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The Voice in the SilenceJust as the tree in the heart of the woods
Wonders,
If I topple and fall from standing so tall,
Will anyone hear my cry?

So you lay in bed, alone, in the night
Wondering,
If I scream in my head till the world turns red
Will anyone hear my cry?

But there's a voice on the wind, a whispered
Wondering,
If I give you a shove to show you my love,
Will you ever hear my cry?
The Con ManYou twiddle your thumbs.
Are those nerves?
Or are you expecting something from me?
Or are you simply deeply engrossed in thought?

I ask,
Why do you strut about with your head held high,
With naught but silly falsifications flying from your lips?
Is the chance to seduce a fellow man more important to you
Than finding happiness in truth?  To what lengths will you go to con me,
When in the end such lies only build about you an impregnable fortress
Where your own deceit will blind you from the truth?
Here you strut about creating worlds to seek as shelter,
Forgetting that there is a real world at all.
Tell me, are these li
I died tomorrow nighti died tomorrow night
when you'll say goodbye
and i'll play forever long
our last favorite song.

i'll hear black butterflies
crashing against the windows,
and i'll listen to the light
as it fades into the sky.

i'll smell dying flowers
and the poison in my veins,
and i'll crave lucid colors
to paint my heart sane.

i'll taste the sweet bitterness
your tongue has to give me
so you'll punish my soul,
and i'll ask for forgiveness.

i'll see the old grey walls
saying its secret lies
- inside my mind, only you
and death which us binds.

i died yesterday night
when you said goodbye
and i wrote you a song
to haunt you all life lo
Quest For Solace
She dreams beneath
the elder oaks
under radiant showers
of autumns red and gold
a shedding riot of vibrant decay
a windblown bed for her repose
a quest for solace in slumber
unfettered in mystic reverie
but a wing beat away
where woe is unknown
and sorrow a stranger
Comfort found on a pillow
of mist cooled green moss
softly fragrant of life
and eternal renewal
Hope sinks deep roots
and flourishes within
the sacred promise
of her spring born heart...
Don'tDon't you look at me with those glazed glassy eyes
As you lay there grasping sulfurous stitches in your sides;
Don't you speak to me in that dry, dry murmur,
Through raw pink lips as swollen as a stage-two tumor;
Don't, just don't . . . don't you dare stop your breathing,
For the silver moon is high and Death is now feeding;
Don't leave me to depart with the divine
As God decides to pluck your bright, ripe life from the vine.

No, don't you dare impart on me this woe
For the end has come, and I cannot bear to watch you go.
The RainmakerLiquid pebbles shatter on
Glossy cobblestones
The Rainmaker comes again.
Wet SandIt's wet sand slowly drying, in which deep fissures split the earth
Snaking back and forth and in and out like so many strands of hair;
Grain by grain, breath by breath, dust replaces dust --
And the windblown, sun-dried earth rolls back into its original soft domain,
Awaiting the next rain, the next fire, the next quake, to rinse it and repeat.
It's this, our world, in ever-constant change.
BubblesSoap bubbles
Soul bubbles
Pop one and the baby giggles
Pop the other and---
We are GlassGod knows we're sinners
But he loves us the same.
Our hearts provide the rhythm
Which play to his strings.
He knows our chests are of glass,
For he made us this way.

He made us this way
So he can see straight through
To our hearts,
To our souls,
And the view leaves him breathless.

Hope is but an excuse for bliss
When it's not hope but God that we need;
He is the tree and we are the seeds.
He is love and the lover,
Faith and the faithful,
The caller to arms and to shields,
From death he protects us
When he resurrects us
If only we follow his lead.

We are glasses full empty
Waiting for grace to fill up our veins
And rattle
broken hearts,boys and girls IIt was dark. I sat in my bed holding his picture in my hands. I saw him in my dreams, I already knew that some day I will fall in love with a pair of green eyes. I knew he was the one. The doctor who will be able to heal my wounds, the phoenix who will help me rise from the ashes. He was the one. So i got up and went out into the forest. I didn't know what I was searching for, but I ran and ran. I found him. He sat there, gazing at the stars. Oh, beautiful stars, shining between an army of snowflakes!

