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Best Arlene Smith Poems

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

View ALL Arlene Smith Poems

123
Details | Arlene Smith Poem

I Am The Mighty Mountain

I stand, the most statuesque, peeking through the clouds
that lend their softness as my pillow when sun in midnight drowns.

Golden sun, a fitting crown for a majesty such as me;
Somber moon, my nightcap; tundra stockings on my feet.

Veins of icy water; hair of snow drifts white.
I, the ladder Jacob dreamt of, one revealing night.

Would you climb and be my king, upon my peak to rest?
Or meet, descending from the heavens, doom's Angel of Death.

Dare to move me by your faith as the man from Galilee;
or does my might leave you in doubt to tremble on your knees?

Against my chest, Thor strikes his hammer; thunder fills your ears.
From my shoulders, he takes aim; arching lightening spears.

Haven to monstrous legends as the abominable snow beast;
hidden in tales of lore, on nonbelievers he does feast.

Bursting forth from earthen womb, a giant granite fountain. 
Ancient tower of vast unknowns; I am the mighty mountain.

Copyright © Arlene Smith | Year Posted 2014

Details | Arlene Smith Poem

The Peephole that is the Moon

An infinite door of midnight blue;
glowing peephole that is the moon.
Dare I look before turned to dust?
Yes, dear friend, I surely must.

In the midst, a city of finest gold,
large as the earth; immense and bold.
Quoins of pearl, this must be known,
the lusture seemed a life, it's own.
Rising from it, a mountainous temple;
whisps of prayers escape the steeple.

Without the city, fields of crystal flowers,
and trees more akin to wind chime towers.
Platinum trunks doning metalic leaves.
Angelic music when brushed with their wings.

Out from all this, layers of various planes
seemingly worlds of their own, yet all of the same.
Once starving children and homeless ones too,
with comforts of home; endless tables of food.
One plane of great sports, children running free;
prosthetics and wheelchairs, now trophies and glee.
Another, Indian braves running with buffalo,
women laughing carefree with children in tow.
Serene planes of beaches and tropical breezes.
On none was found pain, lameness or diseases.
Thousands of planes, but my favorite to view;
families and the ancients with no need of adieu.
So euphoric, this sight, but there is more to tell,
as three glorious chimes of the great temple bell.

All froze still as beams of golden light
transported them to the temple in quiet.
The most beautiful prayers and songs arose.
From within the city; pure love aglow.
Three bells again and all were beamed out;
some to the same planes, some different routes.

I wanted so badly, to open the door
and be in this place forever more,
but the door was locked and I had no key,
then an angel turned and flew towards me.
Approaching the peephole, that is the moon,
It said, "Don't worry, you'll be here soon."
I have need of a key, I began to implore,
and it slipped a note neath the midnight door.

I unfolded the note; three lines within,
and three nails fell out; payment of sin.
The first line proclaimed, the door was faith.
The second; the beams are God's loving grace.
Overcome by peace as I read the third line.
Jesus is the way, the truth and the light,
and I remembered a scripture that so sweetly states;
"For by grace, through faith, are ye saved."


Copyright © Arlene Smith | Year Posted 2015

Details | Arlene Smith Poem

A Legend In His Own Mind

Who was that masked man?!?
Brian Williams, rides again.

He was in Amilia Earhart's plane;
even rode with the Dalton Gang.

The day the Titanic went down;
In the rescue boat when Rose was found.

He went on expeditions with Louis and Clark.
Once gave his seat to Rosa Parks.

He was actually the first man in space.
That shadow on the moon........ It's his face!

The earliest woman, they deemed to be
bones in the desert they named Lucy.
She was his niece, tho she drug her knuckles,
so he really is a monkey's uncle!

He walked miles and miles on the Trail of Tears;
wondered the desert with Hebrews for forty years.

He dated Cleopatra; drank wine with Moses;
gave the Queen of Sheba a camel and roses.

He's walked with Bigfoot in the hills;
been bitten by vampires, but magically heals.

He has had great adventures of every kind.
He's Brian Williams; a legend in his own mind.

Maybe I can be one of those news cast stars.
This is Arlene, reporting from mars........ 




Couldn't resist this little tribute to the wild stories of reporter Brian Williams who was fired for seemingly padding up his stories....

Copyright © Arlene Smith | Year Posted 2015

Details | Arlene Smith Poem

Because He Gave A Single Rose

Her tired old eyes lit up bright.
A thankful tear, she could not hide.
A sweet aroma fills her nose;
because he gave a single rose.

Confined to this dreary nursing home;
having outlived family, she's alone.
Today, with a smile, her face glows;
because he gave a single rose.

He brings them often to his mother.
Today, one extra for another.
Talking, on and on she goes;
because he gave a single rose.

She asked an aid to bring a vase.
By her bed the gift was placed.
Happy and peaceful then she dozed;
because he gave a single rose.

Her final breath tonight was sweet.
Family missed, again to meet.
Her last day joyful, all heaven now knows;
because he gave a single rose.



