Small boy huddled in a corner

He will never question why

He did not dishonour his father

But that did not stop the black eye



Little baby all battered and beaten

Can not hide away being bruised

Mother can not stop her drinking

But the baby should not be abused



Young girl is daddys' pride and joy

She worships him, no one can know

Makes her protect his little secret

Does not listen when she says no



I look down, crying tears in the dust

In that dust my tears glisten

Knowing that children do not deserve this

Hoping, out there, people will listen

Plastic wires inside my brain
Drastic thoughts still remain
Concrete jungle, no escape
Complete in dream scape

Workers doing endless jobs
Shirkers being called slobs
Scope is far out of range
Hope is someone strange

When time started to run out
Then phantoms silently shout
Never will they be heard
Whether it should be absurd

Playing the same old game
Praying nobody is to blame
Elastic fades away the grain
Plastic wires inside my brain

Light a candle

For the soldiers

Going off to war

To help guide them home

So they never lose their way

Let them see the flame

And come home safe



Light a candle

For all of the lost

Never forget them

Let them come home soon

To those that love them

And cry tears they are gone

See the glow and come home soon



Light a candle

Never let it flicker

Never let that flame die

The soul sees the burning light

And knows it is always there

For should that flame go out

The soul is lost in darkness









copyright Chris Smith 28th October 2009

I can hear the song of the trees
It floats from high above my head
Whispering through the rippling leaves
Being also heard by the birds perched
As they begin to dance from branch to branch
And then the birds also join in the song

Listen to the story of the ancient Oak
You shelter in the branches to hear it told
Of a long time ago when fields grew wild
Of the changing centuries that have passed on by
How the Oak has lived through long forgotten battles
It is a story shrouded in a history of hidden lore

Changing colours as the very leaves start to paint
How many artists have these trees always inspired
The Mountain Ash and the Cedar so royal
The tears unseen from the Weeping Willow
The solitude of the lonesome Pine
Gothic secrets in a cemetry of the Yew

I planted a tree to remember those gone by
Knowing as it grows, so their legend lives again
How they changed my life by their own
So now I hope that their song will be sung
Even when I am gone and long forgotten
And like that very tree, I know they will live on



copyright Chris Smith December 12th 2009

Naked minds clash together
Onwards and then forever
Bold poets with words to tell
Only rising high and then fell
Drawn faces with obsession
Yet they hide deep depression

So fighting to be understood
Pouring emotions as they should
Everyone with metaphors of pain
Crafting in tears of pouring rain
Inwards seeking out special meaning
As somewhere lost hope is gleaming
Let me tell you, you're special to me

Come play a tune for me

Play of love lost memory

Play of almost anything

Let me hear your guitar sing



Let music fill the air

Play for all of us there

Listen to your sweet tune

Playing by the stars and moon



Beauty of the six strings

And the melody it brings

Hear beautiful music tonight

Play until the day light



Please play a tune for me

Play and set me free

You can play anything

Let me hear your guitar sing



copyright Chris Smith 2008

Deny me only one kiss
And my heart shall die

Deny me only one touch
And my soul shall cry

If you should deny me your love
My body will surely wither away

If you should deny me your beauty
Then my life will be taken this day

I love thee, with all of this heart
I would give you my very life

I love thee, with all of this body
Your love cuts deeper than any knife


copyright Chris Smith 2011

Would you remain in dreams
Instead of facing reality
Where the world can't touch you

The warmth of the pretence
Of how it might be
Rather than what you go through

No one can drag you away
Back down into your despair
Of the darkness of your mind

Because you can ignore it all
The growing pangs of uncertainly
Of everything you must find

So reach up to the sky
Don't throw it all away
All we can ever do is try
To live it day to day


Copyright Chris Smith

www.apolloblessed.ning.com

I once spoke to a broken poetess
Transfixed with her words
She told of hearts long forgotten
Of the loss felt in her soul
Her poetry led me to other places
Her imagination became an open book

I never told her of what I saw
A woman full of compassion and beauty
Her aura was of a warm, sensual glow
In her very eyes I saw her sparkle
Her words entranced me like a spell
Her voice was the sound of an Angel

But alas, I could never fix her
She was fated to be a broken poetess
So fragile, but with words so strong
Her heart forever beats in her poetry
Reaching to touch those chosen few
My broken poetess touched me as one

Copyright Chris Smith 2006