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3.2k · Jun 2011
20 minutes + 600 pesetas
Allen Smuckler Jun 2011
…and who knows
better than I
the ways of a night owl
or for that matter
the hour of the cat
maybe a cathouse
or simply a bar
take the Texas for instance
cavorting women (or girls)
who for 500 pesetas
plus 100 for room
and 20 minutes
out of one’s life
release your tensions
or maybe more
who knows the reason why
(and who really cares)
for 20 minutes
of uncertainty
you can pretend you’re
a man
and imagine she’s a lady
all for 500 pesetas
plus 100 for room
and 20 minutes
out of your life…



Friday, March 9, 1973 (Barcelona, Spain)
2.7k · Aug 2010
Parachutes
Allen Smuckler Aug 2010
Parachutes billowing,
floating
above the abyss
though we all once knew.
Parachutes colliding,
landing
upon the barren land
that man once had.

They came by the millions
     drifting from heaven.
Their reason for being...
      a mystery to all.

Parachutes flaunting,
opening
to reveal themselves  
so that man might learn.
Parachutes lifeless,
wafting
through cloud speckled skies
when man was glad.

They came by the thousands
    dropping from heaven.
Their reason for being
could not be explained.

Parachutes lingering,
meandering
toward their spacklespace
of the damaged sphere...
Parachutes multicolored,
sized and shaped
caught in the crosswinds
and turbulence of man.


They came by the hundreds
crashing from heaven.
Their reason for being
was not understood.

Parachutes traveling,
transporting
the essence of life
for all to perceive.
Parachutes tangled,
snared and collapsed
by pettiness and greed
of those who wanted more.

They came by the dozens,
groping from heaven.
Their reason for being
was a little too late.

Parachutes hanging,
lifeless
not realizing their fate
but expecting the best.
Parachutes sputtering,
idling over the masses..
too blind to see...
too ignorant to know...

They came by the millions
but now there are none.
their reason for being
will never be known-
Written: February 12, 1972 (Age 22)
Revised: May 4, 2010
2.4k · Dec 2010
The Games We Play
Allen Smuckler Dec 2010
Silly games we play
on the game board
of life…
under the pretense
of irritable hushes….
and the stubborn
disingenuous excuses.
The games we play
as if we were twelve
remain with us and
cost us precious time
that neither of us
have to waste…
We move like pieces
and buy hotels or
rent rooms for the night
and play the games
only to hurt from
the loneliness,
self pity and confusion.
The games we play
are not as fun
as they used to be
when we were young,
because there’s so little time
left to enjoy them.
The games we play
are not games at all
but rather
the lives we
choose to live.
November 16, 2010
2.3k · Oct 2010
The Hippy Boy
Allen Smuckler Oct 2010
We stopped in the
whispy city,
the hippy boy and me.
We thought of the
good times and bad,
and encouraged our minds
to be free.

We came upon a drifter
a ***** old man and
his wife.
We never felt the distance,
though imagined their life
without strife.

But where can we be
today
alone in our world
side by side.
We thought about
loving good times
so great and yet
we cried.

Reenter the crispy-
like city,
snow covered,
serene & oblique.
We wandered around
with no purpose,
an oasis that just
sprung a leak.

And who never fought
the war,
the angular, meaningless
scourge.
We found all the cities
amuck,
and all we could sing
was good luck.

So who never sang
the song,
that glorious, soulful
olio.
Just me and that young
hippy boy,
while nobody else
really cared.
January 7, 2001
2.2k · Sep 2010
Happy Birthday With Love
Allen Smuckler Sep 2010
Birthdays, seem to come and go
Love is always here to stay
Birthdays, like seas, ebb and flow
Love, we know, decides the way...

Birthdays try to tell no lies
Love, we say, belongs to us
Birthdays steadfast on the rise
Love, and joy, without the fuss....

Birthdays proudly show the gray
Love, like elk, is colorblind
Birthdays teach me what to say
Love, abounds, and so sublime ...