'' Why are you here? he asked staring at me with his big emerald green eyes.'' I could lose myself staring deep into those eyes, I said to mys
in a nutshellA bird to break the silence
A screech to take the weak
A laugh to lift the hopeless
A sigh to make us seek

A darkness tells of peril
A dim that we all dread
A lightness light as carols
A bright white bride to wed

A seeker of the sunset
A soldier in the war
A love as strong as fish net
A partner we adore
DanielThe ship set sail on the fourth of September, 1635, after a harsh wind and a wet rain, and as the anchors lifted and the breeze filled the sails, Daniel the deckhand finished the last bit of scrubbing that needed to be done that day—but, by noontide, the salt-rich sea had already begun to spray drops of hard crystalline residue on the banisters and the deck planks, and the Captain, being a very stubborn, neat-and-tidy fellow, insisted with no amount of sympathy that Daniel ought to get back to it with soap and sponge, or else, God so help him, he'd feed Daniel to the lions: it was a cargo ship, after all, delivering several African mamma
hollow mansee him standing there
the hollow man
his skin stretched thin
like parchment
over bones no muscle
just skeleton just skin
light pours round his
emaciated outline
framed in the portal
the hollow man
the soulless
hollow man
eyes of deep abyss
hand at his side
fingers flicking softly
just barely
as if trying to remember
how to work
how to feel
how to . . .
oh
how years
have stolen
what years
have stolen
The Hardest Goodbyes The hardest goodbyes
are the ones we speak
when the ones we love
are no longer listening.
The hardest goodbyes
are the ones we're forced to say
after we realize that they're the only one we
could ever want,
but they're walking away from spending too much time thinking they're
replaceable
because we didn't tell them
how much we care--
how much we love them.
The hardest goodbyes
are the ones we choke out
our throat constricting
tears spilling down our faces;
word vomit
words we wish we didn't have to utter.

The hardest goodbyes
never get a reply
and are always left floating in the wind
waiting for a breeze to pi
Wilde's Wit and WisdomINTRODUCTION

I have always loved the great poet, playwright, and asthete Oscar Wilde, and thought that (just for the hell of it, you know) I'd share what I believe to be the best of Oscars wit and wisdom.

Additionally, I would like to add that however ardently I may wish I owned Oscar, or had had anything to do with the creation of these beautiful and brilliantly knitted-together words you are about to read, I could not.

Everything is Oscar's.

The poet can survive anything but a misprint.

Do you really think it is weakness that yields to temptation? I tell you that there are terrible temptations which it requires strength, strength and c
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This Love

:iconlethart:

That which cannot be seen by sight
One must learn to feel within the heart;
For in that realm the invisible becomes visible,
In that realm the lost become found:
True Love is but a teardrop away,
A silent scream away,
A head raise to Heaven away,
A heartbeat away:
This Love is a topsy-turvy and a helter-skelter,
This Love is the great unbound Wild,
The greatest adventure,
And this uplifting of the soul,
This fire of the spirit,
This unfettered freedom,
This grace,
This love,
Is my God.
:iconlethart:
:heart:

God is good.


All my works are © B.S. Smith with all rights reserved and shall not be reproduced, altered, or used in any other way without my written consent. Thank you.

Thank you for taking the time to view my work, and for adding it to your favorites if you choose to do so!

Comments are always welcome and appreciated!
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:iconinsanewalk:
Critique by ~insanewalk Nov 16, 2009, 12:23:08 AM
You open the poem with 'That which cannot be seen by site, one must learn to feel within the heart'

This drew me in instantly. It presented an original thought and made me go, "What?" Thus, I read on, and eventually decided to write a critique.

Your use of imagery paints a beautiful portrait of 'This Love' and creates a vivid dance of the 'topsy-turvy' and 'wild' thing we call love -- and that is very difficult to do! Beautiful.

Technicalities;
-I think you meant 'sight' not 'site'.
-'A head raise to Heaven away -- I see what you are trying to say, but it is unclear and doesn't make sense.


Other than that, it is nothing short of a beautiful, well-crafted and thought provoking piece. Keep it up!

With Love,
Andrew
What do you think?
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:iconkylebelieves:
~kylebelieves Nov 16, 2009
this was symbolic, metaphoric, and literal all at the same time, which is so hard to achieve while writing.
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:iconlethart:
~LethArt Nov 16, 2009  Professional Photographer
thank you :)

welcome to deviant art
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:iconaquagirl7:
~aquagirl7 Nov 16, 2009
i agree with insanewalk, i love how you start saying how love is something we feel, not to perceive but.......i think you can give a little more variation of diction, its just a suggestion but it could help

anywho, this poem is lovely :)
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:iconlethart:
~LethArt Nov 16, 2009  Professional Photographer
The repetitive diction was to create a bouncy, wild sort of flow to it.

Thank you :)
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:iconaquagirl7:
~aquagirl7 Nov 16, 2009
no problem :)
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:icondamien-c:
!damien-c Nov 16, 2009
It's wonderful to see that devotion. A sweet surrender. Beautiful poem.
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:iconlethart:
~LethArt Nov 16, 2009  Professional Photographer
thank you, Damien.
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:iconha91:
=HA91 Nov 16, 2009  Hobbyist Photographer
Agreed :heart:
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