Mrs Bryces Onions

mrs bryces onions

Unmentionable as from today

They say, they're turning grey

Once proud shiny roundy

To be foundy in most fertile groundies

Now rotten to the core

Mrs bryces onions are corrupted

DEAD

They are no more!

Withered battered shattered

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poem by Yvette Smith
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V.i.a

V.I.A

Means 'Very Important Ant'

I met him by chance

On a humid day

ON the way home from the dance

He was quite tiny

And discreet

And played solitaire with my feet

I felt a tiny trickle of delight

And saw black dot run

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poem by Yvette Smith
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You

You make me laugh

The way you smile with your critical eyes

And point with your finger of wisdom

In the direction of mecca?

Or Ambrosia

Or some other foreign God

So you bending your rod

Bow

Down

At the high temple of pure wisdom

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poem by Yvette Smith
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A shallow heart

Shallow is the heart

That wears it's tears and smiles

That courts each wind of chance

In fleeting breaths

Undressed upon a rude stage

Shallow is the heart

That waltzes in the dark

And light

Who keeps a brute amused

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poem by Yvette Smith
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Angel Dust

They fall softly
Rain drops on petals
Soft wet blossom
Floating down
Wings of wind chime calling
Singing
memory and dreams scape
Dryads and sea nymph
Drift wood
And moonshine
footfall of roses
leaves a departure
fragments of love
points on an atlas
You carry your dreams
in your pocket
careful and carefree
Angel to ange
The sirens are singing
Drawn from the sea with a sigh

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poem by Yvette Smith
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True Love

I don't love you anymore

Cos I love me more!

It's I adore, not you!

He left, after admiring himself in the glass

But he didn't move very fast he was well over sixty two

And as he walked by, she knew,

His middle life crisis was well overdue

It happened at two, every day

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poem by Yvette Smith
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The mute singer

She cut out her tongue

So she could sing

Those unheard songs

sung

She cut out her tongue

So silently

She could unspeak herself

Free, from prison words

She cut out her tongue

So that her soul could catch the light

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poem by Yvette Smith
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Reading Me

There is a chance I will go unseen

Under the pattern of things

Swimming just beneath

Your distracted gaze

You will read me

At least this far

The space between

Eye to page

But I will go largely unnoticed

The secret is

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poem by Yvette Smith
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My Dear Dearest

My Dear, Dearest, Dear, [Oh dear dear me]

Are you too blind to see?

Far apart is the sea from the sky

And when did I last see you laugh?

And when did I last see you cry?

So far away

Does space divide?

The heart from the body?

It was so long ago

I saw you smile

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poem by Yvette Smith
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To the Trees

Nothing can tell me that the Trees don't love

In the first light of Autumn

Under golden mist

Of sun kissed days

Those leaves that turn and crunch

So crisp

These frosted memories

That slowly thaws beneath your feet

In oracles of golden russet crowns

That weave their fingers into clouds

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poem by Yvette Smith
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