Birthday wishes on my lips
Love reminds me to forgive
Birthdays from your body drips
Love is all I have to give ...
Copywrite :)  August 30, 2009
2.0k · Jan 2011
Creation
Allen Smuckler Jan 2011
Constipation, *******,
excitation, evaluation
Hold on a minute
HIS Creation

The mind went blank
the body convulsed
no-one knows why
but theories abound

Expectation, demolition,
misinterpretation, damnation,
Wait a second
MY Creation

I did so much
in my chaotic youth
probably nothing to blame
only me and my likes

Infuriation, retaliation,
malediction, apprehension,
stop-look-listen
THEIR Creation

It seems unfair
but why despair
put it in perspective
certainly things could be worse

Demoralization
Intimidation
Expectation
Presumption    
Assumption
Palpitation        
Aggravation

Ball of confusion
Trepidation
*******
A VIOLENT Creation
February 10, 1999
Allen Smuckler Aug 2010
Buttercups running aloof
in mi cluttered mind
of discomfort

Leaflets flapping
as the world turns
mournfully
on its side

Turnstiles of my life
flipping through
the pages of time

and all i can see is
misery

Flowers cresting
in the space they’re
allowed
hoping for the light
the rain...
the time-

Memories wafting
by the impulse of wind
billowing, bellowing
the new season
begins

yet all i can see is the
scenery of despair

Tormented tides
slapping upside mi head
drowning mi tears
as if i were dead

Wandering dreams
of days future past
i’m trying mi damndest
to make mi life
l...a...s...t...

But all i can see
is languishing fear

******* and moaning
not seeing the light
From "Diary Dreams"
I don't know why I went on this tirade...I suppose just to get it off my chest.  ***** and Moan, ***** and moan.
April 4, 2000
1.7k · Sep 2010
Anticipation
Allen Smuckler Sep 2010
The day becomes electric,
as billowing storm clouds grow
and race relentlessly
toward shore.

We scatter hither and yon
awaiting the rain to fall
and a baby continues to cry
once more.

the sun blasts through in anger.
slashing rays penetrating
and Lenny Kravitz playing
on 104.

We watch in dense anticipation
while seagulls maneuver overhead
and no one quite knows
what’s in store.
Written April 17, 2000
1.7k · Jan 2011
Ophiuchus
Allen Smuckler Jan 2011
Such a virtue
taken by
itself,
and then it’s you
that appears…
So I lose
my Libraness
and
become a Virgo,
as we add
another,
and try to
understand…
Am I still
the same,
or have I
become
what I dared not?
Have I gained
a new me,
or lost, what I
never had?

Ophiuchus
copyright:
January 14, 2011
1.7k · Feb 2011
Paradise
Allen Smuckler Feb 2011
Osprey flood-pathed junctures
in the
middle
of Paradise.
Overexposed and diluted
by the
sounds
of the missing heartbeat
and the
loneliness
of the beakless egret
we all feel.

The expression of
the sunlit
reflective pool,
for the
paradise
we know and sense
and understand.
Not quite at the
end of
earth,
but almost.

While the ball
of fire
exposed and
diminished,
flourishes to the
very end., and
awakens on the beaches
of Casey Key,
toward the dusk of
the beautiful day
in paradise…
I smile
February 23, 2011
1.7k · Aug 2010
Birthday Wishes (to me)
Allen Smuckler Aug 2010
Happy Birthday to me!!
Can’t believe I’m sixty!!
neither can the bumblebee
or that nine foot oak tree.
Too bad if they can’t see
or wish that they could be,
able to escape and flee
from thyme inside the pantry.
Happy Birthday to me...
inside my soul is glee.
Figure out the fantasy
of you, and me as we...
May play nine with Marty,
kayak in the fake sea,
have some cake and party
as long as it is free.
I prayed my sister Sandy
could be here and be happy..
and celebrate our history
of her, and me, and we.
Happy birthday to me.
I need a cup of coffee,
a little bit serenity
and lots of you and me.
September 30, 2009 (My sixtieth birthday)
I know......I don't look that old.......or feel it.
1.7k · Aug 2010
Take Me In
Allen Smuckler Aug 2010
Take me in you, now....I’m dying
take a deep breath and inhale me
I love when you do that
and ****** me the way I love the way you do
with branch like fingers
and flowery tips...
****** me...and never stop
take me in and set me free
let me in to your beauty
and change me for life
take me in
take me in
and remember where we’ve been.
January 20, 2010
1.6k · Jan 2011
Woodstock Nation
Allen Smuckler Jan 2011
If I could figure out the snit that I’m in now,
and understand the state, and how I got there
then perhaps I’ll get a sense of where I’m heading,
or at least from where I started this long journey.

My mind is shackled like a prisoner on the lam
and crashing out for freedom’s choice or bust.
I must admit I’m crazy from the fever,
and searching for the answers never found.

There was Martin, and John and Gandhi too
teaching love ins, peace and happiness.
We wrote and sang and made love in bushes
While celebrating Woodstock Nation.

But, we  had Tricky **** and Kissinger
insisting on a war that no one wanted.
The killing fields stretched cross the ocean
to my backyard and yours, remember?

