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Verity Smith Poem
3 people in a room
Each doing their own thing
I wonder what each of them think?
The boy playing computer football,
"Save the game! Now!"
"What is she doing writing? The Poof!"
"Mams falling asleep again!"
The girl scribbling to herself,
"That'll never work, I'll rewrite it."
"I don't see the appeal of virtual football.."
"Why does mother keep looking at me like that?"
The woman sitting on the sofa,
"The cat looks so adorable!"
"That bloody computer clicking is annoying!"
"That girl is writing again, whats wrong with her?!"
If each of them could hear
the others thoughts, would they be offended?
Or do you think they already know?
Copyright © Verity Smith | Year Posted 2010
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Verity Smith Poem
The scribble of pen on paper
The low rumble of hushed voices
The shuffle of people walking by
The tapping of keys on a keyboard
The rustle of turning pages
The hum of lights above me
The tap of subconscious fingers
The whizz of cars passing by
The clip of opening and closing binders
The thunk of a mug landing on desk
The buzz of the bees outside
The screech of seagulls over the shore
The chink of the hole-punch
The glug of a water bottle
The crash of waves against the sand
The bells of laughter in the distance
Lifes Natural Rhythm.
Copyright © Verity Smith | Year Posted 2010
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Verity Smith Poem
I have my first cider
Look at you
Swanning around like you own the place
Swigging your drink
I have my second cider
Your fancy talk
You brag all the time, can't you shut up?
Your voice is annoying
I have my third cider
I'll bear you
Just for now I'll bite my tongue
For tonight only
I have my fourth cider
That was funny
You are capable of having a sense of humour
That's a surprise
I have my fifth cider
Dance with you?
I suppose I could allow myself that
Lets dance together
I have my sixth cider
Kiss me again
Your lips and your tongue are on fire
I like it
I have my seventh cider
Ok, Yeah, lets
You're fun. You're attractive. You're sexy,
Why shouldn't we?
I have a hangover
Where am I?
What am I doing, like this, with you?
What happened last night?
Copyright © Verity Smith | Year Posted 2010
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Verity Smith Poem
Lost, so Lost. And Alone. And Scared.
I had to constantly be around people,
who had no idea what went on in my head.
Nobody understood. Especially not at school.
In class those stupid teachers only talked.
One day it got too much. I lost my temper.
It was quiet. The teacher was talking.
I couldn't take it anymore. I stood up.
I shouted. I screamed. I stopped.
I gasped. I ran. I sat. I cried.
But then I looked up, and there,
in front of me, he stood. He sat down
beside me. He put his arm around me.
He let me cuddle in to him and cry.
He let me vent my anger and my pain.
I was not lost anymore.
I was not alone anymore.
I was not scared anymore.
He understood, he was always there.
And I am thankful for it everyday.
Copyright © Verity Smith | Year Posted 2010
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Verity Smith Poem
People ask me,
"Why do you write?"
"Who do you write for?"
I think,
I write for myself,
to vent my emotions
to tell a story
to spread a message
to calm myself
I write for poets,
who enjoy reading
who need inspiration
who like to encourage
who try to find similarity
I write for you,
to tell you how I feel
to send hidden messages
to make you feel good
to show what you meant to me
I say,
"I dunno, I just like to write"
Copyright © Verity Smith | Year Posted 2010
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Verity Smith Poem
A dark street,
lamps casting out only dim pools of light.
A lone figure,
slowly makes their way down the street.
Occasionally illuminated,
their appearance can be vaguely seen.
A mans figure,
swathed in a brown raincoat, hat pulled low.
Hands in pockets.
He walks in silence, his face unseen.
He stops walking,
perhaps reaching an unseen point or marker.
He takes a picture,
from his pocket, gazes at it, then puts it back.
His other hand,
he lifts up, he checks his watch once, then again.
He sighs deeply,
he looks around, then looks to the ground.
He turns back,
and walks away, in the direction he came from.
He never looks back,
as he makes his way down the empty street.
He ambles away,
heading into the distance, his figure slowly vanishes.
Copyright © Verity Smith | Year Posted 2010
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Verity Smith Poem
Chilly March evening,
The Lion loves the lamb,
A Crocus cannot compare
to the sweetness of
lucky Lamb.
Lions love refreshes
Lamb like a gust of wind.
The Lamb feels like
she could soar,
like a kite through the air.
Copyright © Verity Smith | Year Posted 2010
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Verity Smith Poem
I am the delicate,
interlaced snowflake,
that lies beneath your feet.
I am but a solitary,
grain of worn down sand,
taken by the tide.
I am a star,
one of many celestial bodies,
that illuminate your night.
I am one in a million.
Copyright © Verity Smith | Year Posted 2010
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Verity Smith Poem
Blood red sunset,
sinks below the horizon,
reflects off the ocean,
creating a sea of pain.
Today is being pushed away,
closer to yesterday,
clearing the way for tomorrow.
Copyright © Verity Smith | Year Posted 2010
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Verity Smith Poem
"click to chat"
*click*
"I'm really sorry"...
... Backspace
"I have to tell you"...
... Backspace
"I think you are"...
... Backspace
"I hate you"...
... Backspace
"I love you"...
... Backspace
.....
"You up to much?"
Copyright © Verity Smith | Year Posted 2010
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