Best Smith Poems
Hot date
Can’t wait
We're at
My flat
Cute eyes
Nice thighs
Admit
She’s fit
So sweet
Must eat
We dine
Sublime
First Kiss
Sheer bliss
Soft peck
On neck
Tongue's twirl
Toes curl
First base
Hearts race
Undressed
Bare breast
Blimey
She’s ‘HE’
No joy
Ladyboy
Fussy
Pussy
Night ends
As friends
Written by Jan Allison & Tim Smith
28th August 2014
I sit here and ponder the days that have past
The many loves that I had, that just didn’t last.
One really sticks out, wish I had another chance
Treating her so differently, I’d show her romance.
I loved once a man, who just wanted to play
At being romantic .life was just foreplay.
Thought a kiss would be enough for his turtle dove
Not thinking about feelings, whether I wanted love.
We would start a family, having a baby or two
We’d live on the hillside, with a beautiful view,
We’d grow old together in the home that we build
Giving my life meaning, I’d be so fulfilled.
He now thinks that he wants me, I am the one
to fill up his heart to make me his own.
Promising me a home on a hillside with a view
Yet he hasn’t vowed that he would be true.
I’d hold her and cherish her til the day we depart
I’d profess to her my love and give her my heart
Romantic nights on that hill gazing up at the moon
Our days filled with laughter, frolicking in the lagoon
Sure he now promises me love for ever after
A life of joy, happiness and full of laughter
On that hillside we’d sit, watching the world go by,
A family, two dogs at our feet, kissing loneliness goodbye.
Penned by Tim Smith and Seren
Why oh Why
A Collaboration between Seren Roberts, Tim Smith and Arthur Vaso
Poem inspired by Seren Roberts
Each poem written from a different view
The Murderer
The Murdered
The Mannequins who witnesses the crime
Why of Why
Lovers Die
Mannequins Cry
Sat, with his head in his hands
Remembering how love had once been,
Now, because of his stupidity
He was on his own, solitary again
Remembering, how love had been,
Behind the bars he now calls home
He was on his own as before and again,
Realizing, he was such a petty bitter fool
Behind the bars he now calls home
His mind, aflame with tears of regret
Realizing he was an utter fool,
To have stabbed her to death in a bloody pool
His mind aflame, with deep regret
Why... did he buy a knife that day...why?
To have stabbed her to death
Cause she had given love another try.
Oh how he wishes, its he that had died
Lovers Die
I linger with the scent of flowers
cascading over what was once spring showers
Your red hands drip passion
long since cooled
darkness surrounding you has lifted
and only I can see the light
Why couldn't you leave
a girl clamoring to be free
dressed in a burnt orange skirt
driven to the stake with your hurt
Words were written on the wall
but all you did was erase it all
Twisted as the knife turns
in a cell your hell burns
Mannequins Cry
We have no faces
We have no voices
You think we have no feelings
You see us as objects in commercial spaces
We saw the hidden knife unfold
We saw the young ones stabbed so bold
Pain is the emotion that frightens us all
Mannequins crying, tears running as we see her crawl
When the blood flowed
When the redness of hate showed
We with no faces
Shed tears at the human disgraces
Such young love so brutally robbed
By the jealous and lonely one, made us all sob
He regrets I am sure the hate that overflowed
Life's so torn it can't be sown
Written by Tim Smith and Seren Roberts
Across the room I slowly walk
Hips swaying, smile in place
Sensually I use my body to talk
Holding out my hands to touch his face
Here she comes, walking my way
Beauty and grace, with a smile in place
Look at her swing, look at her sway
Oh how I want to kiss that sweet face
Gently I bring his face close to mine
Looked into his eyes, desire written there
Hungrily kiss his lips, they feel divine
I stroke his neck, ruffling his hair
She pulls me in, much to my surprise
Aromatic perfume, she's heaven sent
Glow to her face, twinkle in her eyes
Her touches so sweet, I must be a gent
Crooking my finger he follows at last
I wait til his body is close to mine
Slowly I turn, my heart beating fast
Look on his face is saying all is fine.
Following close when she calls to me
Feelings so strong, feelings so right
My heart beating fast, she sets me free
Our heat steaming up, on this brisk night
Just goes to prove with a smile and a sway
A gal can entice a guy in a seductive way
Now I ask you this
A more common name you will not find
Cities have thousands of them
Small towns have at least one
Why pretty much everywhere you go
You will find a Mr. Smith
Why once in china
In the middle of nowhere
This old Chinese man came out of his hut
Shook my hand
Said , Ni Hoa me Mr. Smith
I was truly and duly shocked
Being a Smith, he made me tea and served me lunch
Go to any hockey game and I will tell you this
In the stands
There will be 1000's and more
of Smiths, Mr. and Misses and all manner of Smiths
Why even the Montreal Canadians have one!!!