So choose my brethren, choose between
a war of blood, dismay and  torture
or of peace and love and happiness,
and a place called Woodstock Nation.
December 23, 2010
1.5k · Apr 2011
Bridgeport (A Sestina)
Allen Smuckler Apr 2011
Born and reared in the city of Bridgeport,
where the trash arose from Long Island Sound.
The seagulls appeared, then vanished from sight,
wafting and diving through radiant sky.
Some inlets and harbours, lapping the shore,
while sounds of young voices screamed with delight.

Marvelous moments to form our delight.
Skipping through the busy streets of Bridgeport.
Heading south down Park, to visit the shore.
Where all you could hear was the visual sound,
of airplanes and balloons, gracing the sky,
alive in my mind but quite out of sight.

The crystalline sparkle came into sight,
to everyone’s pure and simple delight.
We watched as the clouds emerged from blue sky,
over the stunted skyline of Bridgeport.
Suddenly the clamour, the noise, the sound
came crashingly close to the rocky shore.

With silence removed from that muffled sound,
bemoaning the graphite and speckled sky.
Searching and groping for inner delight.
pasteurized thoughts over the sandy shore.
Memorized pictures brought into our sight,
a lost time; in the bowels of Bridgeport.

Sail boats and tankers came upon the shore,
out of the distance, and into my sight.
All I could hear was breath of the sound,
with glee, laughter, and a certain delight.
The slums became the city of Bridgeport,
reaching endlessly toward the dancing sky.

Adrift; at peace, and awashed by the sound,
flippantly airy as ground touched the sky.
I strolled and smiled with love lost delight,
scampered along on our copious shore.
Aware that my flight was love at first sight,
on the coast, in the city of  Bridgeport.

Amped delight amid the light of our sound
misconstrued Bridgeport scraped close to the sky,
up to the shore and again out of sight.
copyright, April 10, 2011
    A sestina consists of 6 sestets and 1 triplet (envoi)...usually unrhymed and repeat the end words of each line using these patterns:  a) 123456 b) 615243 c) 364125 d) 532614 e) 451362 f) 246531 triplet) (6 2) (1 4) (5 3)...middle and end words of lines in tercet...
As always.....I'm looking for feedback and critique
1.5k · Nov 2010
V-Day, Belated
Allen Smuckler Nov 2010
Anatomically sound, befitting a king
swaying alertly in the waves, I sing.
Hearts, at sea, floundering and pounding
against the cavity of my chest, astounding.

V-Day arriving, and leaving without me
swimming with shellfish and sharks at sea.
Satisfying love’s unique quality,
and breathlessly waiting for me to be we.

Tortuously lying in the keel’s utter mist
waves exploding above, below and amidst.
contemplating all that I ever wished,
remembering when, at first we last kissed.

V-Day, a special enchanting display,
lovingly speeding, though slightly astray.
Wishing you love in a happiness way,
throughout a belated Valentine’s Day.
February 15, 2009
1.4k · Nov 2010
She Disappeared
Allen Smuckler Nov 2010
She disappeared
     what seems like eons;
I miss her everyday.
     Carefree... flamboyant
      reckless and tortured.
She grasped for solitude.

She disappeared
     for who knows how long;
but time is running out.
     Each day grows shorter,
      and I’m no smarter.
I wait for her return.

She disappeared
     from body and soul;
for no apparent reason.
      She flew up...grew up
       and found her airway.
She left me in her wake.

She disappeared
      I wailed and puled;
hey wait, it’s me you flee.
       But the look of her pain
   and the shame in my heart
were really both the same.

She left
and disappeared from sight;
her name scrolled in the sand.
       She disappeared
    and won’t come home,
til carefree days are here.
Written: April 18, 2000
with some revisions on June 1, 2010
1.4k · Aug 2010
On My Knees
Allen Smuckler Aug 2010
Tormented fingers
clenched tightly in a fist
of condescending blues.
Maple leaves and acorns
strewn about the landscape,
and I, on my knees
reaching longingly and hopefully
for a past I’ve left behind.
Understanding and nurturing
those thoughts of ambiguity,
the reckoning of the present
resonates soundly within and
encores prevail from
future reverberations.
I continue to question,
while on my knees,
all that is worthy and good
and yes, even meaningful.
I often stand corrected,
like a blizzard’s whiteout,
however confused I get, and
you, always on my mind,
and again, you find me
floundering on my knees,
searching, groping, exploring
the world...on my knees,
trying to rise and be counted.
While on my knees,
bloodied and wounded
from the heat and the pavement of life,
and the hardness and complexities of time
and the unyielding fact that
I must remain on my knees forever,
if I am to survive another day.
November 6, 2009
1.3k · Dec 2010
Only In The Port
Allen Smuckler Dec 2010
Capitalizing on my looks, I thought
captivating personality.
I asked to take me home, my girl,
take me home tonight with you;
To the land of far off myths, my girl,
of make believe and fantasy.

