Lyrical and Lovely Thoughts: Poems
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About this ebook
Its been very painful over the years, to witness insincere pseudo poetry sometimes thrive because of its authors name recognition while someone like myself with no public saliency is ignored by so called traditional publishers. Its very irritating.
Therefore, Im giving it one shot with AuthorHouse and will, if not successful, go back to being merely a pauper, a peasant, a pawn and a poker player!
In the opening poem, The Vicissitude of the Storm, the gossamer threads represent spider webs blowing in the wind. If Ive ever accidentally written a perfect poem, that would be The Season, in this volume. Its not a very long poem but the alliteration, I like to think, creates an astonishingly nuanced yet heart throbbing winter romance scene.
In, A Stone in a Pond, I try to convey the sadness I feel of how a baby is often adored by people standing near it who see it through their egos. But when it becomes less amorphous, grows into something possibly wonderful yet different then them; it is scorned for not meeting their specific expectations. I havent written any more poetry for many many years because of becoming weary of fighting unreceptive publishers.
Yet, Ive read and adored many sincere poets like Poe and Keats. The movie Bright Star about John Keats and his love interest, Fanny Brawne, touched me deeply. And I like to think, I too, have a little something to say
J. Kirby Smith
J. Kirby Smith was born in Waterloo, IA in 1948 and now lives in Des Moines with his wife, Cheryl. He worked at many blue collar jobs before retiring in late 2015 and attended U.N.I. College in the 1970’s. He loves playing cards for diversion and escapism and still has to have that occasional glass of wine. One motive for writing this novella, he says, is having to live in a world where people stampede one another while constantly texting and, yet, never bother to speak in complete sentences or have any type of meaningful, thoughtful, vis-a-vis conversation. It irks him so badly, having to continuously suffer vacuous impersonal terms like, later, I’m like, you know what I’m sayin’, or, “have a good one”, in public; he’d almost rather stay home! This is why he finds “Lovisa” and “Derrick” so refreshing, by way of comparison, and exhilarating!
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Lyrical and Lovely Thoughts - J. Kirby Smith
AuthorHouse™
1663 Liberty Drive
Bloomington, IN 47403
www.authorhouse.com
Phone: 1 (800) 839-8640
© 2011 by J. Kirby Smith. All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.
Published by AuthorHouse 04/18/2016
ISBN: 978-1-4634-4538-6 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-4634-4537-9 (hc)
ISBN: 978-1-4634-4536-2 (e)
Library of Congress Control Number: 2011914327
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.
Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
Contents
The Vicissitude Of The Storm
Oh My Dear April
There May Come A Day
Trillion Year Picnic
Looking Out Over The City
From Way Up Here
The Colours Of Rodney
Little Memories But Big
The Cards: A Parable [Humor]
Your One
True Love
Deeper Is My Dream
Lingerings
Lola
Spring Rain—Lost Love—Memories
That Youth Of Flaming Heart Long Ago
The Spider Has No Soul
My Shores Of Time
Lorinda
With Another Man
On Sentiment & Understanding
The Wisdom Of Emotions
I Am A Speck To The Mountains
Kenda
November
October Wine
Quandary
Courtesy
November Witch
Illustrious Sunday
This Lady Of Pearl
Grey Faces
Erotica
Melinda
Senora The Spirit
Apostrophe To Love
The Cat
To That Lake Of My Youth
Lyrical & Lovely Thoughts
Winter Dream
Enchantra—Lady Sleep
One Love For Me
Chauntaclear
The Park
The Sweetest Summer Hour
[In All Memory]
Each Precious Moment
Madeline
Encomium To The Wind
The Season
Siren of the lake
Time Passes—And Is Gone
Autumn Years
The Shoreline At Sunset
Her Love
To a Drunkard – Humor
Little Girl
Time Traveler
The light Through The Window
My Patriarch, The Night!
The Twilight At the End of Day
A Delicate Balance
What I Want To Do
Despair
The Heat Of A Summer Day
He Said To Me
The Difference in People
Her Secret
Night Leaves
Animal Heaven
Thoughts
Marissa
With that thought I’m atingled—my love
The Elms of the Valley
Fields of Afternoon
Tired Man
The Majesty Of Silence
August Traveller
Empathy With A Warm Woman
Morning Distance Runner
The Conqueror
Awakening Youth
Beginning A Letter
When I Look At Her
And the Rains Come Softly
On Humor
The Performer
Of Life and Of Love
I’ll Run Like the wind
through the country
A Multitude Of Form
The sunlight Eros
The House
The Bars of Late Evening
The regretfulness for a shower
Stone in a pond
The Winged Horse
Walking Home
A Place
Vacation
Bad woman passing
of a long ago time
If I Were Caught In Time
My son
Ebon Steel—from a time long ago
There Is A Oneness
Death is a sweet gentle maiden
Your smile
Waif
When My Love Was Young
Yes, This Is What I Want
It hath made, better the years
An Old face
Young Widow
Should I Live Forever
There’s A difference
The Awakenings: Like Spring
Another Spring
All Summer In Her Smile
Scents
Maiden Of The River Of Love
A Child And Nature
The Paradise Of Your Kiss
The Velveteen Bat Slinger
Spring Three
This Stream Of Beauty
Simply Her
A Piquant Total Relationship
Run With Me—Love With Me—On This Day
I Am A Simple Man
Wayward Girl
Out Near The Porch
The Man And The Girl
Anathema, The Night
Jenny
My Seventh Mirth
The Sophisticated Man
Spring Fever
The Old Man
To My Older Lover
Katrina Of The Heart
Darling—Our Courtship
From Then To Now
First Love
Ballad of Julia
Dedication
I would love so very much to dedicate this book to quite simply the very best friend and dearest sweetheart I will ever know-the former Cheryl Renee Fox—My indispensable and wonderful wife.
