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Violet Smithe Mar 2020
When I first learned of color,
I entered a world of vivid possibilities.

When I heard my first sound,
I was no longer at a loss of words.

In the beginning,
Never once did I imagine the day
When it would all start to fade.

As the years past,
The world lost its shimmer.

No longer were the roses as red
Or the words on a page as crisp.

No longer was thunder's clap as loud
Or song of the wind as melodious.

Never once did I imagine
a gift once gained
would be stolen away.
Violet Smithe Mar 2020
Weight on my back foot.

The sound of the final chord rang out around me.


All I could hear was silence.

As though the room was empty and I,
I was its only subject.

With a stillness in my heart I stood,
took my bow,
and left.
  Mar 2019 Violet Smithe
Megan Edwards
The sparkles of life
Trickle with trepidation.
Ripples ricoshade from one to side to another;
As life seems to stop.

Smoothly dancing along the top,
Gliding like a kite across the surface.
Winding, wildly along the curves; taunting Zeus of his power.

The birds call out far and wide
They communicate with the sea.
They understand him
And they understand what he needs.
This one is written in more of a Ted Hughes style. This is my first time getting inspiration from  materialistic objects. Hope you enjoy **
Violet Smithe May 2015
It was a tragedy like no other.
It was a memory that could not have been erased.
It was the choice that begged.
It was a risk I needed to take.

It was another world.
It was the one last option.
It was faith.
It was destiny.
It was life.

It was style.
It was glamour.
It was serene.
It was peace.

It was a song that sang
It was a voice that spoke
It was a mind that dreamed
It was a soul that hoped

It was a feeling like no other
It was a figure that would not disappear
It was a thought of me
It was a dream of you

It was the voice that once spoke
It was those whispers in my ears
It was the name I called
It was the thing that answered

**It was you
Violet Smithe May 2015
Life may become distant
But time moves on
We explore
Even as the rain continues to pour
Cyclones rage
While we turn the page
People may draw the line
But this is my life
For it’s a piece of art
May it come from the heart.
Violet Smithe May 2015
Every night I dream...
Every night I’m afraid...
Every night there’s no end to what is coming.
Every night I know what’s going to happen and choose not to believe
Every night I ride in my car,
I look up at the moon and there’s a face staring back at me,
And whenever I drive through a streetlight
I’m afraid the lights are enclosing me
There’s no way out.
I’m trapped forever more
I’m afraid for what is coming . . . . .
Violet Smithe May 2015
Oh what I see,
What I see it to be,
What I perceive,
What I dream,
Oh what I thought it to be.

What I see,
Not what I saw,
What they think,
But not thought.

Oh the devilish thing
When it hits you
It hits you with a bang
The one thing.

The sight of a rose
A red rose
Cowering under a dense canopy of leaves
Leaves in a endless forest
Is it really red
How could you know what you've seen
Seen what you believed you see
Not what you saw.

A world turned upside down
Hoped to be righted
A thought of feeling swept the minds,
Wronged once more
Then righted again
Like a click of a lock
Or the crack of light,
Light that streams through a door.

Seeing is believing
But are we truly perceiving,
Perceiving the knowledge of our very beings.
We erase our problems
In reality everything sticks around
We are a brick in a solid wall
Is believing really seeing
Are we the right in the wrong
The upside in the downside
The answer in the question
The thought in the mind
The see in the sight
The voice in the silence
The meaning in things small
The black in the white
The sight in the blind
The message in the song
The red in the rose
The rose in the trees
The rose weʼll never see
The colorless rose in which we perceive to be red
Is it?

I think not.
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