Why I Write

Why I Write

by David Smith December 1, 2018

Poetry writing to acknowledge how we feel

That is the joy, as our thoughts become real

To be in tune with the feeling

Capture that moment on the spot

That’s more important than all the logic we got

How we feel is more important than what we do

That rainbow of colour, let the emotion shine through

Anger is released and love is exposed

Feelings of hope and and enthusiasm grows

So let out the feeling and document the, “Why”

With the flick of a pen, the feelings we try

Acknowledge the emotion of why we’re afraid

Changing the thought patters, we will have it made

Know thyself, through emotions that hit

Find the trigger, and how to deal with it

Upfront and personal to get emotion written down

Or highly motivational to spread the optimism all around

Pick up a pen and let words flow like a river

Think of the emotion and let our knees quiver

Be in control and let thoughts capture life

Thinking success, we can overcome strife

Circumstances are temporary, and situations change

Explore the rainbow and feel the emotional range

That’s why we write to let tears hit the page

To laugh and to cry and get emotion engaged

The rainbow of feeling, a bridge we can bond

To communicate to others in words and in song

Poetry writing and let all feelings fly

That’s to have lived, the courage to try

 

 

 

Patient Hospital Care

Patient Hospital Care

by David Smith August 19, 2018

 

The man in the wheelchair dependent with care

All tech equipment to keep from despair

And think of the nurses who sail down the hall

With running shoes and service

To answer a call

 

We all have place

And roles do change

And similar challenges are close to the same

All striving for that cut above

To do our best in a sea of love

 

Duty and service, and wounded we may be

It’s all in a mindset

For our lives to see

We all are striving to do our best

That’s our goal for complete happiness

More real than Non fiction

More real than Non-fiction

By David Smith August 3, 2018

 

 

More real than non fiction

Being in a coma for nineteen days

Think of the allusions and thought that sway

The reality of hallucinations, greater than life

The thoughts of the mind

Through tribulation and strife

 

To verify the evidence, after the fact

Tears come to mind because reality is off track

O to see hallucinations so crisp and clear

Vivid imagery, to let reason appear

 

Belief system shattered

Where imagination becomes real

Truth from fiction, the uncertainty to feel

Being in a coma for nineteen days

It’s the imagination, the dreams, which play

Weighing the evidence, reality sets in

Verifying truth, is difficult to begin

 

 

 

The Ceiling and the Floor

The Ceiling and the Floor

By David Smith May 10, 2018

 

The ceiling and the floor reflection is great, it’s how we listen and how we debate

 

The eternal circle above my head; the architecture, the ceiling, as thoughts keep me fed

That circular shape helps the public flow; Up to reception and around they go

Eying the ceiling with pocket lights enclosed; it is relaxing as adrenaline flows

To keep anxiety on a healthy plane; the circular ceiling is an emotional gain

 

That’s the hope in a waiting room; where tension is high and outbursts can boom

Staring at the ceiling, like watching the sky above; a soothing affect, as life’s problems shove

That circular shape helps the public flow; Up to reception and around they go

The circular ceiling above my head; Controlling thoughts, how the mind is fed

 

The reflection from the floor fascinates me; Pocket lights from the ceiling is something to see

Bright little spots reflected from the floor; the mirror image is what I adore

Just like personality and what we reflect; our moods hot and cold

Can make others a nervous wreck

What we reflect, those moods bounce back; being pleasant can keep life on track

Light is only temporary, the power does go out; Controlling attitude is what reflection is all about

 

Reflections from the floor as mirrored images shine; We are the original, we control the time

The reflection from the floor fascinates me; To control our attitude, Influences what others see

 

The ceiling and the floor, reflection is great, it’s how we listen and how we debate

 

 

Reminds me of my Son

Reminds me of my son

By David Smith May 9, 2018

 

Tall and thin and carrot red hair

So much like my son, whom I cherish there

Does not know me but the resemblance is great

Miss my son, since he married his mate

 

Expecting a baby and focus out of range

The vacuum without him seems quite strange

Raised him from an infant and held him close

Now it’s his wife he cherishes the most

 

Expecting a baby and needed at home

The only outreach is the long distance phone

Tall and thin and carrot red hair

Loneliness without him a lot of despair

 

The Ceiling

The Ceiling

By David Smith May 5, 2018

 

The eternal circle above my head

The architecture, the ceiling, as thoughts keep me fed

That circular shape helps the public flow

Up to reception and around they go

 

Eying the ceiling with pocket lights enclosed

It is relaxing as adrenaline flows

To keep anxiety on a healthy plane

The circular ceiling is an emotional gain

 

That’s the hope in a waiting room

Where tension is high and outbursts can boom

Staring at the ceiling, like watching the sky above

A soothing affect, as life’s problems shove

 

