A man called DAVE

I am a man, called DAVE

My story is boring

But you will be amazed to find

I am a man called Dave

Ordinary sometimes kind

A man called Dave

I wear a size eight shoe

Never get the blues

Never been done in

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poem by Yvette Smith
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Bad Breath

Bad breath is not necessarily a omen of death

It may be a sign of the mouth in decline

An anorexics cachetic past time

Of Eat and PURGE

and Eat again

Itmaybe the garlic eaten to ward of evil

Or organic toxins in the brain

Bad breath may not be a sympton of death

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poem by Yvette Smith
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Question

I don't have the answer

So why ask me, why?

Why do you ask me a question

When there is no reply?

As though the answer was this?

Did you know all along?

That so much space

Is weighed down in white silence

Who told you these things?

These imagined replies?

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poem by Yvette Smith
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Hi 'My Name is Alan

Hi, my name is Alan,

Hi My name is karen

Hi, My name is assonance

Don't ask me why?

Sometimes it is condensed to

'ASS'

You know in that unfamiliar interlude

Between just 'in passing ' and being 'rude'

So how do I know Karen and Alan?

Though they don't know each other!

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poem by Yvette Smith
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School report

You stood behind me

Watching, looking over my shoulder

I saw you writing

'Could have done better'!

I screwed up the paper

It missed the bin

My destination.... to write? ? or

There was more poetry in watching you

Unravelling the argument from your eyes

Burning still

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poem by Yvette Smith
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Olive At Midnight

An olive at midnight

Green

shiny

globe

of
black

The size of a dirty workman's thumb

They (the olives) tumble towards me

Down hills and in still slick lakes of olive oil

I meet my dark shining olive

By suprise

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poem by Yvette Smith
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A Pair Of Smiling Teeth

A pair of smiling teeth, took me by suprise

One miserable november day

Caught by the light that shone from those pearly whites

I was at once diminished in sight

Sore, knocked to the floor

Once bitten twice shy

The smiling teeth bit into my thigh

And then jumped into my bag

They appeared in several anonymous photographs on their own

The smiling teeth arrive without a face

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poem by Yvette Smith
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Unread

Unread the faces in the street

That cross and cross the path

Where they meet, and do not meet

The eyes unseen

There, there are windows without souls

But two feet mark the spot

And on they go

casting their lot beneath them

Like an afterthought

Can you see the lines in her skin?

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poem by Yvette Smith
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People Are Lonely Like You!

People are lonely

So how do they look, the lonely?

Where do they go?

What do they do?

So many too many lonely people

Our they the 'face in the crowd? '

Or are they the crowd of faces

Looking out

Sheep in a pen

Walking the streets and back again

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poem by Yvette Smith
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Mad People

It has been said

That mad people talk to themselves

The person who said this, made sure he said it

To a room full of people

Who apparently were engaged in some interesting conversations

With the four walls

Who all appeared to be listening

Because no one heard them reply

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poem by Yvette Smith
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