Now if you turn around, there will be a smith behind
The odds say this is true, and thankfully for all,
To hold a door open
To help an old lady across the street
The Smiths are gods angels
Lending a helping hand
Love and good cheer, you know a smith is near
Now you may ask me how I know all this to be true
The answer is quite simple you see
I know a Tim Smith
A kinder man you will not find
A family that loves him
Friends that appreciate him
A tavern that knows him by first name
Someone who always buys me a DRINK!!!!
A man of loyalty this is for sure
What else explains a Blackhawks fan?
So I tip my hat to my friend Tim
I raise a glass of good cheer and salute
To a family man of honor
With a heart of gold for those lucky enough
To know Him
Cheers
I wrote a poem of despair
My hearts been tossed up into the air
She wrote a limerick that was taboo
She made me laugh when I was so blue
Entering stage left was Tim
Writing of past lovers sins in a hymn
It seems that we laugh or we cry
We live, we love, or we die
The three of us, holding poetic swords up high
Throughout the ages we all do fly
No subject goes unspoken
For the freedom of words we've awoken
No battle to long or too fierce
Our duels are true and unrehearsed.
Through blood, sweat and tears
A bond so strong that sweetens the years
All for one and one for all
Let us carry on and have a ball!
Tim's poem, Hello Sorrow, was the incentive for my continuance of the sorrowful emotion in Hello Grief.
Hello Sorrow
There you are old friend—
I knew that you were here
wrapped alone beside desolation
hidden deep amongst despair
Hello my sorrow there you lie—
in the wallow of disdain
shun me forth in misery
regret infused past pain
~ ~ ~
Hello Grief
Here you are once again
I knew you would return
as a shadow of my sorrow
when for her arms I yearn
Hello grief, my haunting friend
ghostly memory of my heartache
how long will you remain
for a love I must forsake
THE DITCH BECAME ABYSS:
Collaboration with Tim Smith
When I was here
All the music sang lalala
I only saw your eyes
When you were here
All the words read you you you
and all made sense
When we were here
In a different life, the river flowed
rippling love around us
Now without a we
No longer captured in a breeze
The ditch became abyss
Now without you here
All my days are blue blue blue
and my senses darken too
Now without me here
my head is spinning round round round
no longer seeing out clouded eyes
***
January 4, 2016
Tim Smith
Darren White
Coach Dad
It is a magic time when a child ventures
Into the world, spreading wings,
Beginning the oft painful process
of moving from the nest to the sky.
And it is a fragile time, where first experiences
Weigh heavily on shaping the direction
In which young life begins to move
And often whether it moves at all
It is a trying time, of fear and nervousness
One little step out on their own
The start of something bold and beautiful
The molding of a young child's eye
Much is made of parents and peers,
Oft unaddressed is the role of others
Teachers and coaches, a collective entity
Not dissimilar from fathers and mothers
The torch of responsibility being passed
If only for a brief moment
No more clinging to the safety and comfort
of what is already a norm and known
Encouragement or unkind words
So often a matter of chance and moods
Have mighty impacts on growing hearts
Precious opportunities to help a growing life
Young minds and hearts right on the surface
We remember our coaches, good and bad
Caring or not, patience or none,
The struggles, thin times and thick
A team of seven year olds
Is not unlike a litter of unruly puppies
How will they ever pay attention?
Give them a ball, a glove, and a game!
Pride, courage, athleticism, self-confidence
All showcased for the world to see
Taking turns and building bonds
Grasping much more than a newfound skill
If you can stand to be measured,
and fail by that measure, even repeatedly
But come back from it, you'll forever have
One more vital skill in life’s toolbox
One youngster will not win the game alone
But the team can, and its joy
Is multiplied many times over.
All these things and more can be taught.
Whether it be on the field or off
Teamwork, respect and camaraderie
Will forever be entrenched in the mind
Of a well instructed boy or girl
5/4/16
© Tom Quigley and Tim Smith
Terrific charmer,blessed and gifted
Invincible love fulfills his heart
Modesty is a reflection of his beliefs
Super dad and souper spice
Master of words and muses
Incredibly kind to all others
Trustworthy and truthful friend
Heartwarming!His sweet gentility
reaches our soul.
Dedicated to Tim Smith
Happy Birthday Sweet Sixteen : )
on the 3rd of December 2014!
