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Jacob Smith Poem
I can feel it in my nose,
I can feel it in my fingers,
I can feel it in my toes,
My certain end currently lingers.
I've lost my will to fight,
Bitter cold despite my blanket.
Maybe because the covers white,
Not sure how much longer i can take it.
Lost and forgotten,
No idea were I lay.
A rock in place of cotton,
Snow in place of hay.
I look to the Flurry
Contemplating its power.
My mind fills with fury,
On my final hour.
When I try to move all I do is cry,
For when lost in winter your only option is die.
Copyright © Jacob Smith | Year Posted 2014
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Jacob Smith Poem
Lightning-
Boom!
The torrent...
Copyright © Jacob Smith | Year Posted 2014
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Jacob Smith Poem
Hibiscus' bloom,
Subtle scent of lavender;
A field of flowers...
Copyright © Jacob Smith | Year Posted 2014
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Jacob Smith Poem
Forests with their trees,
Formless in the pitch of night;
The sound of an owl...
Copyright © Jacob Smith | Year Posted 2014
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Jacob Smith Poem
All through the night,
I hear bumps and creaks,
They give me a fright,
The nights full of freaks!
There's moaning and groaning
Scratching and sniffing,
Growling and hissing,
The heck am I missing!?
I look all around,
Trying to here,
I listen for the sound,
It seems to be near!
All of a sudden,
I'm filled with dread,
Turns out the sound,
Is under my bed!
With the greatest of bounds,
I turn down my head,
To look for the sounds,
Under my bed.
When I find the culprit,
My face starts to sag,
It was simply my cat,
Playing with a bag...
Copyright © Jacob Smith | Year Posted 2014
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Jacob Smith Poem
I lay within my bed, a testament
to frailty. The last lights of life
slowly escaping my sight.
As I wait for the inevitable
punctuation to life's great quest,
I find myself thinking of what
I've done.
The list is short. It starts strong,
but all at once grows so sorrowfully short;
the sort of shortness only brought by
tragedy.
I look past the weak russling of my
thin, grey curtains to the world outside;
the world my body wishes
no part in.
The thought of all I'll never do
breaks me. I turn my head, a task
that takes an age.
I look at my curtains, watching.
they slowly sway in the breeze of the dusky
afternoon. They move dutifully to
it's commanding force, for they are
to weak to move on their own.
The curtains are a sad sight, limp
and dark, unmoving. Not for lack
of want, but of ability, for their
bodies are far to weak.
Suddenly, I gasp.
Everything grows sullenly quiet.
The breeze no long blows and
the curtains sway as if nervous.
It grows dark. Everything is pitch;
all but the curtains.
They shine like a beacon on the
backdrop of my now dusk world.
Then, as if from the shade itself,
the breeze gusts fiercely-
the curtains fly from their hinge-
Rapidly falling to the floor;
signaling my fall into
everlasting.
The curtains were a very frail
thing.
Copyright © Jacob Smith | Year Posted 2014
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Jacob Smith Poem
The beauty of nature is a
Bountiful buffet of green grandeur,
Yet the trees are sagging, and
The leaves are cracking as the rains
Turn to snow.
Through the red of the coming season
I see the birds chirping and cheering,
Like children.
Soon they will go-
Fly ever so high! As the rains
Turn to snow.
The leaves are falling now.
The ground is garnished by
Their once green bodies,
Not to return ‘til
Spring…
Copyright © Jacob Smith | Year Posted 2014
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Jacob Smith Poem
I know a girl.
A girl with a head of golden fire,
And eyes like silvered sapphire.
Her smile is shining,
Her laugh is lightening.
I know a girl.
A girl wild as the storm,
A mote of smoldering passion.
She will never conform,
Her heart soars like a falcon.
I know a girl that's captured my heart,
I know a girl I'll never part.
Copyright © Jacob Smith | Year Posted 2018
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