, and passes me my book. Now rushing home to have a look. Comfy chair, and a hot chocolate. Ready to delve into the world of the Hobbit.

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May 14, 2017

May 14, 2017 at 6:03 AM UTC

carol-smith

Book Shop, and Mr Jones

The bell rings as I open the door. Red carpet covers the floor, Mr Jones smiles, and sits in his nook So many books Do not know where to look. Sections for writers and poets. Shelves full of biographies and quotes. Paper or hard backs, what a choice. Writers like Tolkien and James Joyce. Fact or fiction, epics and short stories. Dragons and fairies, and books from the forties. Mr Jones takes my money, and passes me my book. Now rushing home to have a look. Comfy chair, and a hot chocolate. Ready to delve into the world of the Hobbit.

15

The quill was poised to write. Like a cobra ready to strike. Ink on the vellum. Thick like venom. The pen held steady, to write words that are adored. Words that pierce like a sword. The ink does not fade. Like blood on the blade. Now we have a word processor. With its own spell checker. But nothing beats the paper and pen. Like the cobra and sword, leaving marks now and again.

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May 7, 2017

May 7, 2017 at 11:30 AM UTC

carol-smith

Tools of the trade

The quill was poised to write. Like a cobra ready to strike. Ink on the vellum. Thick like venom. The pen held steady, to write words that are adored. Words that pierce like a sword. The ink does not fade. Like blood on the blade. Now we have a word processor. With its own spell checker. But nothing beats the paper and pen. Like the cobra and sword, leaving marks now and again.

12

Standing at the edge of the beach Seagulls crying, waves singing Toes sinking into warm sand Your footsteps leading away from me, leaving imprints Standing at the edge of the forest Wind whistling through the branches Feet covered in damp cold leaves Your footsteps leaving, kicking leaves and breaking branches Standing at the edge of my path Sad songs coming through the door Feet covered in those old comfort slippers Your footsteps leading away from the path and my heart And me now.... Standing and watching you walk away Left with memories, songs and heartbreak

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May 1, 2017

May 1, 2017 at 11:01 AM UTC

carol-smith

Leaving

Standing at the edge of the beach Seagulls crying, waves singing Toes sinking into warm sand Your footsteps leading away from me, leaving imprints Standing at the edge of the forest Wind whistling through the branches Feet covered in damp cold leaves Your footsteps leaving, kicking leaves and breaking branches Standing at the edge of my path Sad songs coming through the door Feet covered in those old comfort slippers Your footsteps leading away from the path and my heart And me now.... Standing and watching you walk away Left with memories, songs and heartbreak

15

I look out again and there he is Is he waiting for that kiss He has grown so tall and not bare at all Limbs covered in colour purple browns and reds I watch him from my bed The sun explodes through the leaves The moss grows like sleeves The robin sits there so proud And the blue **** sing so loud He provides shelter and food for those birds While the cat looks up and purred I watch amazed of how he has changed From winter to spring, limbs and leaves arranged I still want him for my beau Perhaps one day... " you never know"

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Apr 26, 2017

Apr 26, 2017 at 3:09 PM UTC

carol-smith

Love Nature II

I look out again and there he is Is he waiting for that kiss He has grown so tall and not bare at all Limbs covered in colour purple browns and reds I watch him from my bed The sun explodes through the leaves The moss grows like sleeves The robin sits there so proud And the blue **** sing so loud He provides shelter and food for those birds While the cat looks up and purred I watch amazed of how he has changed From winter to spring, limbs and leaves arranged I still want him for my beau Perhaps one day... " you never know"

16

Are lovers poets? Or Poets, lovers Are Drunks poets? Or Poets, drunk. We are lovers and poets, And I will drink with you soon. There lays my epitaph. Drunk, lover, and poet.

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Apr 26, 2017

Apr 26, 2017 at 2:14 PM UTC

carol-smith

Poets and Lovers

Are lovers poets? Or Poets, lovers Are Drunks poets? Or Poets, drunk. We are lovers and poets, And I will drink with you soon. There lays my epitaph. Drunk, lover, and poet.

10

Ripe to the touch, ready to be plucked. Peeling off the layers. Pink, moist and fresh. Exposing the flesh. Aromas fill your mind. Gentle soft fingers caress the skin. The pleasures begin. Tasting the fleshy fruit in your mouth. Juices running from your lips. Pay heed. All that is left is the seed.

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Apr 18, 2017

Apr 18, 2017 at 4:48 AM UTC

carol-smith

Summer Fruits

Ripe to the touch, ready to be plucked. Peeling off the layers. Pink, moist and fresh. Exposing the flesh. Aromas fill your mind. Gentle soft fingers caress the skin. The pleasures begin. Tasting the fleshy fruit in your mouth. Juices running from your lips. Pay heed. All that is left is the seed.

10

Who’s lucky? I'm lucky. She curled up on my lap. That moment, I fell in love. Can I give her back? Those eyes so wide and frightened. Her heart beat like a drum. "Still that heart" I said. I will not give you back. She came into my home. I placed her on the floor. She sat, and looked at me. Could I give her back? She sniffed and explored. What's this? what's that? Then she peed upon the mat. "Don't give me back". I grew older. She turned into a lady. We journeyed together down that love filled path. Though she did not like her bath. I did not give her back. Then as all living things do. She left me. Leaving a hole in my heart that never filled. And as you can see now I never gave her back.

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Apr 16, 2017

Apr 16, 2017 at 8:48 AM UTC

carol-smith

Lucky

Who’s lucky? I'm lucky. She curled up on my lap. That moment, I fell in love. Can I give her back? Those eyes so wide and frightened. Her heart beat like a drum. "Still that heart" I said. I will not give you back. She came into my home. I placed her on the floor. She sat, and looked at me. Could I give her back? She sniffed and explored. What's this? what's that? Then she peed upon the mat. "Don't give me back". I grew older. She turned into a lady. We journeyed together down that love filled path. Though she did not like her bath. I did not give her back. Then as all living things do. She left me. Leaving a hole in my heart that never filled. And as you can see now I never gave her back.

24

There he is my friend So tall, and swaying in the winter wind To watch him from my frosted window I want him for my beau Long limbs reaching out to the dark My arms need to stretch around his winters bark Naked, except a covering of fine frost He is free but I am lost The stars and moon keep him near To watch him change throughout the year The clouds caress his boughs I am his, if he allows

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Apr 13, 2017

Apr 13, 2017 at 1:15 PM UTC

carol-smith

Love Nature

There he is my friend So tall, and swaying in the winter wind To watch him from my frosted window I want him for my beau Long limbs reaching out to the dark My arms need to stretch around his winters bark Naked, except a covering of fine frost He is free but I am lost The stars and moon keep him near To watch him change throughout the year The clouds caress his boughs I am his, if he allows

12

Tied up by you, Handcuffs and rope Blinded by you, Scarves and hoods Deafened by you, Headphones and music Touched by you, Sticks and whips Senses deprived Pain or pleasure? Are You? Master? Kidnapper? Or Lover?

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Apr 6, 2017

Apr 6, 2017 at 9:17 AM UTC

carol-smith

Pleasures

Tied up by you, Handcuffs and rope Blinded by you, Scarves and hoods Deafened by you, Headphones and music Touched by you, Sticks and whips Senses deprived Pain or pleasure? Are You? Master? Kidnapper? Or Lover?

14