Take me home my new found friend.
Take me home with you tonight
to the locks and docks downtown,
to the foothills of the Port.

Once I said hello, I knew.
Once your hand was deep in mine,
I couldn’t help but wonder, girl
were we headed for some bliss,
or a land of distant past.
Take me home I begged, take me home.

Take me home my lovely friend.
Take me home with you at last.
To the locks and docks downtown
To the foothills of the Port.

Spacious skies appeared once more
in my thoughtful, thoughtless mind.
The billowy clouds shadowing
all that was left for me.
Away I know, but I don’t know where,
take me home my Miss, take me home.

“It is not your need to know such things
I’m not going home with you.
To the locks or docks downtown,
nor the foothills of the Port.”

Forget the docks, the locks, the Port
I didn’t like you anyway.
I’m simply a postman in distress
who knew your mailing address.
Take me home my girl, take me home,
to the outer reaches of my town .
I only wanted to find my way
but forgot my GPS.
March 3, 2009
1.3k · Sep 2012
Adrift
Allen Smuckler Sep 2012
He came in from the dark of the monsoon of his soul
and pondered how he drifted so far from land
desecration and destruction…torment and anguish
waiting on the other side, hoping I’d find it but praying I don’t
fear, hopelessness and all that appears
statements of contracts entering the room
screaming, “not today, tormenter”
“not today”…

And so he becomes me in thought and despair
waiting for the turn, the moment of truth
until I and me combine with him and he
shuttering, tossing my food, crying inside
traffic jams in my mind due to congestion
wailing to my assailant, “not yet”,
I’m here to stay
“not quite yet”…

Finally, night becomes dawn in the recess of my heart
fluttering amongst the flowers, plants, and trees
those swaying trees of time and wonder
fate hanging on by a thumbnail and a prayer
receiving and sending love from heaven
in the form of a lightning bolt, a rainbow
believing at the end, “I’m free to be”
knowing “I’m free at last”…
written: June 23, 2012
photo: Heaven (February 13, 2011)
1.2k · Sep 2011
Irene
Allen Smuckler Sep 2011
The thumping and darkness in the bowels of Irene
sit lugubriously on the edge of serenity
the pounding and the tears through all these years
languishing in turpitude and solace from her knowledge
unceremoniously, recklessly and without feeling
while listening to her tongue lashing and
harshness of her venomous and thoughtless words
cracking like a whip, “do you think I’m an idiot”
Not once but twice while searching through black clouds
of disappointment and destitution … no rhyme…no reason.

All due to confusing north from south and east from west
reality from fantasy as we all feel the sound of her thunder
Irene crashes on and above the banks of New Haven,
Guilford, Fairfield and the Housatonic
lapping and licking at the shores while throwing
her magnificent weight in her favor, and the swells explode
the question, “how can she possibly know the children”
Even though downgraded and ebbing
the uneven strength and fortitude asks the question
and all my determination fades in the wind.

Trees weakened as we begin to dig out and explore
power lines and internet down, hampering communication
flooded streets and nervous bridges impeached
yet Irene serves notice with an ace of her own
dressed in her sheer-like vest and turquoise ring
her hazel eye filled with scorn and distain
while brightness and candor follow her path
with her feline temperament scratched and clawed
the tears begin to taper amidst her howling breath.
Irene begins to move northward stoically away from me.

I’m not a victim so I pick what remains of my heart
and begin to reattach my churning stomach
with the threads of her words of disbelief
bringing the force she was most capable of exerting
as the storm continues her long, unforgiven journey
hatred and disdain replaced by disinterest and apathy
as the breath disappears, the light becomes brighter
and Hurricane Irene decides to leave Connecticut
impact in place, on the broken bows of the sturdy trees
perhaps she was right, after all was said and done.
Hurricane Irene
August 28, 2011
1.1k · Feb 2011
Bullseye
Allen Smuckler Feb 2011
Enlighten those who seek to know.
Enrich those who are poorer.
Discover life is just a bow,
and you, the timeless archer.
1.4.73 (European)
(April 1, 1973)
Train to Brussels
1.1k · Aug 2010
Crickets on Main Street
Allen Smuckler Aug 2010
1
   listen to the silence of night
and the sounds of the crickets;
away from the city
the strikes and the pickets-

     2
night has fallen
on the big meadow
children running to and fro;
crickets churning
gas lights burning,
tranquil nighttime
here at last.
Papst Blue Ribbon
near the end;
sandman time
around the bend.

