Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
There once was a little mouse
Asleep in his own little house
Cosy in his own little bed
On his pillow is his little head

Dreaming of getting past the cat
Creeping past with pitter pat
Trying not to give away a sneeze
Climb up and steal the cheese

Because that cheese is so yummy
So nice in his little tummy
Has to be quick and brisk
When he awakes, he will take the risk
Copyright © Chris Smith 2009
Thou wast that all to me, love,
  For which my soul did pine—
A green isle in the sea, love,
  A fountain and a shrine,
All wreathed with fairy fruits and flowers,
And all the flowers were mine.

Ah, dream too bright to last!
  Ah, starry Hope! that didst arise
But to be overcast!
  A voice from out the Future cries,
“On! on!”—but o’er the Past
  (Dim gulf!) my spirit hovering lies
Mute, motionless, aghast!

For, alas! alas! with me
  The light of Life is o’er!
“No more—no more—no more”—
(Such language holds the solemn sea
  To the sands upon the shore)
Shall bloom the thunder-blasted tree,
  Or the stricken eagle soar!

And all my days are trances,
  And all my nightly dreams
Are where thy dark eye glances,
  And where thy footstep gleams—
In what ethereal dances,
  By what eternal streams!

Alas! for that accursed time
  They bore thee o’er the billow,
From love to titled age and crime,
  And an unholy pillow!
From me, and from our misty clime,
  Where weeps the silver willow!
I am the stranger outside
Watching you in the shower
The monster under your bed
When you're trying to sleep

I am the stalker in the shadows
When you're walking in the street
The fear on the dark corners
You know I'm waiting there

I am the nightmare at night
Those forbidden thoughts in your head
You try to make yourself resist
But you're a prisoner of my will

I am the coming *******
As you fall to your submission
The surrendering to completion
At last, you face exactly who I am
Copyright Chris Smith 2014
A month ago I sat in class
in a New England School for boys
Now, I'm in a bomber group
Adjusting to the noise

I made plans for Harvard
A doctor, I would be
Then my life would turn
In a way I didn't see

The war was on in Europe
We saw in the press
But, 18 days before Christmas
we were pulled into the mess

Future plans were put aside
Our country we'd support
We'd forget all of our future thoughts
We'd join, though not for sport

We signed up down in Boston
Young men flyers, soldiers all
Preparing for a battle
Many would not live till fall

We thought not of our future
Our present, all we had
Many dead by Christmas next
The thought is truly sad

You do not what you want to
But, what needs to be done
You go from boy to man so fast
You've barely walked...now run

Think back on those who made it
Remember who did not
Young men they are forever
They deserve a longer thought

The air is pure and holy
It is scattered with young souls
Boys, now men who went to war
And put aside their goals
I heard your fingers point at metaphors
that confused your mind.
I saw your comfort become woven
around the mask you wear,
when like you failed to find.

What if I told you of those hidden scars
those words could simply free?
Would you become a reflection
of the sun, or pretend
you don't hear me?
Copyright @2014 - Neva Flores Smith - Changefulstorm
Sweet darkest rose
A secret nobody knows
When night gives a glance
Be my moonlight dance

Sweet darkest mystery
With hidden beauty I see
As twilight begins her embrace
Let moonlight touch your face

Sweet darkest sprite
Dancing for my delight
I watch you and I know
By dawn you must go
Copyright Chris Smith 2014
Next page