nonsense is an 'Art
The 'Art' of the 'ridiculous' is to be somewhat meticulous
In chosing, 'certain words'
To capture the Absurd'
The artus riducularus
Is to find something hilarious,
Perhaps in a scattering on silly names
A certain gait a wibbly stutter
The art of the ridiculous
Lyes in being quite meticulous
In making nonsense ryhme
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poem by Yvette Smith
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Robot Blues
They are short circuting again
Those robotic men
Wires blown
Fuse gone
Singing the blues
The robot song
Marching to work and back again
Lights on the blink
Days cut short
To night fall
Blotting the stars with a marker pen
Numbers in
And out again
Circuits faulty
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poem by Yvette Smith
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The Poem Came
The poem came on a rainy day
And hid behind a curtain
It said 'Go away! I have something to say'
But of this I am uncertain
The poem wept and the poem cried
All night it paced the floor
Unable to smile or to rest a while
It collapsed in a heap on the floor
Lacking in verse
And lacking in rhyme
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poem by Yvette Smith
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Underneath The Stars
When the closed eyed dawn
Breaks the silence
Of the still dark nights
Ceaseless argument
When restless skies move unseen
Beneath the curtain
Each ruin a dream
Unshed
Unseen
And underneath
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poem by Yvette Smith
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Puppy Face
Puppy face is back
With those soft puppy cheeks
A healthy hue
Eyes full of dew
You fill my heart with love
A human form you choose to take
But inside I hear you bark and squeak
And I am sure when nature calls,
You cock a leg and take a leak!
Oh puppy face is back panting in the hall
I see you lolloping about
And jumping high to catch the ball!
You bring me so much sunshine
I'm so glad to be alive
When you are here so full of cheer
Leaping by my side
poem by Yvette Smith
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How To Write Wrong Right
What is wrong is often misunderstood as right
And what is right is often wrong
And so many write the song
And make right wrong
And do this right
Error perfect
Taught the perfect flaw
There is no cure or cause or fate
Of late forgetulness makes us feel blessed
Make sense from 'Ignorance is bliss'
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poem by Yvette Smith
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A flea
A flea came my way
And I crushed it senseless
Later I had a pang of guilt
Cos it was vulnerable and quite defenseless
But in my defence I stopped its plight
For the sake of one meagre bite
I clipped it with my thumb
Until squashed and rendered numb
I kissed its soul goodnight
And with the [flea] angels it took flight
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poem by Yvette Smith
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Love Did Not Come
love did not come to me
though I have seen it standing cold and frozen in the rain
love did not come to me
though I have called out loud and long
It did not hear it's name
Nor did it turn to see my shadow fading, gone
Or catch the waves that swept a bleak and barren shore
Or see the ruins of a heart, that looked on love no more
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poem by Yvette Smith
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Read Me
Read me like you would read your favourite book
A fine wine
A line that is not mine
That baits the tongue
And hooks you in
Read me like you would read a star with just one look
And see a whole constellation rising
Where you fear to tred
Come read each word each turn of phrase
Each slight of hand
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poem by Yvette Smith
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A handful of sorrow
A handful of sorrow
called grief
In an hourglass
The sand slid through time slowly
They held onto their self help books
Like walking sticks
Refusing to grow old
Yet clutching at the grey day
Like a constant mourner
Working out a diary
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poem by Yvette Smith
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