        3
The Rolling Stones
Exile on Main Street
Sweet Virginia
side one-cut one
           right on.....
August 28, 1972
1.1k · Jan 2011
Piggy
Allen Smuckler Jan 2011
Smelly piggies in their sty
pushing, shoving; squealing names-
preparations, celebrations
and for what?  the same old
scene-
Crying, sighing, anguished faces
going nowhere in a hurry-
running, fearless, in a fury
through the streets of concrete
jungles-

Fearless meanies hunting prey
getting closer by the day-
who will be the next one busted
put in jail and left to
rot-
Hear the pounding of their feet
knocking gently on your door-
four o’clock and all is well
four-fifteen: a *****
cell-

Piggy, piggy standing straight
stalking me with inner hate,
standing, staring in a gaze-
eyes are open; does he
see?
Give a little peace or love
help the millions who are lost-
fly, my precious little dove
and spread your words for those in
need-
all…and then some-

I still love you piggy-
November 30, 1968 - a time of peace, love, happiness - and a distrust of the establishment...starting with the police....hence, Piggy
1.1k · Feb 2011
V-Day Belated
Allen Smuckler Feb 2011
Anatomically sound, befitting a king

swaying alertly in the waves, I sing.

Hearts, at sea, floundering and pounding

against the cavity of my chest, astounding.



V-Day arriving, and leaving without me

swimming with shellfish and sharks at sea.

Satisfying love’s unique quality,

and breathlessly waiting for me to be we.



Tortuously lying in the keel’s utter mist

waves exploding above, below and amidst.

contemplating all that I ever wished,

remembering when, at first we last kissed.



V-Day, a special enchanting display,

lovingly speeding, though slightly astray.

Wishing you love in a happiness way,

throughout a belated Valentine’s Day.
February 15, 2009
1.1k · Dec 2010
Piggy
Allen Smuckler Dec 2010
Smelly piggies in their sty
pushing, shoving; squealing names-
preparations, celebrations
and for what?  the same old
scene-
Crying, sighing, anguished faces
going nowhere in a hurry-
running, fearless, in a fury
through the streets of concrete
jungles-

Fearless meanies hunting prey
getting closer by the day-
who will be the next one busted
put in jail and left to
rot-
Hear the pounding of their feet
knocking gently on your door-
four o’clock and all is well
four-fifteen: a *****
cell-

Piggy, piggy standing straight
stalking me with inner hate,
standing, staring in a gaze-
eyes are open; does he
see?
Give a little peace or love
help the millions who are lost-
fly, my precious little dove
and spread your words for those in
need-
all…and then some-

I still love you piggy-
November 30, 1968 - a time of peace, love, happiness - and a distrust of the establishment...starting with the police....hence, Piggy
1.0k · Aug 2010
I Wept Today
Allen Smuckler Aug 2010
I wept today, I have to admit I did
and felt my tears moisten my lips,
as they flowed and ebbed;
and I couldn’t turn them off.
I wept today and for days gone by.

I wept this week, like I’ve never done before.
for the memories and thoughts,
and cascading streams from
mountainous reserves.
I wept today at the reality of time.

I wept today at the pictures of  youth,
and thought of  life..and death.
I wondered and wandered my soul,
as my tears turned to rain.
I wept for you and me as well.

I wept this month, and continue to weep
for the emptiness and void
your passing has left.
I grasp for a reason I know won’t appear
I wept today, again and again.

I wept for you and those you loved.
I wept like I’ve never wept before...
I wept and I wept ‘til my tears ran dry.
I wept today and I know for sure
I will weep tomorrow
and ever more.........
To Sandy, my beloved sister
August 13, 2009
Allen Smuckler Aug 2010
Westerly flows on
a northbound
express..
Trembling wasteland
in the dreams of
her dress...

Southerly tides
in East Michigan’s
winter...
cascading skies
under a buried
splinter...