That circular shape helps the public flow

Up to reception and around they go

The circular ceiling above my head

Controlling thoughts, how the mind is fed

 

 

The Man in the Mirror

The Man in the Mirror

By David Smith April 20, 2018

 

The reflection in the mirror through the door I can see

An old man with glasses; Scares the hell out of me

Identification card, clasped to his collar, with ease

Time hits him hard, like a cold fast breeze

Think of the reflection, not a kid any more

Mature and gray, and his duty a chore

His youth it is gone, and memory a dream

An old man, where his childhood had been

 

The ruggedness of his face, His glasses for sight

The strength in his body, At one time had might

He sits in his chair and takes in each breath

And thinks of his youth, as he’s closer to death

An old man, who has fallen in love

Picks up the pieces, with an optimistic shove

Raised a kid, now a family, and grandchildren take part

A symphony sonnet as emotional as a harp

 

Think of his life, from the 50’s, no doubt

Into the Twenty-first Century as time turns about

Manual typewriters, to the computer age

Standard transmission to automatic

As technology sets the stage

TVs to lap tops, and dial phones to cell

The change is phenomenal, his time line can tell

Think of his youth, how quickly it’s gone

The love of his ancestors, how his grandparents had shone

 

The reflection in the mirror, his grandchildren can see

He’s living his life, his experiences that be

Seeing his grandchildren, life travels on

And his generation, may soon be gone

Identification card, clasped to his collar, with ease

Time hits him hard, like a cold fast breeze

Look at reflection, and what we can see

The man in the mirror, what our purpose will be

Thoughts from a Typewrter

Thoughts from a Typewriter

Originally typed on an Underwood Rhythm Touch 1948 model

By David Smith April 14, 2018

 

My pride and joy to type away

And listen to the tapping while I play

Like loading a fountain pen with bottled ink

And make little tiny circles on a page and think

 

A taste of our forefathers how they lived

Without cell phones and tablets and time they give

A simpler time would embrace in my hand

With physical exercise and the walking we can

 

This modernization where the information highway is full

The stress and the strain and nothing physical to pull

More time for anxiety and more time to dread.

With instant messaging communication is dead

 

To nimble the fingers and love notes with pen

And typing out thoughts in the privacy of a den

Our forefathers had vision with simple machines

And speak with precision of what life truly means

 

On this information highway, over whelming to digest

And big brother is watching and frustration at best

A simple life with typewriter and paper

Artificial intelligence, a stressful flavour

 

Behind the typewriter makes me glad

To learn the skill made me mad

All that drill to type about

Posture perfect as my grade nine teacher would shout

 

It was worth it to learn the skill

To type with speed and accuracy the thrill

Later on from years gone by,

The manual typewriter, that keyboard I spy

 

The joy of writing; to think while I type

Rules and creativity, to do it right

My pride and joy to type away

And listen to the tapping while I play.

Timeless Classics: Vintage Typewriters

Timeless Classics: Vintage Typewriters

By David Smith December 30, 2017

 

A modest collection of typewriters on display

My total collection, my passion by the way

That burning desire to study pictures and all

Beautiful typewriters, that keeps me in awe

Reminds me of Marilyn Monroe when I was young

Beautiful glossies as her fame has sung

 

Studying her moves, like the typewriters I see

The unique composition, that goes beyond me

The classic machine, the keyboard and cover

Sounds and the rhythm, imagination does hover

The smell of the ink, the beat of the slugs

The printed page, imagination hugs

 

The ting of the bell, an original line

The beauty of Marilyn, a thought that is mine

Classic typewriters, the communication of the age

Thoughts on paper as reality is engaged

What a thrill, a movie star, and typewriters too

Expressing imagination, the passion so true

 

Vintage typewriters, and composing, the craze

Timeless classics, an eternal age

The eternal beauty of Marilyn Monroe

And vintage typewriters

The passion a glow

A modest collection of typewriters on display

An Icon of history as the past is at play

 

All in the Password

All in the Password

By David Smith November 9, 2017

 

She reminds me of a computer, a beautiful machine

Key board and memory and monitor crisp and clean

Knowledge and observations at every turn

The love of my life, I continue to learn

To start a conversation, the password and such

Can’t find the right word for her sensitive touch

 

It is so sad the great distance between

Just the password, where conversation is keen

To find the right words where communication can fly

And speaking so cautiously, I only can try

The translation out of sequence and parity is off

The sounds that we say, hurt quite a lot

 

We both mean well, but to hug and to hold

My passionate attempts, appear so sarcastic and cold

The heat and the passion, the fire within

To express it in darkness is where I begin

The extended family so good all around

Between the two of us no password is found