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Best Poems Written by Ronald Smith

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

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A Brighter Tomorrow

For many years I went to sleep every night dreading tomorrow.  Because when 
tomorrow came that usually meant another love one is dying, died or been given 
the death sentence known as breast cancer.  But that was then and this is now.  
Now when I sleep because of pink I look to awake to a brighter tomorrow.   A 
brighter tomorrow where breast cancer is discovered early enough that everyone 
with it can be in remission and live a full healthy life.  A brighter tomorrow where 
the gene that causes the cancer can be removed so mothers don't have to worry 
whether or not their daughters will contract the disease.  A brighter tomorrow 
where husband like me don't have to watch the love of our life slow wilt and die 
but instead we get to grow old and gray with the one we love.  I dream of waking 
up in the morning and seeing the sun's yellow rays pink because this will 
symbolize a truly brighter tomorrow because they have found a cure and that day 
will truly be a brighter tomorrow for sure.

Details | Ronald Smith Poem

28 Days

America claims that all are created equal is the foundation that we’re built on.
Well, if that is true why Americans of African descent only get 28 days.
28 days to tell about great leaders, Such as, Harold Washington, General Colin 
Powell, Carol Mosley Braun and others. 28 days to talk about inventors like 
Lonnie Johnson the inventor of the Super Soaker, or Dr. Patricia Bath who 
invented a better surgery procedure for cataracts.  28 days to talk about writers 
and poets such as Dr. Maya Angelou, Rita Dove, Langston Hughes and hopefully 
one day soon myself Ronald Smith.  28 days is not nearly enough time to talk 
about these and other great American of African descent. Americans of African 
descent have fledged their foot prints in the soil of America since this country 
have been founded and if America’s foundation is all are created equal then we 
need the history of Americans of African descent to be talked about 365 days not 
just 28 days.

Details | Ronald Smith Poem

Thanksgiving 2006

It is thanksgiving 2006 let me see what I have to give thanks for.  I live in country 
that is in a war with no end in sight, and because of it racial profile is seen as 
being all right.  Thanks!  A country where if you a child molester but pretty then 
you don’t have go to jail and if you go to the airport they measure your hair gel. 
Thanks!  A country where if you a famous you can say you hate the Jews as long 
as you blame on booze.  Thanks!  A country where it’s says land free unless you 
an illegal Latin speaking immigrant.  Thanks!  A country where children are killing 
one another in street and at holiday time is the only time we give the hungry 
something good to eat.  Thanks!  Wow it is thanksgiving 2006 and what do I have 
to give thanks for….. nothing.  Thanks!

Details | Ronald Smith Poem

Tomorrow

In her bedroom, a women stands in front of a full-length mirror.  She has tears in 
her eyes.  She unbuttons her blouse and caresses her breast.  Now let us listen 
to her thoughts.
 'Tomorrow a cut of cold steel will take you away from me.  Tomorrow I will no 
longer be a whole woman.  I remember when you first became a part of me.  
From the first day you came, my life started to change.  My grandmother used to 
look at me and say, “You're becoming a little woman” Now tomorrow I'll once 
again become a little girl.  I also remember the first time that I made love, you 
were there.  He caressed and kissed you just as much as me.  Tomorrow I'll be 
a virgin again.  I guess this is goodbye, for tomorrow you will be removed so I will 
live longer; but also tomorrow a part of my womanhood will die.'

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Sunny Days

Sunny days keeping the clouds away I don’t what that means because ain’t no 
sunny days in these ghetto streets.  For I have seen the sky filled with bullets, 
smoke and despair, but sunny days in the ghetto they ain’t never been there.  And 
even if sunny days did come to ghetto how in the hell would we know?  We 
couldn’t recognize things we never seen from sunny days to hope and dreams.  
You see, in the ghetto hope turns into fear and dreams are just nightmares.  Now 
as for sunny days they only appear on Sesame Street.