Destiny’s heartland
in the middle of
nowhere...
condoms and fish gear
on a diet of
Lite Beer...
December 3, 2000
926 · May 2011
Ends with a Clatter
Allen Smuckler May 2011
Tonight is the night we all dread and fear,
     because of the tensions arisen by them.
Who will be next and who will see me in the
the mirror of the dungeon...
Who breaks it down and rebuilds
       when it ends with the sound of a clatter?
We speak of the danger and peril of fate to
decide on life.  Who wants to know the
meaning  of sounds, the
meaning of love, the
meaning of hate.
Who can pretend to know;
when pretending ends with a clatter...
     Send the village a card addressed to Bill.
He knows the feeling I speak of.
The peace in my mind,
the love in my heart
the spirituality that,
         ends with a clatter...
No one can tell a person in distress;
one who feels with emotion and
confusion.
Confusion of what?
I wish and oppose to know.
I want and I fear the knowledge.
I receive and I squander the thought of love.
But as always fate shows the upper hand;
and by the fury of all mankind,
ends with a clatter....
Copyright, February 24, 1968
This was my gloom and doom period where poem after poem contained the same theme(s) of death, destruction, and finality.  Also, the Bible played a big part in my poetry though I wasn't a religious person.
914 · Dec 2010
Awakening
Allen Smuckler Dec 2010
Two love sick birds high above
unconscious of the cold,
male cooing his words of love
female like a marigold.

Perched on a branch which overhung
the stillness of a river,
they played for me a sad song
which brought to mind a lover.

They nestled there, side by side
as loving birds are peaceful.
I watched with awesome pride
those birds with love so full.

Then startled by a noise they rose
and flew off through the forest.
I sit here now and just suppose
that they, like all the rest,  find something to protest.

This peace which was injected
through my troubled heart today,
rested in its fervent bed
while waiting for a display.

Our leaders though so unkind,
usher in twelve months of hate.
And ev-er-y-one seems so purblind
except that male and his mate.

Now the silence of their absence
and love lessons we can learn,
unaware of our own presence,
and lust desires which we yearn.

Those two white birds were so alone
in their union and their bond,
they wanted  people all to see
the rising of the sun, the coming of the dawn...
written: March 3, 1969
874 · Feb 2011
Bullseye
Allen Smuckler Feb 2011
Enlighten those who seek to know.
Enrich those who are poorer.
Discover life is just a bow,
and you, the timeless archer.
1.4.73 (European)
April 1, 1973
Train to Brussels
866 · Jan 2011
Asea
Allen Smuckler Jan 2011
floundering souls
searching for the essence
in the sea of humanity,
for what is important
has meaning, and matters.
It is we who care for us
and help those who
can't help themselves...

or something like that...Asea

That's how my poetry
comes to be...
September 7, 2010
Allen Smuckler Aug 2010
I sense the words askew,
in the recess of my soul.
It tends to lend some credence
if the ending is sublime...

Deeds recognized beyond you.
Does nothing leave its hole?
Develop something more than dance,
dessert my endless climb...

Ask only if you dare to view
a monster black as coal.
Address the thrill of holding hands,
and help me reach my prime...

Lust doesn’t mean a simple brew,
laid neatly in a bowl.
Life’s hugs are often happenstance,
left loving all the time...

In harmony we come as two;
I’m breathless from the toll.
It’s just another kissless trance
involved in a crime...

Scurrying thoughts without a clue;
succumbing from our stroll.
Shadowy dreams that will enhance;
some days are more sublime...
May 1, 2001
One of my most difficult poems...and most satisfying
847 · Jan 2011
Check for Updates
Allen Smuckler Jan 2011
Check for updates and
look beyond what is real.
Discover those alone
in thought and
imagine
the unimaginable.
Check for updates while
above the heights
of tomorrow and
wonder
the unbelievable,
accomplish
the impossible.
Check for updates but
process the
unexplainable and
reach
outside the limits.
Create
and become
what was never
conceived.
We must always be
the keepers of the keys,
and remember to
check for updates…
January 14, 2011
834 · Sep 2010
Empty Warehouse
Allen Smuckler Sep 2010
Scorching day of ninety-two,
nothing left for me to do.
Sitting like a rock so hard,
feeling like a tub of lard.

Young girls walking on the trails.
Sweet blown hair form lofty sails.
Thunder in the mountains echo.
time for everything to grow.

Minds and trees and wishful thoughts,
all at such a priceless cost.
Very hard to set it down,
with nothing left inside my crown...
copyright: August 25, 1972
834 · Aug 2010
Love...
Allen Smuckler Aug 2010
Love can always be
the beautiful
renderings within the
passages of life...

Love can sometimes be
the glorious
delights from those
special moments in time...

Love can possibly be
the flirtatious
diversions of these
unexpected encounters...

Love can never be
the perilous
defeats for the
lost soul, the broken heart...

