That little thing, carrying acorns hurriedly
Across from where the tree had fallen.
To many held ones always loose like
A bread crumb staying still till growth.

Time did move and seasons passed, it
Grew as night and day carried onwards
Never shifting only vertical towards the
Yearning the sky just out of touch.

Man tended the wood, where their were
many, only once stood tall. Fields ploughed,
Acorns fell birthed from above but always
Dug up, alone it stood in a field of corn.

Then a road passed through progress had
Taken this field and cut it in two but still it
Stood the test of time, a furry little one climbed
Holding onto to much as many did fall.

Silent night stars fell into the night sky and
In to the darkness did appear two beams of
Unnatural light as if pulled towards it two
Opposite forces  moving and still became one.

Lights flickered as rouge coated bark, under
This tree lifeless motion acorns feel like rain
Caught by flickering lights faded glow. It was
Torn, fallen it had stood tall for so long.

An acorn was dropped hurriedly so long
Ago in this spot. And it grew to meet this
Moment of cause and effect, destined to
Be met in a flickering lights end glow.

On the day
she turned to dust
she asked the wind
to be her friend
and it picked her up
and ran her
through the fingers
of it's hands
and it poured her
into pockets
and whispered
to hold on
and before the
church had emptied
they were gone..

When I walk through a room and
If the silence is too cunning and too strong
I recall a poem: I once read Bird of Texas
I usually let my eyes zoom in on a target
Most of the time, it’s the exit
With the red lights, or the doors with the double bolts

Poetry writing is like double bolts locks
We lock our thoughts and emotions inside ourselves
and worried about what others might think of us
I seriously doubt that Dr. Seuss worried about his unique way of rhyming

Do not like them,
Sam-I-am.
I do not like
green eggs and ham.

Same here with me, I don’t care if you like my poems or not
My eventuated submission: or my manner of speaking.
Is your way of critiquing gratifying Sam I am?

Do not like them,
Sam-I-am.
I do not like
green eggs and ham.

No words can fully
Describe you and I.
Not one, not five.
Not an infinite amount.

Words are
Never enough.
There is always
More to be said.
A person is always
Beyond definition..


(c) 2015 Brandon Antonio Smith