You can’t
explain
the world in
Haiku.
It’s more complicated
than that.

If you know everything,
seventeen syllables
are just not enough!

So, I like to
break the rules
and write my Haiku in
eighteen syllables.

Oh ****!
If I ever write
another Haiku,
shoot me
for Chrissake
and put me out of my misery.
There. That’s thirty four syllables.
**** it.
And there’s two more
just for the hell of it.
Now I feel a lot better.
I’m free.

As I see you my queen
Each day and yonder
I am soothed, very much graced
At your angelic presence
I see your face
And everything's new again
I am delighted to be..
Upon your golden threshold
Each second I'm away
I am missing you terribly
Your beauty grows daily
Every morning I awake to you
The effect you leave with me
Has me feeling like old times
As though they've never left
The second we fell in love
You stir up feelings I never knew
Just like our first meeting
As we grow in age and love
The feeling of newness
Has undoubtedly never left
I remember as our first kiss
Comforted my eager being.
And each time after that
Feels exactly the same
As the beginning
The first time, everytime.
Every time I hold you
My mind rewinds to that time
That day flashes within my mind
Nothing has changed
When love meets its completion
That resting memory is awakened
Over and over again
Times have become older
But still seems younger
Each time we're together
It gets better and better
Like a bed made of tulip petals
Your love is tender and smooth
Our years will someday catch us
But even when that day cometh,
It will always be, like the first time..

©Michael P. Smith

Wine comes in at the mouth
And love comes in at the eye;
That's all we shall know for truth
Before we grow old and die.
I lift the glass to my mouth,
I look at you, and I sigh.

I'm not saying
I'm in love
w/you
except
I am.

Misty winds, perilous deeds,
smeltering sun, wandering needs,
easily breakable moments, brittle
as cold glass, empty heart within
why cant my insignificance pass,
deep sighs, strong murmurs, straining of
the pressure as my stress slowly hurdles,
red moon, blood-filled skies, daggers piercing
my eyes as the passion cries, When does it end?
Where do my thoughts lead? So vacant inside
myself I just proceed with greed, lost in the mind,
filled with heavy glitches, somebody pick me up
before i lose my britches, demons surround me
all the time, I truly need relief, a new lease on life,
no longer can handle the grief or pain from the strife,
God has my ticket, considered truly my spiritual guider,
trying to seek the light, the heavenly hole spreads wider,
my mind getting clearer, im delivered from the corrupt,
no longer deminished inside, released from fate so abrupt...

©Michael P. Smith

Last night I danced like my dad
with a girl who resembled a dictionary definition
I read not long back-
charming.

Graceful eyes that could
stop traffic with a blink,
and engaging lips that
would smile to sooth the pain of
the midday, gotta-get-back-home-now,
commuters whom step
on pedals with haste.

I lied. My dad can’t dance, so last
night I made a fool of myself
in front of a girl who resembled
a dictionary definition I read not
long back.

With age comes wisdom,
      Yet so many die,
         Before their time,
            By their hand,
A society that measures them
     By the quantity of their success
          Not the quality of their being
We notice decay and adore youth
      Clothes are skin thick and needle deep
            Human life is cheap
               To be used
                  Discarded
Like so many cans of soda
      Drained to the last drop
          Whatever remains
             Dries out in the summer
                     Freezes over in the winter
And they wonder why we are cold
        Why we are heartless
               Why we use
                                                       You taught us this.
The young
   The beautiful
        Whoever said we have it easy
               Should have been hung by his toes
         And left for the crows
     Maybe if they took his eyes
He would know a fraction of our pain