Love is,
always will be
never ending...
June 11, 2009
826 · Dec 2010
OB, NC
Allen Smuckler Dec 2010
Cascading crests
on the Outer Banks,
North Carolina, and
sun drenched bodies
sing hallelujah.
Rejoice the day and
twitter our songs.
We take our place
on the drifting dunes
and at last;
at peace.
__

Opened eyes
with bated breath
and swells of clouds
on the Outer Banks,
North Carolina
Chanting, rejoice the day
and peace at last.
__

The thoughts remain
and stay the same,
as wind blown skirts
corral the day
and stroll along
deserted beaches
in North Carolina,
Outer Banks.
__

Gulls waft and soar
on currents of air,
while women read
and pages turn,
exploring the text.
Men strum guitars
and pound the beach
on the Outer Banks,
North Carolina.
__

Seconds pass while
the ocean resounds
and couples stroll
hand in hand.
Loving the moment,
feeling the love,
awaiting the next
timeless minute
here alone on the
Great Outer Banks,
North Carolina.
September 23, 2010
826 · Aug 2010
Man with a Phone
Allen Smuckler Aug 2010
A Coughing man with a baseball cap, and
a girl in green scratching and caressing
her tanless velvety legs.
Water cascading from the
unnaturally made stoic fountain...

And the man with the phone
in his ear, scrapes by my sunlit chair.
Couples lying and teasing each other
soaking long lost rays together
with eyes smiling for one another...

Palms playing and swaying in the cool breeze    
protecting and shadowing those
who chose the shade over sun.
And a man with a phone attached to his ear
glides pass the unsuspecting couple.

The owl and the eagle peering and
observing from their precarious perches
lifeless in their tachadermal state
expecting more of the very same
yet only a busy signal leaves its mark.

shiftless, shirtless man on the shelf above
gingerly stepping into the steamless pool
again the man with the phone in his ear
ambling and gambling with his call
and only he knows what we don’t.
January 20, 2010
Bonita Springs, Florida
792 · Nov 2010
my soul do take
Allen Smuckler Nov 2010
what a way to end a year
nothing in the way but cheer
but then a few... words of doubt
just to check my feelings out...

how could things become so wrong
left me loving here so long
those words of doubt were only me
learning how to be a we...

and now you’re gone, left for good
in my head... I thought you should
though my heart would disagree
and wish your eyes could really see...

the pain I suffer everyday
wishing you would come my way
holding hands and making love
God is watching from above...

walking on the rooted path
lying in our steamy bath
kissing lips that feel so fresh
In the room our bodies mesh...

My every thought... is of you
oneness turning into two
I cried this day about our fate
and pray dear lord it’s not too late...
May 7, 2010
778 · Aug 2010
A Place in the Sand
Allen Smuckler Aug 2010
Two old gents with cameras in hands,
attached to tripods, made five feet.
they stopped along the shore so fine,
and watched pelicans dive on Marco Isle.

Those same old gents with cameras *****,
gazed and snapped a stately white heron.
Posed and strutted where water met sand,
on Marco Island, mid-winter twenty-ten.

Two old men on their destined paths,
no matter where it led, no matter how far.
Adrift in their thoughts and their friendship,
cameras in hand, attached to their tripods.

Two old gents disappeared behind dunes,
never to be seen or heard from again.
But two old ladies arrived, cameras in hand
ready to take their place in the sand.
written January 29, 2010
(Age: 60)- From Poetry In Motion
767 · Oct 2010
Me, Myself and I
Allen Smuckler Oct 2010
Too **** cold
at the Pawley Resort.
No reason to distort,
gotta be bold
(I said to myself).

I needed to be
south of here.
Cracked open a beer,
decided to flee.
(I thought to myself).

Left at 12 noon
instead of ten.
Did not know when,
only knew soon
(I assured myself).

Deerfield Beach
on the left side coast.
10 p.m. at the most
not otta reach
(I prayed to myself).

Roasting and toasting
I lie by the pool.
Mom raised no fool,
wistful and coasting
(I grinned to myself).
January 29, 2009
759 · Jan 2011
Make That Putt
Allen Smuckler Jan 2011
Make that putt
he yelled
from the
jalousie window
above.
Make that putt .
I may have
given it
to you
but your
opponents
obviously
know you well.
You missed
a foot
going
what makes
you think
you’ll make it
coming back.
Make that putt.
Don’t pick it up.
I haven’t
given it
to you.
Make that putt.
Earn the right
to pick
the ball up
on a gimme.
Does the rest
of your game
****, too?
Make that
****
putt, will ya!!
January 25, 2011
(Deerfield Beach, Fla.)
748 · Nov 2010
The Life We Used to Live
Allen Smuckler Nov 2010
Your mind attached
right now..
to things we used
to know
wrapped around the cortex
refuse to slip away...

