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 May 2011 eileen mcgreevy
Today is a good day to wake up
And finally write the great essay.
Today is a good day to rise
And clean that room after
All those weeks.

Today is a great day to even
Sit down and solve that
Math problem and finally
Tame calculus.

Today looks like a good day
To read the book that
Has been sitting there,
Calling my name for a
Long time.

It seemed to be a great day
For anything. I carefully considered
all possibilities. It overwhelmed.

I started with the first plan I mentioned,
which I don’t even remember now, since
it was so long ago this morning; I hesitated
immediately, checked what time it was
And I went to sleep.
Fourth Stanza, third line--> italicize the word "all"

Last Stanza--> Italicized completely.
Like a faded photogragh
The memory slips away
Of times that belong
Buried in the past

She picks up the kettle
Pours in the water
Places it on the cooker
But forgets to turn it on

She is used to the smell
The cats are her company
Running around her home
Because no one calls to visit

She rarely comes out the door
Only to gather food for her cats
Eating very little for herself
For she seldom remembers to eat

In every city and in every town
You will find them living there
Past glory days, all but forgotten
Always alone and never visited

copyright Chris Smith 2011
Men want a confession. Women want a promise.
Men play. Women study.
Men talk and think . Women listen and think.
Men run. Women walk.
Men sing. Women dance.
Men cook. Women serve.
Men count numbers. Women write poems.
Men read puns. Women read paradoxes.
Men want to go fishing. Women want to catch fish.
Men demand dedication. Women demand devotion.
Men think backward. Women think afterwards.
Men want more time. Women want to turn back time.
Men believe in God. Women are friends with God.
Men have shame. Women have pain.
Men have pride and honor. Women have glory and victory.
The sun shines and the children play

The heat radiates from the passing day

Under a old Rowan tree I find shade

But this love I have can never fade

For in Summer, I am in Winter still

She has gone, I see the wide blue sky

Not even a cloud is there floating by

She is away from me, in a land so far

And on a day like this I wonder how you are

For in Summer, I am in Winter still

In the cool river I witness dogs that swim

I see butterflies floating only on a whim

And even I know, to enjoy this day I should

I can not stop feeling this hurt, even if I could

For in Summer, I am in Winter still

So enjoy your day, I am alone on a sandy beach

She is just across the water, out of my reach

I look up now and I see a sea gull cry

To be in her arms right now, I would gladly try

But in Summer, I am in Winter still
Copyright © Chris Smith 2007
Staring at your teeth
While you talk

I see the white peak from yellowed roots
The brownish blank that holds no tooth
The brown-to-pink gradient of your overhanging lip
The gap in the front through which your tongue's tip might fit

I see the smile-stained corners flicked by foam
The lecture-licked lining of your rows of brittle bones
The wide and squinted opening that emits your sunny breath
And the erratic, untrained movements of one who is native to French
I don't write for you to read,
I write for you to listen.
Answer this prayer.
Bring this love closer to her.
Praying to her heart.
copyright Chris Smith 2010
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