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Best Poems Written by Jonathan Smith

Below are the all-time best Jonathan Smith poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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The Great Lakes Ace

Above, a few feet,
From the gallery
Archaeologists spotted the empty space
Larger than the cross off M-68 by about 3 times
But they aren't the only ones exploring a void
Ancient like the pyramids is empty in the chest of the boys
Digging up the artifacts of time
Hidden in your lines
That I write
And when we collide
It's like a land mine
Hid in the jungle near a pyramid where
Built between rivers
2 shrines to weary livers and lovers
Whether its desert or monsoon weather,
When it's winter
You will be there
Somewhere in the hardware store
Picking out the tools you need
To dig more deeply
In the spaces left between
Or to mend that stupid leak

Copyright © Jonathan Smith | Year Posted 2019

Details | Jonathan Smith Poem

Wisdom, Justice and Moderation

There's construction on 400
Bed rolls under the junction
Lights passing overhead
Eyes shut but never rested

With the film money rolling in,
New homes are built
With the overpass covering,
some are sheltered from the rain

Underneath 85,
Just south of city lights
are those still trudging through life
Bed roll, holding dog close for the warmth to survive

Copyright © Jonathan Smith | Year Posted 2019

Details | Jonathan Smith Poem

Bicycle

01/07/18
First time riding a bike
Training wheels off
Imagined the dirt that I was gonna bite
I begged my mom- please don't let go
My body screaming, terrified
Same voice that's creeping
In the back of my mind
Seeking excuses,
Grasping at reasons to not try
Even the things that I like
I only just have to look back
My mom is now five feet behind
And into the distance, I ride

Copyright © Jonathan Smith | Year Posted 2019

Details | Jonathan Smith Poem

DeparTure

Seperate hemispheres gone dutch
Right hand, left brain
Get another rush
Left hand, right brain
Get another buzz
Often it's a medicine
Keeping your eyes open
Or 
Acting as a sedative
Fluids for the sleep
Leaves from a tree
Just to feel at ease
Quality time with capital T
Chain to stay awake
Or sleeping through the day
Non-compliance with how the doctor medicates
But its medicine that we take
Another party scene
Two in the last week
Hanging out, friends- with drinks
Maintaining relationships with THC
When my liver dries up
Or your brain goes to mush
You'll find out why we
Ingest all these things
And if the right could speak,
Would we more easily
Solve the left's mysteries of speech
And why you can't tell me what we really need

Copyright © Jonathan Smith | Year Posted 2019

Details | Jonathan Smith Poem

Goldenrod

Metro Louisville streets, the promise of a stiff drink
A 20 sack of weed
Heavy blankets in the back when I need to dream
Hand warmers from Dollar Tree
A few one dollar can teas.
Its week three,
Flattened in the back seat
In the winter, freezing
Swiping left and right for warm sheets and a release
Tonight I wont worry about where I will sleep
I only packed enough food for a week
Eating is a treat

Copyright © Jonathan Smith | Year Posted 2019

Details | Jonathan Smith Poem

Celsus- A Guide to Humors for the treatment of Melancholia

Rubbing my newly bald head
Shaved it off the other day
As the doctors suggested
Who am I to disobey
Sometimes the treatments helped
But not today
Got home from driving
I still felt a little sad
So I got to flogging
And that was that
Now that I'm sore
I'll just relax
When I start laughing
I hear cymbals crash
But when I'm crying
I'd rather laugh
When the joke needs someone to be the butt,
I'm the ass
Life is a comedy
As far as I can tell
When it gets funny
Give me a yell
Okay, okay
I know I give you hell

Copyright © Jonathan Smith | Year Posted 2019

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An Admission of Guilt

Glinting of the nickel
Flip it, place it on the table
Relegate to gravity
That of fate- of destiny
In the end 
It's a choice
To accept 
Or avoid
After the flip,
Do you obey it
Pull back the hammer 
To strike the steel with flint
It's still a choice
Drop hands from wheel, place them by your side
Watch the blurring treeline, shifting away my eyes
I've certainly lied
Proxies for good faith
I've blurred those lines
It's still a choice

Copyright © Jonathan Smith | Year Posted 2019

Details | Jonathan Smith Poem

Sister Perugia and the FA Cup

Exit gate C opened up,
And the followers flood
Turnstiles overcrowding,
And fallen ticket stubs
A namesake for the estate
Just off of 23,
On the way to my place
In the southern United States
We've been distant, 
More than I envisioned,
But I invent connections the whole drive down.
I think in 2014, 
when I was 18 or 19,
A midwestern soundtrack
For late night soccer and drinks
Triple C highs
And Red uniforms in extra time
World Cup in the breakroom
In between classes at school
Another cup of coffee and a bet in the pool
I didn't know much back then,
I only liked the color red.
I didn't know what the number on the sleeves meant.
Exit gate C opened up
A capacity influx
And the following crush
Now a cup match, memorialized
For the 96 that died, 
Guilt heavy in my heart,
For a shameful valuation of life
I think, sometimes, that you catch me staring in your yards some nights. 
But I just need to relate, 
To some degree,
A measure of pain
Briefly, I commiserate 
Before the rest of my complaints
Turn into the same songs I heard on darker days
But this distance isn't quite so great
When put into context, the hours spent awake-
You and I, writing similar lines
I can lie on my bed, 
Close my eyes and project 
I can see the Midwestern home project store,
I can see the terraces of a stadium filling up with more,
I can see 23,
The same way that you can see me.

Copyright © Jonathan Smith | Year Posted 2019

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Yen in Reverse

Two finger salute
They do a little dance
Gotta wash your hands
Two finger salute
Chew a piece of gum
Freshen up some
Two finger salute
Maladaptive solution
For a funhouse illusion
Two finger salute
I saw you through a mirror
Late in the night
Staring at myself so long
I saw through to the other side
You were combing your hair
You were brushing your teeth
I picture you reading in the den
With some food on the table
Picking up your pen
And writing
After a two finger salute

Copyright © Jonathan Smith | Year Posted 2019

Details | Jonathan Smith Poem

85

Everything that was expected from me
Wilting like the wreaths
Perfectly placed near the scene
But the flowers are not for me
Everything that was expected of you
A storyline that I had drafted too soon
And I feel guilty for the things I do
I'll shut my eyes before we meet at high noon
Expectation dies in a shot or two
But the liquor doesn't seem to soothe
Not the way it used to
I've been thirsting too much for you.

Copyright © Jonathan Smith | Year Posted 2019

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