The life we used to live
a distant thought before
has reemerged with vigor
dusting brains
for colored prints and more...

My mind connects
to thoughts
of memories’ inner space.
The reason for it all,
I used to wonder why..
it vanished with the days...

We held within our minds
the age of reason’s way.
Reminders of what used to be.
The life we used to live,
is all I know today.
May 29, 2009
740 · Aug 2010
Ben and Mike and Me
Allen Smuckler Aug 2010
We sit awaiting in the cool
thoughts of anything but school
counting, grading each new wave
boogie boarding is the rave.

Ben and Mike stroll toward the action
Me, I sit here like in traction.
Throwing pebbles toward the sea,
Me, I write these words of glee.

Strangers stop and tell the boys
‘bout  jellyfish they will enjoy.
Just walk a piece to yonder shore
to open up adventure’s door.
April 18, 2000
Myrtle Beach, South Carolina
Ben: Age 13
733 · Jan 2011
Twilight's Discovery
Allen Smuckler Jan 2011
I’m smiling now at the kitchen table
reawakening to the light, and the love
and the happiness I feel…
I dreamt last night
of the love of life fading,
into darkness and dread
as fear turned to fright.
The circle of life,
is about living the promise, and hope
of a new inspirational day.
I’ll mark on the calendar
the day of discovery
and wait for the twilight
as night turns to dawn.
copyright: December 23, 2010
(written in collaboration with Kate Little)
Allen Smuckler Sep 2010
Whenever I feel perplexed
About my everyday
Existence

I simply sit down
with pencil and pad

and usually write about
the things which are sad.

Not this time however.
This is a happy poem.
Januaray 28, 1972
718 · Nov 2010
Unknown Voyage
Allen Smuckler Nov 2010
Set sail for an unknown voyage,
Deep, deep, deep within my mind.
A book without a written page.
An actor without the Broadway stage.

Drift, drift, drift, for thirty score.
Forget all life; forget mankind.
Delve, indagate, search and explore,
the coming of peace and the end of war.

Enter now, what will be the end.
Only the cruel are left behind.
Trapped in a world that will transcend,
With phonies and liars, too hard to mend.

We’ll set sail for that mystical place,
Where never a word is said unkind.
Gaze, gaze, gaze without a trace
Upon war and hate and pure disgrace.

To enter my mind, I will admit
Is like entering the sea totally blind.
Sink, sink, sink within the travelled pit.
No one knows how you’ll benefit.

Rest, rest, rest in that silken bed.
The trip you’re on is hard to define.
You’re aware of your trunk, your limbs, your head.
Hey passengers, guess what? You’re dead.
December 7, 1968 (Pearl Harbor Day)
19 years old
713 · Nov 2010
Lost in Time
Allen Smuckler Nov 2010
Somewhere
between
night
&
day
and June of ‘03
and December  of ‘08
came
a gap in time
that leaves me
forgetting
what
I’m
here
for.
Do you remember?
January 24, 2010
707 · Feb 2011
Endless Journey
Allen Smuckler Feb 2011
Concrete minds, abstract lives,
master of your fate.
The tired man at last arrives,
while you just sit and wait.
1.4.73 (European)
(April 1, 1973)
Brussels
700 · Sep 2010
The Fifteen Minute Break
Allen Smuckler Sep 2010
Forcing words is such a drag
when nothing’s really there-
feelings like a dishrag
I often wonder where.

yet happiness endures...

Calculated formulas
make things appear so tough-
formulated theorems
and all that kind of stuff.

but happiness endures...

It’s early in the morning
six hours at the books-
the sun begins its dawning
my thoughts like hollow nooks.

still happiness endures...

Although my head is swimming
like fish beneath the sea-
I can’t escape the passion
that’s known as joy to me.

and happiness endures...
July 5, 1972 - A lifetime ago -
691 · Dec 2010
Alone and Confused
Allen Smuckler Dec 2010
The pain of fear is an
everlasting torment...
To shun the vast unknown,
or waste your time alone...
Confused with life,
and scared of death’s
eternal presence…
Fear remains embedded
among those people,
who do nothing but
live within their sins...
February 2, 1968...One of my original poems when I was 19 years old...a lifetime ago.  Funny how 42 years later.....not much has changed.  Hmmm.
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