July 17, 2014
Contest: Random acts is kindness
Sponsor: Debbie Guzzi




Copyright © Arlene Smith | Year Posted 2014

Details | Arlene Smith Poem

Wind

Ascending towering mountains with the greatest of ease,
laughing as foliage tickles my tummy with soft, feathery leaves.

Endless melodies, I have played, breezing through dangling chimes,
luring enchanted fairies with an orchestra sublime.

Lifting kites of brilliant colors, I choreograph the dance.
Such magnificent, breathtaking moves, never given to chance.

Designer of vast deserts, sculpting massive, lounging dunes.
Artist of the lonely face that rises from the moon.

Donning infinite perfumes; sweetest flowers; savory food,
or the salt of seven seas, when in a traveling mood.

Ghost writer of romantic voyages, sailors and pirates tell;
beached lovers on exotic islands, my gust upon their sail.

I've swooped down through lost canyons, and valleys, emerald green;
lain in meadow's tall lush grass to nap in sun's warm gleam.

My disposition revealed by soft whispers through the trees,
or howls from the north, saddled on winter's cold, pale steed.

Old as God himself, being born of his first breath.
I fill the lungs of eternity, forever evading death.








Copyright © Arlene Smith | Year Posted 2014

Details | Arlene Smith Poem

Eyes of Blue

A people persecuted beyond imagination;
To help them he felt, was his obligation.
He joined the army in World War II;
Not knowing his hell would be Eyes of Blue.

When he reached Normandy, the beaches were red.
Crawling over his brothers who lay already dead.
To give this tyrant, this devil his due;
Not knowing his own demons, would be Eyes of Blue.

He rounded a building securing a town;
A young German soldier was just coming round.
He plunged his bayonet, the quicker of the two;
Killing the young soldier, with Eyes of Blue.

He knelt down beside him with tears in his eyes;
How long this moment would last, he did not realize.
He closed the eyes as he thought he should do;
Thinking never again to see those Eyes of Blue.

The victor over many in Germany and Japan;
It was always difficult taking life from a man.
None would haunt him, this he now knew;
As long as the soldier, with Eyes of Blue.

He died an old man, to heaven he went;
For this honorable soldier, mercy was sent.
First time since the war, so sad but true;
A peaceful sleep, not seeing Eyes of Blue.

Copyright © Arlene Smith | Year Posted 2014

Details | Arlene Smith Poem

Stop Eyeing My Candy

Clothes all clean
but the washing machine
ate up all my panties.

Raced to the store 
to buy some more,
But bought instead some brandy.

Stopped at a shop
for a lollipop;
a treat I find so dandy.

My skirt fell down
In the middle of town.
Now everyone's eyeing my candy!

Copyright © Arlene Smith | Year Posted 2014

Details | Arlene Smith Poem

Questions to Ponder

What flowers do we most cherish?

Ones with such aroma they consume our senses,
as sweet purfumed, honeysuckle clad fences,
or those of brilliant hues springing boldly from the ground,
holding our eyes captive, as do pictures in clouds?


Which clouds do we most welcome?

Dreamy, soft ones of contrasting white,
sauntering seductively across baby blue skies,
or those billowing dark, mocking tidal waves at sea,
pouring life sustaining liquid to desert Joshua trees?

What trees are we most thankful for?

Bearers of fruit, so succulent and sweet;
releasing bundles of manna right at our feet,
or those with strong arms stretched over the dust,
lending cool somber shade; a resting haven for us?

Whish of us is the most beautiful?

Ones with perfect features to gaze upon,
as earthly angels dancing round kings thrones,
or those who cherish friends, and have learned life's lessons;
welcomed opportunities to give, and been thankful for blessings?





Copyright © Arlene Smith | Year Posted 2014

Details | Arlene Smith Poem

Summer

He saunters in with a slow steady gait
gathering all of nature in his warm embrace.

The whimsical artist splashes colors to sky;
miniature airplanes and exotic shaped kites.

Vocal chords of moon beams strummed by crickets and toads;
a serenade through open windows of our humble abodes.

So light on his feet; ocean's glass dance floor;
leading sailboats to sea and lovers to shore.

His breath on your neck puts you under his spell;
caught up in his love, as romances swell.

His pulse beats hot through sun ray veins,
then he showers us with gifts of cool, fresh rain.

We lounge with him in fields and meadows,
and miss him as Fall nudges him deep in the shadows.

Copyright © Arlene Smith | Year Posted 2015

Details | Arlene Smith Poem

Athena's Companion

Phantom of wisdom in stealth of night;
mysteries of darkness revealed by your sight.

Appearing much older than your earthly years;
an ageless soul with no death to fear.

Athena's companion, with knowledge to share.
Secrets of the gods and immortals you bear.

Kept hidden from light, the ancient truths;
powers of the universe and fountains of youth.

Silent and deep as winters hard snow,
divulging not, till we're deemed fit to know.

Her crow, the secret of omnipotence did tell.
Jealous gods swallowed Atlantis with ocean swells.

Tiring of him, wanting the perfect fowl,
she chose you, the wise old owl.




Contest:My last contest:
Sponsor: Kelly Deschler
Contest: Night Owl
Sponsor: Kelly Deschler


Copyright © Arlene Smith | Year Posted 2014

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