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No More Tomorrows

About eighteen months ago my mother had one of her breast removed.  At first 
she was very depressed.  She thought she was no longer a whole woman, but 
six months later she came alive again.  Mom realized her breast isn’t what 
makes her a woman.   Now, I thought the operation was supposed to cure mom, 
but she’s once again fading away.  Dad told me that pretty soon mom will be 
going up to heaven.  That means pretty soon, I’ll have no more tomorrows.

No more tomorrows will I awake and hear her beautiful voice singing.

No more tomorrows will I feel her warm embrace?

No more tomorrows will I see the angelic smile that adorns her face?

No more tomorrows will she be there to say comforting words to ease my pain?

No more tomorrows will she be there to cheer when they call my name?

No more tomorrows will she be there to kiss my cheek before I go asleep.

No more tomorrows will she be there to dry my tears when I weep.

I’m not sure what breast cancer is but I know it is evil.  For it is taking away my 
loving mother, and filling my heart with sorrow.

Because of breast cancer I’ll soon be left with no more tomorrows.

Details | Ronald Smith Poem

A New Tomorrow

Six months ago when she stood in front of her mirror she thought here life was 
over.  But as she stands there today looking at herself instead of tears of sorrow 
there are tears of joy running down her cheeks.  Just listen to what she thinks of 
herself now.  I thought because my breast was removed I would no longer be a 
whole woman.  How wrong I was.  I’m still the same beautiful intelligent woman 
without my breast.  I also thought my husband wouldn’t want to be intimate with 
me.  How wrong I was.  He actually holds me closer and more gently than 
before.  And when we’re intimate each time is like the first time we made love.  I 
can’t believe that I thought that my next hungry child would starve just because I 
had one of my breast removed.  How wrong I was.  My next child won’t only 
hunger for food but my child will also hunger for love and I don’t need both of my 
breast to love my child.  Yes, six months ago because of breast cancer a part of 
my womanhood did die, but it has been resurrected and I have a new tomorrow 
because I finally realize my breast isn’t what makes me a woman but what I have 
inside does.  And inside I’m all woman.

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Unquenched

Last night you gave me all you had to ease my thirst, yet my thirst remains 
unquenched.  For ten minutes after we were through I still thirsted for you.  I still 
thirst for your kisses, your touch and all the passion that you release when we're 
intimate.  From the animal like sound you make to your fingernails digging deep 
into back. If you could take it I'd be intimate with you every hour of the day for the 
rest of our life, and even that wouldn't be enough.  I'd still desire you, crave you 
and thirst for you even after we have parted from this life.  When it comes to you to 
much is never enough.  Forever and always my thirst for you will be unquenched.

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I'M Afraid

Son you told me yesterday that most of your life you thought I treated you as if you 
were never good enough for me to call son.  Well, son I might have yelled at you
and ignored you, but it wasn't because I did not think you were good enough to
call son.  But because I'm afraid I'm not good enough for you to call me dad.  
I'm afraid because I your father only have a 6 grade education and you on the 
other hand are about to graduate from college.  Also, I'm afraid because I who
work like a dog only make enough money to barely pay my bills.  While you are
about to get a job that will earn you enough money to pay your bills and mine,
and still have money left-over.  I'm afraid because one day you'll became a father 
yourself, and I'll pale in comparison.  A father is supposed to be his son hero,
but instead you're mine.  Not good enough for me to call son, never!  But I'm 
afraid the one day you'll see that I'm not worthy of you call me dad.  That is what
I'm afraid of.

Details | Ronald Smith Poem

Talking Walls

I just took a half fifth of E&J to the neck.  Now as the liquor burns my throat and 
my head starts to spin the walls begin to talk to me.  They say you say you love 
life so why are you cutting yours short.  With all the smoking, drinking and the 
losing of your temper you going to have a stroke and die before you’re forty.  I 
cover my ears trying to block out the voices of the talking walls, but instead of 
muffling the voices my hands over my ears seem to amplify the talking walls.  If 
you don’t change your ways you’ll never live to see your son become a man or 
your daughter become an independent woman the walls tell me.  I scream out 
shut up and then I past out to sleep. As I awake the next morning I see my puke 
all over the walls, but it’s not just puke it’s a message telling me the walls last 
night told me the truth when they talked to me.