"smythe" poems
To know just where your're going
You must know where you've been
You must respect the history
The things others have seen
It's true in all things relative
Be it music, sports or life
If you don't know where you came from
You're just dancing on a knife
Gherig, Ruth and Robinson
May, and Mantle, Seaver too
Respect their contributions
And don't just say Ruth who?
Respect where things have come from
And the players of the past
Because you learn and make things better
It's what makes the **** game last
Jimmy Foxx, Bob Gibson, Kaline
Nestor Chylak and The Goose
They made baseball special
They gave the game a little juice
Orr, Richard and Gretzky
Gordie Howe and Howie Morenz
You have to know about them
You need the beginning to your ends
Bob Baun and Bill Barilko
Connie Smythe and yeah...the Chief
You have to know their history
They're what it is to be a Leaf
The game has changed immensely
Things can not go back in time
But to me...the old alumni
Made the game I know as mine
Respect the ones before you
The ones who laid the groundwork down
The ones who made it special
The non-pretenders to the crown
Elvis, Buddy, Harrison
Played the songs inside their heart
Lennon, Wilson and the rest
They all played a real big part
Every single generation
should learn from the one before
For if they don't know where they've come from
Then what has it all been for?
Nicklaus, Palmer, Bobby Jones
Sarazen and Hogan too
They pushed the gameright to it's limits
Now the pressure's upon you
The new breed are the teachers now
They're the ones to lead the way
When twenty or so years from now
You'll hear somebody say
"Respect who came before you
The ones who made us so **** proud
LIke Nash and , Perry and Taylor Hall
They played the game so loud
Pudge, Jeter, and Verlander
they brought it up a notch
They were there to stretch the limits
Not to just sit by and watch
Rory, Justin Rose and Mahan
Bubba, Dustin and the rest
They are the players of the future
They all respected the games best
So, to know where you are going
You must know where you have been
Respect, past through the future
And all that's happened in between.
May 4, 2012
May 4, 2012 at 4:49 PM UTC
Reginald "combover" Twistleton-Smythe
had hair on his head but just on the side
He wore a big hat when out for a walk
Too scared to shave and have a flat-hawk
One day at his Gran's fell asleep after tea
and woke up to find he was combover free
He saw grandmas scissors behind on the shelf
As she looked in his eyes and said "Be yourself!
With that combover thing Reg, you sure do look silly
Go shave your head, you'll look just like Bruce *****
"But my heads the wrong shape, it just wont do the trick,
I'll look less like Bruce ***** and more like a ****
"Listen to your Gran for I always know best,
I'm not saying go out and run round in a vest.
Just cut your hair short and wear it with pride,
it'll be like a mohawk but just on its side"
Reggie "flathawk" I've heard people say
now runs round in vest shouting Yipee Kiyay
Jul 29, 2010
Jul 29, 2010 at 11:31 AM UTC
stem cell words
from the cellular wall of the
poem birth canal
narrows, twists,
even double helix's,
doc-prof diagnosis
with perfect, absolute uncertainty,
denotes the presence of
stem cell words
*"all your writes,
gestating make-believe,
word smythe
premium cocktail concoctions,
gospel soul post-viewed
rocked and roiled
still and always,
unflinchingly personal
singing and simulcast
the unique
internal combustion,
that removes the pollution,
of your
unflinchingly personal..."*
mother necessity
delivery of a
Caesarian cut-them-out
says me
cut, excise them,
take them,
them newborn-baby stones
give them
a good home,
my DNA upon them,
my only Jacob blessing,
that they get
goodly tented taken
let them spawn
more and others,
will love them
better just for knowing
even never seeing them again,
still and always,
whatever they
write on,
still and always,
I'm in them,
they will be,
unflinchingly personal,
even if signed by
another's name....
Feb 10, 2015
Feb 10, 2015 at 6:58 AM UTC
As soon as the ship had left the harbour,
A bird stopped in the sky and blurring clouds
And said a prayer to the sea
Applauded by sunlight; flashing, blinding.
Couples drank in the small bars
In the colossal house, still soaking,
Girls gazing dreamily
At the far and wide sea.
Oh! the glimmering fish that swam so deep
And hid underneath rocks that did not move.
Cabin beds were unmade
And the sea howled its song,
Low pitched as a moan.
A door banged closed; in lower cabins
The girl waved her arms,
Understood by the sea,
And nature on land everywhere,
No chains, no bounds; everywhere, freedom.
Blood flowed in the water,
A salted abattoir, in the sea
Where windows gazed deep and dark
Blood and life merged. Currents flowed.
Mrs Smythe played jazz piano in the bar,
Whispered flirtations spread
Like the ship moving across the sea.
Romances set out. Palaces were built
In the chaos of storms of the oceanic night.
Every star wrapped up
Across the ocean wide
Shielding themselves from the bright
And the young--- glittering trance
Of burgeoning beautiful love stories.
Every morning after—it’s winter, they spoke---
Foam rolling along the decks
Lightning like cymbals, drumming thunder
Rise and fall, rise and fall
Oh! precious creatures of nautical nights!
Yet secrets hum through warmed hands
Sharing enlightenment they will know forever
But which eludes us now.
Dec 20, 2014
Dec 20, 2014 at 5:32 PM UTC