Tag Archives: Inspiration

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

Famous Writers and Tools of the Trade

Famous Writers and Tools of the Trade

By David Smith July 16, 2017

 

Famous writers, their typewriters, in demand

It’s not the typewriter, it’s ideas that stand

Whether an Underwood or Remington or Olivetti around
It’s the tool of the trade where marketers abound

 

Not because of their pen or the brand of the ink

The passion for writing, to express and to think

The tool is not the skill, it’s from the author’s hand

The ideas, the circumstances, to document in this land

 

Excited by life, to treasure each thought

Capture ideas with suitable tools that we got

It does not matter, about a brand or a name

When writers become famous, their tools become fame

 

The freedom to think and document a thought

Daydreaming comes alive the power it brought

Writing tools become famous, because of the writer’s flair

The writer, not the typewriter, the value to share

 

Old and Young

Old and Young

By David Smith June 13, 2017

 

The very young and the very old

Come together, enthusiasm to unfold

What a treat where old meets new

Mind stimulation, with bonds that grew

To make sense out of this and that

People with dementia deal where it’s at

 

Childhood memories come to mind

Old and ridged becomes soft and kind

A day care mixes with a retirement home

Food for thought as ideas roam

Motor skills of children and what elderly go through

What a joy to mix old and new

 

Visualize how old and young respond

The interconnection how they fit and bond

Remarkable how the mix is great

Young and old meet their fate

The very young and the very old

Create the passion, a story to be told

Bet you can’t eat just one

Bet you Can’t East just one

Inspired by  Potato Chip Commercial

By David Smith May 13, 2017

 

Bet you can’t eat just one?

They become addictive, like kisses in the hot sun

That salty taste, the crunch between the teeth;

Like saliva and spit, and desire that is so sweet;

 

Bet you can’t eat one, as lust starts to rise

That focus on chips, where fine taste magnifies

That hunger to embrace, flesh against flesh

Just the anticipation and imagination at its best

 

The crispness of one potato chip;

The freshness of a kiss,

The powerful heat of passion,

A world of turmoil and bliss;

A bag of chips and, un-fulfillment of one

As one lonely kiss, where adultery is spun

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

Replacement of Windows

Window Exchange

By David Smith April 1, 2017

Prying slats off the overhang with sledge and crow bar

Up on the scaffold, enthusiasm goes far

Frame work and tubing and contractors arrive

City hall is buzzing like a little bee hive

Discussions and planning, imaginary pictures in place

Waiting for the practical

The real work that they face

Framing and windows, a pleasure to see

Each job is unique how it fascinates me

The mortar is flying, a straight edge between bricks

A cloud of dust, for the windows to fix

Part of dismantling, how windows come out

The framework and panes

What replacement is about

Slicing away the panes with exactor knives in use

Pulling out the windows with minimal abuse

The tap of a hammer, the chiselling begins

It’s all the teamwork where production enters in

It is a treat to see how the scaffold is placed

Adjusted for security, as safety is faced

The silhouette in the window prying off the frame

The sound of a drill, like dental cleaning, the refrain

The tap of a hammer like wood pecker’ s around

The vibes of a saw as a symphony of sounds

All that framing to keep windows set

Now they’re removed for the panes to get

Welding outside and reflection off the ceiling

Those interesting details I find appealing

Suction cups grab and the window is gone

Cold air comes in, and new light that is shone

Atmosphere is chilling, air compressors on hum

The sights and sounds, where enthusiasm comes from

A beautiful design, as sparks fly from the saw

Like a jet stream as stars as the Milky Way, is in aha

A powerful thrust as a long stream as it flows

In front of the saw up high as it goes

What an odour as steel is melted down

The beautiful sparks where a master piece is found

The saw has a beat as it rotates and it spins

Cuts through the bricks and that sharp piercing with in

It has a rhythm and a hypnotic tone

That plays while it cuts and an unpleasant moan

An atmosphere of construction as it buzzes along

That rhythmatic beat as it sings a new song

It depends on the wheel and the softness of the brick

That sets the tune as sharps and flats do the trick

Music in the air and the sounds of the season

And the grinder throws the sparks

And construction is the reason

The saw has a beat and cuts a mean edge

Music with the hammer and the chisel and sledge

The harmony of togetherness as windows are changed

Unique skills of people

Fill in the range

That s what s observed at city hall this day

Replacement of windows as transparency is the way

The red rusty dust as it rises from the wall

The grinder shaves the bricks for the fitness over all

The steel beam has to fit for the windows to take hold

Tradesmen work courageously as their story is told

Up on the scaffold and a gene helps lift that beam

Where size is a help to fit in the groove so keen

It’s all in the workmanship that heavy materiel too

Making every movement count

As precision is added through

Seeing the dust rise from the wall

Think of the discipline to prevent a fall

It looks like a peacock in the darkest of night

As the sparks were flying so full and so bright

Very decorative, the night sky and the glow

Work after dark, the shadows to know

Reaction time slower; the timing is off

Its security of the building, workmanship is on top

They work like miners with lights on their heads

And through the dark evening a hard time to tread

Windows fit the frame and the building secure

Vacuum and cleanup, patience to endure