Secret

Did you even know that?
I bet you never did.
You probably thought the opposite
since you were just a kid.

Had they ever told you?
I bet they never had.
You never really questioned
since you heard it from your Dad.

Could you quite believe it?
I bet you barely could.
Something so incredible
was almost lost for good.

Have you ever wondered
if there was even more?
A galaxy of secrets
in the box under the floor.

(c) Andrew Halsall Smith, 2018 

A Sense of Urgency

What do you see, my little hero,
in the garden of your mind?
Blossoms dancing on a breeze
and grasses you can hide behind:
let me share in what you find.

What do you smell, my little hero,
in the kitchen of your soul?
Bagels warming in the oven,
chocolate melting in a bowl,
the smokey hiss of drips on coal.

What do you touch, my little hero,
with the fingers of your nap?
Smoothness of a cotton dream,
around which dreamy limbs will wrap
and catch you in a sleepy trap.

What do you taste, my little hero,
in the milk of morning press?
Information pouring in
with each fresh gulp of creaminess
and nothing wasted, more or less.

What do you hear, my little hero,
in the music of your heart?
Violins blend into drumrolls
as cymbals wrench the peace apart,
just waiting for the songs to start.


(c) Andrew Halsall Smith, 2018 

Peace Of Mind

They can read the disappointment
in the lines upon my face.
They can sense in my deportment
how I've tried to carry it with grace.

Now I'm cutting the ties that bind,
I'm leaving the past behind
I won't do it in a flourish
As it's taking a pool of courage
that I never really thought I'd ever find.

They say I'm swimming in confusion,
my aching limbs will soon be sore.
They think my quest is an illusion
and my renaissance is a flaw.

But I'm cutting the ties that bind
these tangles I must unwind,
and there's only one string to sever
before I drift away forever
to a place where I might get some peace of mind.


(c) Andrew Halsall Smith, 2018

Honest Directions

Mama never went to college
but she had wit and wisdom undefined,
a trolley of everyday knowledge
that she would shyly disappear behind.

Mama was walking through the city
when a group of students stopped to ask directions:
"How can we get to the University?"
they politely asked at the intersection.

Mama answered - sharp, succinct, precise -
and caught these intellectuals off-guard.
They grinned respect for her mature advice:
"You must study hard, folks, study hard!"


(c) Andrew Halsall Smith, 2018

Halfway here, halfway there

From the first to the thirtieth,
it is a deep demand.
Now, halfway there,
I am trying to understand
why my poetry is weakening,
as tired as my hand.

Still, being halfway, here,
is a proud enough place to stand:
this adventure is exciting
and the mission grand.
The long ascent has been a challenge
but from this peak I see the land
and from the first to the thirtieth
the path is mine; as planned.


(c) Andrew Halsall Smith, 2018

Mystery of Miss Terry

There's something undead in Miss Terry,
it's clear as unclear are her eyes.
There's a demon within her,
a terrible sinner
intent on such shock and surprise.
Yes, there's something possessing Miss Terry.

We have to exorcise Miss Terry.
She cannot be wandering untracked,
the street is no place
for a zombie to pace
in its heinous carnivorous act.
How can we recover Miss Terry?

Only one thing can rescue Miss Terry,
And we found the right magical cure:
we needed no Pope,
just laid-off the dope
and late-night TV servings of gore!
In future, we'll know the mystery -
there was nothing possessing Miss Terry.

(c) Andrew Halsall Smith, 2018

Writer To Writer

You wield that pen to liberate your mind,
I'm caught in fear and sometimes left behind.

       You? A maestro with this score of words? 

       I find your lack of confidence absurd. 

You are the mirror image of myself,
an outlet to promote our common health.

       Indeed, and I am proud to be your friend, 

       Without you what is there to comprehend?

Why do I think of Durden, come
to carry pain this burdensome?

        No, think instead of Ipkiss, and recall

        That romance isn't hopeless at all.

     
You are the brave, inventive pioneer.
I'm sometimes left behind or caught in fear.

        I'm only you, and ours is void critique.

        Now, let's find our voice of confidence, and speak.

De la vue ci-dessus

The dandelions are everywhere
Les enfants sont partout
The clover bounces in the sun
Et sous leurs pieds mous

The tree stands like their father
Un père avec bras verts
Trying to protect them
Ses protégés couvert

The day rolls out above them
Le soleil réchauffe l'air
Yet every dusk reminds him of
Les temps laissé derrière

And when the summer withers
Si ses souvenirs sont perdu
The daisies will still be everywhere
Endormis et ingénus


(c) Andrew Halsall Smith, 2018

Alternative Love Poem

I enrolled you on a mission
To repair my broken heart,
But I showed you scant contrition
When your own one fell apart.

I watched you make arrangements
At the cinema and gym,
Cancelling engagements
You had meant to share with him.

I implied the depth I cared for you
In a convoluted way.
A truth confused, impaired for you:
Just enough to make you stay.

Of course, we shared some pleasure
In these intervening times.
Still, what dark in equal measure
Has been worth my secret crimes?

I took your love for granted
And, to my eternal shame,
Left an honest man supplanted
By my reckless, hollow game.

In those heady days together
We were the envy of the school,
And for then – if not forever –
You were quite my April Fool.

(c) Andrew Halsall Smith 2018