Category Archives: Poem

In the Dentist’s Chair

In the Dentist’s Chair

By David Smith August 15, 2017

 

Little tiny circles, little smiles that spin

All set to dimensions, for perfectness within

A round robin of an X-ray, that’s so smooth and beeps

Like being there on Star Trek, kind of gives me the creeps

 

And individual pictures, O to look within

Sitting in a dentist’s chair

Let the dental visit begin

It is worth the wait; a fresh mouth to feel.

Confidence to take a bite, the flavour that is real.

 

Equipment in a dentist’s office is fascinating to see

Trays and rack, with eyes, little lights that be

Pictures of the teeth, like skyscrapers, on the wall

Toronto with a bite, and Lake Ontario left in awe

It is more than picky teeth, just to look around

Care in dental hygiene, security I have found

 

On the Bus

On the Bus

By David Smith August 4, 2017

 

The hum of the engine; the motor on roar

Excitement on a bus, downtown Welland in store

Slithering through the residential streets

On the open highway; the traffic so neat

 

Just to observe and look around

People the difference, where young and old are found

Conversation with kids, seats on fenders

And the elderly, nimble, and splendour

A fabric of the community to interact

On a city bus where cross roads are at

 

A different perspective than driving a car

And being impatient where roads are a jar

On the bus, barriers are down

People communicate from all around

 

The shuffle of families, getting off and on

People the resource where a community is shone

What a resource to tap into, No Doubt

Public transportation, increase awareness throughout

What a joy, relaxing it seems

A ride on the bus, what experience means

Memories of RCAF/CFB Rockcliffe

Memories of RCAF/CFB Rockcliffe

By David Smith August 8, 2017

 

Old pictures and memories of Rockcliffe still stand

What a new facelift, stripped to bare sand

A military base that reeks of history

Documented in Facebook, to fill in the mystery

 

Old pictures and documents as the Base comes alive

The PMQs and memories thrive

A new facelift, what was torn down?

A place to call home, memories still, safe and sound

Rockcliffe, like yesterday, young in our prime

In PMQs with our families at the time

 

Growth was phenomenal, the chapel was here

Marriages and conferences we held so dear

General Officers Mess to rubble it became

Buildings demolished, emotions inflame

The school moved off base, closure was real

Things become temporary, an uncertainty to feel

 

Optimism takes over, as Facebook comes alive

Memories of Rockcliffe, we contribute, and thrive

We lived for a time, and now we moved on

Memories of Rockcliffe, a light has shone

Think of our experiences and how we grew

Childhood memories, vivid and true

 

What a joy, Rockcliffe from the original start

How we grew, through our postings, we depart

Left in memories, and relationships, Just think

People their influence to document in ink

 

Think of Rockcliffe, our growth how we’ve come

A Rockcliffe attachment, how experiences run

Thanks be to Facebook and residence who care

To show love and concern, and blogging, we share

depression is the Artists’ fuel for success

Depression is the artists’ fuel for success

By David Smith July 20, 2017

 

Listen to the heart beat, the musicians’ tune

Excited on the stage, then alone in their room

The roller-coaster ride comes down after a gig

Agony and depression, like a prison with a lid

 

Beautiful performers that give their all to a crowd

Fall in love with the audience, that heart beat so loud

Then the quietness, the drop of the tears

Alone and depressed drained of life’s glorious cheers

 

Being an artist on that roller-coaster of life

The fuel for success in front of an audience so bright

Listen to the heart beat, alone off the stage

The agony of loneliness, where tears are engaged

Listen to the heart beat, the musicians’ tune

Excited on the stage, then alone in their room

Old School Typewriters and Writing

Old School Typewriters and Writing

By David Smith June 23, 2017

 

Old School typewriters are coming into play

Fountain Pens and ink are getting the right of way

To get back to basics to bang on the keys

Making loops and tiny circles

As a pen writes with ease

 

O those basic motor skills

The teaching that we got

It’s the simple letter writing

That I experience a lot

Documenting thoughts and capturing it on a page

O to be an author, and express it on a stage

 

Basic writing and speaking, just to express a thought

What we learned in school, now I appreciate a lot

All that stress in learning to develop skill

To pass it on to grandchildren is my greatest thrill

 

Pen and ink and tiny circles, and writer’s cramp we had

The great joy of learning kind of made me mad

Old school typewriters to memorize the keys

Keep those fingers tapping, Thoughts become a breeze

A Black Leather Bag

A Well Worn Black Leather Bag

By David Smith May 11, 2017

 

 

A black leather bag worn with age;

Think of the files, when it is engaged;

The court doors swing open,

Where hearings are met;

That Black Leather Bag,

Where emotions are kept.

 

 

The files say it all, as they slide in and out;

The well worn zippers,

As compartments squeak and shout,

Think of the clients, all through the years;

Facing the judge with arguments and fears;

 

 

The container of facts,

As scenarios start to spin;

All from the bag,

As truth written within;

The judge sees the bag,

And what it contains;

Duty Council steps forward,

And echoes the refrain.

Why I Hated School

Why I hated School

By David Smith May 10, 2017

 

Why I hated school and that unbearable pain

To go there every day and face abrasiveness again

Why so much anxiety, and why I hate it so

Feeling so intimated in a classroom row

 

Afraid to even speak, confirmed how stupid that I am

Yet smart enough to realize eventually, I can

Putting things in order and phonics was a chore

Being so discouraged and stare upon the floor

Reading not a pleasure, and printing cramped my style

Making tiny circles, writing became worthwhile

 

Teachers had to teach and I had to learn

Just like Push and Pull, conflict my concern

Afraid of teachers from the start,

And nightmares that I had

Piercing voices that went through me

The emotion made me mad

 

Having a short attention span

and  fidgety in class

A very short-term memory

Frustration would always last

And simple things in order,

In left field I would find

Connections unrelated, as I pass the time

 

Learning was a chore,

Now a challenge, I see

Facing trials and difficulties

Makes a healthier me

To step out of my comfort zone

And have that added stress

To develop, and grow for complete happiness

 

No need to be beaten up

With failures and disappointments too

Developing coping skills,

Trials that I worked through

Why I hated school, hits the nail on the head

To use that burning passion, so others can be led