The Vicissitude Of The Storm
Madness as a quality incorporates with calm
Be it not a soothing balm for the black widow
Kills without a qualm from out her indolence
Hear the stillness stalk with virulence in its rush!
The gossamer threads no longer brush
My forehead wafting by I feel the hush
Of a most voluminous silence
Turpid clouds abounding form vast quasi things
While the robin wings away
Ridden from the darkening day
I feel the storm!
Whose harbinger airs are heavy and warm
The poplar shivering blends her nuance
Of the storm’s malign pursuance
Pounding down tempestuously the rains!
Plummet to the mundane plains
Thunder claps discordant!
With the violent torrent
Tremble down and pierce and mingle!
While the scathing shrill winds tingle!
Heart and spine who lie supine
Amid the storm
The zenith of the storm
The rains subside
Lilies laved now sparkle side by side in the sun
Crickets chirping Rainbows pied portend the storm is done
Halcyon skies not rampant anymore
From the tempest’s downpour
Twinkle down tranquility from above
Birds and bees and nature’s love
Cleansing sultry climes sedate
How the storm doth renovate!
High above amidst the lull
Wings the gull
But a minute panorama
Of the storms ensuing drama
Flown in beauty so we see ineffably
The vicissitude of the storm
Oh My Dear April
Swift are the gentle rains that fall in April
On the acumen of my memory stores that stir me
In tenderest thoughts or memories that chill
My being because they inundate so hauntingly
Shrill are the winds of April blowing listlessly
Like a heart unfulfilled, as yet, and full of rue
That wanders around the world seeking endlessly
A fullness and understanding to renew
My heart remembers so many Aprils
And precise little things from the past that leave me pangs
So heavy they weigh and yet they are so subtle
They stab at my heart like fangs
Oh, I bleed this month; there is something in the air
That recalls fresher happenings and beginnings in my life
Simple times that seemed easier to bear
And a breathless holding hands with my ex-wife
One certain special day with her—many Aprils ago
When the clouds were turgid and welling
The day was windy and it was Sunday
And my heart was swelling
I see shadows on windows and walls of the past
Within rooms where the people have vanished
The rooms seem so vivid; their details last
In my mind not a corner’s been banished
And some of the rooms have meant love affairs gone
The past is a terrible burden
The sum of its weight makes me tired and wan
The present is certainly sudden
Oh, but April you are so fresh; so sweet
Although too often bittersweet to me
Is it possible, yet, that I might meet
The love that will set me free
Dear April, I love you even though it hurts
And I am getting wearier with the years
And I’m trying; I’m trying; my heart still exerts
Through a cavalcade (oh, a cavalcade) of tears
There May Come A Day
When all the men and mystic maidens
Of my day begin to wizen,
This heart will be heavy-laden
To face a dark horizon.
Should I outlive my peers
The fields of clover won’t be sweet again,
I’ll walk through them alone in those years,
Thinking of what’s been.
It saddens me to think of such a thing.
So gladly I face each new dawn,
A song in my heart to sing
Before they’re gone.
I want to taste life’s sweetness
And accept every man as he is,
Before death’s fleetness
Let him have what’s his.
Yes, let me kiss my maidens and
Others too; let us breathe the roses,
Rejoicing together till the end.
(And may there be love between us.)
Trillion Year Picnic
We have come beyond time to a new time!
Conducive to new things and hearts unlike gneiss
With celerity it has so changed that this clime
Is an attar sweet isle and spice!
For Whirlwind! He hath destroyed all that was
In acanthus like prickles of wrath
The polemics of man have been ended because!
He tired of hate and their blood baths
For Whirlwind destroyed the world, vitiating war.
He destroyed it with seething shrill winds!
Shrieking tempestuous winds to the core
Of the planet emended all sin!
And only the relics of worth have been saved
The pyramid tombs of the Pharaohs
Or such as the durable highways so paved
In the States or the wondrous Greek porticos
The acropolis, yes, and the Parthenon live
And some strong