Poetry+Portfolio

Matt Smith Poetry Portfolio #3 A single man on the internet Tries to change the way people think He lays out possible outcomes One of which is the end of humanity He knows that we must agree to do Something about global warming But, because he is one man In the vastness of the Internet There are only a few people Who take the time to listen to him Because everyone else wants to know What Paris Hilton did last night #4 My oldest friend and I  Went for a walk in the park We went slower than we used to After all, he is 91 years old We heard the sound of a child laughing And we stopped our leisurely procession To watch the giddy frolicking Of a boy and his puppy I whispered into my friend’s ear “How were we once like that?” And he responds by trying Determinedly to lick my ear off #7 Four machines stand ready to work Standing perfectly still, when The conductor’s baton moves with a jerk And the machines take up a slow tune The machine with the highest sound Started to operate faster, its Bow moving in leaps and bounds And accelerating the machine’s tempo Now, near the end of the song The machine’s pistons pumping They suddenly hold a note that is long And quietly fade along with the light


 * 8

Heed my call, o force of nature Rumble ominously in the distance And have the winds precede your arrival

Make your clouds ever darker As your thunder grows louder Strike fear into the human heart

Light up the sky with lightning And let everyone below Know your rage and fury


 * 11

My mother isn’t that good at Giving advice on relationships

I know she may have experience But she can’t give it to me

Even if she could effectively I’m not sure I’d be able to listen

With her sympathy, she thought it Constructive to include “I told you so”

This pessimistic attitude she has I refuse to become infected by it

Because if I lose hope I may not have anything left


 * 13

On my back, I look up at the cold indifference of the bar

It has no purpose other than being moved in a pattern

Up and down, back up, back down It really doesn't matter

The bar cannot move on its own But it must be immune to

The constant humiliation of being nothing more than a tool

After all, it couldn't care, all it does when it isn't being thrusted back and forth

Is lay there, being a bar One that cannot move on its own