I love to feel the water
As it cascades over my face,
I love to feel you touch me
Through my satin and lace
I'm needing to be engulfed
In the waters falling fast
I'm needing your embrace
Our time will forever last.
I love the tingling feeling
As it sprays across my spine
Setting ,my senses reeling
Like bubbly sparkling wine.
The rushing of the stream
Getting all my juices going
The passions that I scream
It's power keeps on flowing
I love how I feel inside
As we make love beneath that fall
The nerve ends set a tingling
The passion says it all.
Let me come make your fantasy real
I'll drown in your passionate kiss
We'll get close. we'll touch we'll feel
Forever this day, we'll reminisce
Penned 21 September 2014 by Tim Smith and Seren Roberts
Candles in the wind
Time blows within our hearts
when young ones leave our nest
we love the memories, but feel a little less
life is not a dream, it's a test
Waking, to the calls of morn
alone, a coffee and with buttered scone
on the windowsill I sit
observing the empty nest
they've flown away, is natures way
my heart yearns for time to never stray
I wish the phone would ring, does anyone care
if only there would be someone calling
whose caress would say "I'm there"
When love is all you ever knew
being alone tears and burns all through
My candle flickers, it's wick softly glows
while i watch them fly to where the current blows
be safe little mourning doves, I wait for you at home
TO FULLY UNDERSTAND THIS POEM PLEASE READ BRONTE INSPIRATION 1, 2 and 3
Little Patrick in the nursery playing with his toys
Asks ''MUM'' can I have a sister like the other girls and boy ?
His friends have told him in playschool about their expanding families
Our little boy wants a sibling and we are only too happy to please
With every waking moment , we climb those Bronte stairs
Or get cosy on the sofa, the foot stools and easy chairs
We felt that we had tried so hard and we had little left to give
The doctor told us that our test had come back positive
We are so very blessed Patrick’s a lovely little boy
He looks just like his daddy; he is our pride and joy
Despite the fact he’s young and only just aged three
He is so excited at the expected addition to the family
Only yesterday he brought me his favourite teddy
Put it in the nursery for when the time is ready
He would love a sister and has chosen a lovely name
I’ve told him to be patient we must play the waiting game.
Patrick often cuddles up and touches your tummy
Says ' I can feel her growing inside you mummy '
His much loved chicken nuggets he shares with you
Come on mum , you know you've got to eat for two
We giggle as Patrick’s patience grows shorter
I'm just hoping that we have a beautiful daughter
He wants a sister with every ounce of his heart
I'm praying that we can do our part.
The time for the birth is now drawing near
With you by my side I have nothing to fear
Patrick is due to stay with his little friend
To keep him amused on them we depend
Finally the waters break and the baby is on it way
We hurry to the hospital we have waited for this day
At last the baby arrives she has such a lovely face
Patrick’s name is so apt for her, so we have named her Grace
We take care to involve our son in all we try to do
Taking every opportunity to inspire hearts and minds a new
Our children have their moments and sometimes they misbehave
With love and careful guidance, we have a million memories to save
So many children's giggles and demonstrations of love and care
We give thanks to God for the happiness we share
We've ensured the Bronte house is a happy love filled place
A sanctuary of our own for our children Patrick and Grace
13th June 2014
Written by Jan Allison & Darren Watson
TO FULLY UNDERSTAND THIS POEM PLEASE READ MY POEM 'NOT QUITE
WONDER WOMAN' AND TIM SMITH'S POEM A CALL TO BLUNDERWOMAN
Hey Tim’s kids get off your tush
Your dad is baking something lush
He’s made a massive tray of cake
Do the washing up for goodness sake
Then he’s going to mow the lawn
Poor guy’s been up since the crack of dawn
Then he will tackle the all the weeding
While you shout out ‘dad we need feeding’
So give your dad a lovely break
Surprise him with a special cake
I’d give you a hand but I’m not free
But please send a slice to me
Get off the x box and have some fun
Play in the park or go for a run
If dad is busy then give me a call
And Blunderwoman will scare you all
Then you will appreciate you dad
For Blunderwoman is really bad
She will fill your head with dread and fear
So do me a favour pour your dad a cold beer
Sit him down in front of the telly
With lots of food and wobbly jelly
Give him hugs and a special treat
Now he can relax and put up his feet
Jan Allison
3rd August 2014
Tim. Your latest poems stirred the memory of this one I recently penned.
I stumble down a street, cobbled with broken dreams,
hobbled by those memories chained around my heart.
Tears glisten as they're captured by silver moonbeams
tossed from Luna's fair hand as mine are gently caught.