Sum Of You
The sum of you is 1+2
The sum of me is 1+3
The sum of us = 7
Now that's a love that's made in heaven!
With family and friends add 4
Without our love our friends are poor
All together we make 11
Now that's a love that's made in heaven!
The sum of a cat must = 9
He has alot of lives to live before he dies
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poem by Yvette Smith
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The critic
The status of critics has changed,
The most important critics were those who stood on street
corners
Full of gossip and finger wagging
Or the busty burly matrons whispering over washing lines
These critics were the slanderers
The little vipers who hung by the school gate
Some still do,
This time they sink a pint or two,
In the pub with a couple of pug nose friends
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poem by Yvette Smith
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The serious thing about poetry
The serious thing about poetry
Is the 'serious thing about poetry'
It is not in the writing but the reading
We define it!
We who did not write it
Or know the serious thing about poetry
Is in the 'business of writing'
In the silent inflections and reflections
In the silence
Just the silence
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poem by Yvette Smith
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Rubbish Tip
At the rubbish tip they place their words
Just on the edge of
Surreal and absurd
A gold leafed edge
A lettered page
At teh rubbish tip
They stage
Their acts in
'THREE PARTS SCENE ONE'
Then you arrive
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poem by Yvette Smith
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Fear Of Freedom
They fear from afar
The freedom denied to them
Made cold iron bars their home
Darkness their daylight
Made soft hands cruel
Eyes twisted
Hearts cold
Vented rage and spleen on corners of hyde park
Stood erect and hovered over passers by
In servile anorak and worn out jeans
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poem by Yvette Smith
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Aunt marjorie's wig
Aunt Marjorie's wig went a missin
While cooking a stew and reminiscing
She recalled her first kiss
as a bit hit and miss
With a fidgety midget from gissing
As she filled her meat pie
She started to cry
Cos the onion was burning a lot
It tasted quite bitter she thought with a titter
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poem by Yvette Smith
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Depression
They give you a pill for your depression
They say, 'It will soon go away'
They tell you it's a defect in your expression
It comes and goes like passing days
They tell you not to think in colour
'Try monochrome, or shades of grey'
They tell you not dream or think too deep
Or imagine living on a better stage
They give you a word for your depression
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poem by Yvette Smith
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Bagpeep Billy
Bagpeep Billy was highstrung kid
Who blew his peeps to earn a couple of quid
He blew his peeps all day long
With stiff little fingers that were tough and strong
And his brother 'little willy' would tag along
With a cap in his hand
And a spurren on
Sometimes willy tapped, or sang along
But Bagpeep Billy had a frog in his throat
Had had a big honker
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poem by Yvette Smith
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Fried Ego And Chips
They f you up old freud an jung
They like to get their chips 'well done'
The chip on the shoulder the thorn in the side
Their victims serve to boost their pride
Now any old quack can sit in their chair
charge a pound a minute while he talks to the air
Then assume a soloution a potion a plan
To transform some poor sop int
'A better man'
While belittling constraining controlling contriving,
The poor little nobody's attempt at 'surviving'
The world is in chaos it's always BAD NEWS
Even neurotics have a right to be blue
But still they arrive once a week to that place
Where they pay for their pain as if it's a disgrace
To care in a world that is spent of all care
But for a pound a minute you can talk 'To the air'
Emerging as a 'Better man'
All service rendered job well done!
Your shrink now has a PENSION FUND
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poem by Yvette Smith
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Rain
Waiting for the rain
At the rivers edge
Waiting for rain under a raging sun
Standing on cracked earth
The river pulls back from the mouth of the shore
Hungry for rain
Mouths drink their own tears
Feet dance to an unfashionable 'rain god'
Beating a drum limp wristed
In a distant land the casualties rise
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poem by Yvette Smith
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