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Best Poems Written by Sharon Smith

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

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Dreaming With Butterflies


FLUTTER BY                                                                                  BUTTERFLY

DANCE YOUR WAY                                                                  ACROSS THE SKY

WITH YOUR TISSUE PAPER WINGS     THOSE     DELICATE AND DAINTY THINGS

FLASH WITH COLOURS OH SO BRIGHT   STILL    SHINING IN THE MORNING LIGHT

NATURE’S GREATEST WORK OF ART        IT        CANNOT HELP BUT STIR THE HEART

TO SEE THIS SPLENDID CREATURE        IS        THEIR NOT A BETTER FEATURE

OF THE BRITISH SUMMERTIME        THAN        SUCH AN INSECT SO DEVINE

EVER VIVID ALWAYS TRUE        OH I        KEEP THE BRIGHTEST HUE

WRAPPED INSIDE MY MEMORY         FOR        HARDER TIMES AHEAD OF ME

WHEN I’M IN NEED OF A SMILE        I’LL        STOP AND RECOLLECT A WHILE

THE BUTTERFLY’S HAPPY DANCE        AND        WITHIN MY PEACEFUL TRANCE

I FIND A SENSE OF CONTENT        AT        THE SUMMER THAT I SPENT

DREAMING                           WITH                       BUTTERFLIES

Details | Sharon Smith Poem

Spoonfang the Pudding Vampire

In the middle of the night,
When the moon shines bright, 
A creature stirs with a terrible bite, 
And his name is Spoonfang.

This vampire with a spoony face,
Has developed quite the taste,
For creatures of the pudding race,
Has the greedy Spoonfang.

So when the stars through dark clouds peek,
Into the kitchen he will creep,
And a tasty snack he’ll sneak,
Will the crafty Spoonfang.

Mousse and trifle, cake of cheese,
Ice-cream left in the deep freeze,
He’s had a bite of each of these,
Has the naughty Spoonfang.

But tonight he’s set his eyes,
Not on mother’s tasty pies,
But on Gran’s birthday surprise,
A gateau all for Spoonfang.

And so he creeps along the floor,
Tip-toes to the kitchen door,
But someone else is there before,
The bold and daring Spoonfang.

Count Spatula! The greatest Pudding Vampire of them all!

Both the vampires get a fright,
Their screams echo through the night,
And someone switches on the light,
On Spatula and Spoonfang.

Mother tuts and shakes her head,
Sends son and father back to bed,
Neither vampire has been fed,
Not Spatula nor Spoonfang.

Maybe there’s a little Pudding vampire in all of us!

Details | Sharon Smith Poem

Oh Uhura - To Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah

There was a Starship Enterprise,
It was the ruler of the skies,
But you don't really care for sci-fi, do you?
With Captain Kirk
And Mr Spock
And don’t forget the trademark jock,
And there upon the bridge you’ll find Uhura

Oh Uhura, Oh Uhura 
Oh Uhura, Oh Uhura

You’ll find Bones Macoy down in sickbay,
“I’m a doctor Jim” he’d say,
And cure whatever space bug ran through you,
He’ll banish away every cough,
Even if your name’s Chekov,
Or perhaps you might be sweet Uhura

Oh Uhura, Oh Uhura
Oh Uhura, Oh Uhura

To make the starship up and go,
The man you really need to know,
Is the Helm officer called Sulu,
But if it’s a message you’d like to send,
Then of course you can depend,
Upon the talented Miss Uhura,

Oh Uhura, Oh Uhura
Oh Uhura, Oh Uhura

Your voyage lasted three short years
But despite the trekkie’s fears,
It wouldn’t be the last time that we’d view you,
Of feature films there’d be twelve,
Before the franchise they would shelve,
But we won’t forget you dear Uhura

Oh Uhura, Oh Uhura
Oh Uhura, Oh Uhura
Oh Uhura, Oh Uhura
Oh Uhura, Oh Uhura

Oh Uhura

Details | Sharon Smith Poem

Leonard Nimoy

Leonard Nimoy (Mr Spock),
His music career quite ad hoc,
Sang of Bilbo in sixty eight,
With his fringe still Vulcan straight.

Details | Sharon Smith Poem

The Magpie and the Butterfly, a Terzanelle

I look out upon a lonely Magpie,
I feel a great stirring deep in my heart,
As he gracefully glides across the sky.

He’s always searching for his other part,
The Butterfly to whom he gave his soul,
I feel a great stirring deep in my heart.

But he does not know that he is still whole,
Even when apart she is still with him,
The Butterfly to whom he gave his soul.

For that’s what love means, it is no whim,
Giving yourself wholly to another,
Even when apart she is still with him.

And the Butterfly is with her lover,
Knowing the greatest gift that one can give,
Giving yourself wholly to another.

My heart is yours for as long as I live,
I look out upon a lonely Magpie,
Knowing the greatest gift that one can give,
As he gracefully glides across the sky.


*Decoding: reading the first line of each stanza  forms a message to my “Magpie” from his “Butterfly” (as does the last ;) )

Details | Sharon Smith Poem

April Fool

Commence
Pretence!

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Christmyths

If we read the gospel well,
We notice no one rang a bell,
To announce the saviour’d come,
And then when we learn of his mum,
There’s no mention of her donkey ride,
Or of the animals inside,
The stable were the child slept,
It does not tell us if he wept,
And of the weather? Did it snow?
Well we simply do not know,
It rarely snows in the West Bank,
Would be unlikely, to be frank,
And was Jesus born at night?
Did they at least get that part right?
Well it simply does not say,
It mentions not the time of day,
And that’s not all, not by far,
Shepherds saw Angels, Not a star,
It doesn’t say they gave a sheep,
(They were poor and lambs weren’t cheap!)
The Bible tells us many things,
But did not call the wise men Kings,
It doesn’t even call them men,
It only calls them magi then,
It says nowhere they numbered three,
Or if from the Orient they’d be,
It does say that our Lord arrived,
Lived a good life, was crucified,
Just to take away our sin,
So heaven will allow us in,
And this is the truth I will defend,
But just how can a footstep bend?

Details | Sharon Smith Poem

In My Prime

I stand
in my prime
indivisible
sure of my identity
but oblivious to my place in the world
you cannot change me into what you want me to be
but if you would accept me for the wonder that I already am
you may find yourself start to change into something more wonderful than us both

For SUZETTE PRIME contest – 11th November 2012

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Tim Wonnacott

TV host, Tim Wonnacott,
About antiques, he knows a lot,
In hat and tie he'll always dress,
Are you ready to Bargain Hunt? Yes!

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Confessions of a Poetrysouper

Forgive me PS for I have sinned,
I’ve posted a poem I ought to have binned,
I have read many poems without leaving a word,
And wonder why my opinion’s unheard,
The odd shameless plug is not beyond me,
(My e-book’s on Amazon if you’d like to see!)
I’ve spent too many hours creating a poem,
When there’s plenty of housework waiting at home,
Not to mention my hogging of all the broadband,
It’s not fair on my man, he pays for it and,
He deserves his far share that’s clear to see,
So I’m asking PS would you please forgive me?