Blue GAP Jackets

thanks be to thee for supper
for saving me
from the hoofs of pigs
or their parents

the moo of cows instead
to put me to bed


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
10:54 p.m. 21.10.08

Return To See
for Gabriela Prado

I see eyes
sea see eyes

eyes see salt
eyes see red, see blue

I see you


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
6:53 p.m. 20.02.09

Arriving Light

poetry that’s a stab of life
of light

instead of being stabbed
by someone
somewhere

with a spear or with a knife


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
7:20 a.m. 18.02.09

Zyanya

we were tied together in a bunch
like fish, like roses

poetas del mondo, I one of them

while the festival went on


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
12:27 p.m. 23.02.09

Maracas
for Angelica
M. S. Garcia

press breast milk
out of her body

when our eyes meet
we smile

little else are we
able to say to each other

little else are we
able to understand

I understand
she's had a baby recently

nine months old

press her breasts
folds her arms
across her chest

"Leche!" she says
in response to curiosity

to questioning I
to questioning eyes

and squeezes more
to find relief

to release milk
her breasts
are too filled with


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
7:20 p.m. 20.02.09

In Song On My Porch
for Clifton Ambrister

perfection is a constant
whether through your window
you can see it or not

whether or not
you’re able to feel it
through the membrane you’re in

or know it through your thick skull

it is out there
always is, always has been

I want to bathe in it, be in it
abide in it


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
1:12 p.m. 12.02.09

Mary Miller
for St. Valentine

I wanted to see Mary so badly
to say goodbye

I almost climbed the stairs
but, alas
I lacked the courage necessary

I wanted to see her
how unbelievably pretty she is

to be better able
to do without seeing her
for ten whole days


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
8:20 p.m. 13.02.09

Wrestle With Words
for Romaina & Dion

bees about roses
buzz about love

rose petals wilt,
fall

love always in season
attach like fragrances
to flowers

want to be near to you always
after flowers fade

after the sun, with a splash,
falls into the sea

and the moon rises

path to light
lovers trod


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
5:30 p.m. 13.02.09

Moon on My Toe

like a stone upon a toe
upon a nerve

the weight of the moon
is resting upon a palm frond

I can feel the pain, the pinch
though it is just paint on wood

I hear her exclaim ouch
in agony, continually

she's placed the moon
upon a palm frond

the wind unable to make it dance
with the moon resting on it

she unable to dance
in anguish, in agony
tortured as she is

not right in the head, in the brain

how beautiful her blue eyes are
against her sun-baked, sun turned skin

where she's from, confusing, amusing
though it is no laughing matter

her father sits/
her parents live
in a house upon
one of the island's highest hills


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
11:06 a.m. 13.02.09

Turning Point
for Victor Oladokun
and Kathy Edwards

i.
throbbing like a toothache
these vehicles passing
people with their noisy music

similarly, oh God
I want them extracted

ii.
God is not as real to me
as a mountain to climb
as vines to swing on

I want him to be

he is like mist to me
I reach and I reach

apart from my pen
at times my erect penis

my fist is empty

iii.
has Jesus Christ
been all used up
like sandpaper

is Christianity intended
to become useless, weak

like one bag
to make tea
for every body


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
10:53 p.m. 11.01.09

Jules

put myself in your hands
and you let me drop

in so many bits and pieces
what can I say

I was about language
words are what I’d have given you
to safeguard

smashed vase that I am
now unable to hold water
unable to hold flowers

cuss words all I can think up
think of

regret in me as deep as a well

I am as devastated, as ripped
as land an earthquake has cracked
has pulled apart

I find it difficult to believe
what has befallen me

I know illness, I expect death
but this I didn’t expect

what the computer allows, gives
only to take back in an instant

what I’ve lived, had worked on
for four years
as carefully as I could
as I knew or know how

don’t know if to thank you
or to speak to you

am I to appreciate computer
you give back

like a patient with aphasia
with amnesia

give me back my computer
with its memory erased

like a man hit over the head
dropped or fallen

this accident occurring
in your care,
in untrustworthy hands

a bit of national literature
you’ve allowed
to go down the drain

stuff I’d dreamed up
in bed with the muses


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
11:49 p.m. 09.02.09

8 Strings

i.
unable to enjoy time
when it’s being stirred up
perturbed
by this, by that

like a boat upon the sea, sailing
and the water and the wind
become rough

how in need of calm I am
already so disturbed within

history to order
full of upheaval

in need of calm, relief,
to be relieved

and what’s considered entertainment
without end, intruding, disturbing
upsetting, unrelenting

what is without end
coming at us

what is unleashed
uninvited, unselected
upon the senses
within the senses

and just when I’d have gotten
into some sort of order
what is me, my life
along comes upset

no end to gadgets
with images, noises

wearing me out
wearing out the lining inside
covering the most delicate places

the lining off
the insides of my senses

bludgeoning me
until I’m senseless

entertainment providers
insensitive

cruel

ii. Pebbles
before I outpour
hot sauce, ketchup
all over what I ordered
to eat this evening

I outpour prayers
without which
this peas and rice and fish
would be unpalatable

I’d have to throw it up
after throwing it down

to bless it and then eat it

iii.
T.V.
movies
so much less weightless
than dreams

how fine dreams are
the fabric of which
from which dreams are made

unable to find
anywhere in this world
in no fabric store

dreams so much finer
than silk

dreams like clouds
to float around in

lighter than water
like air to swim in

to be baptized

iv.
in need of more time asleep
to order all the information
all the experiences
I take in while awake

stuff myself with so much
too much to assimilate
in a few hours asleep

I need to sleep until I’m rested
until I’m refreshed
get rid of stress

all my stress down the drain
let it all out
like dirty dish water

v. Mia
orange does not blend in
with her skin

so very dark, so very lovely

she does not
accessorize it correctly

incongruous with her prettiness
her darkness

attempt to enhance
is instead subtraction

wish I were able
to provide her makeup
of hugs and kisses

I’d first need to wash off
the makeup she’s wearing

take off the clothes
she’s clothed in

bare her and afterwards
bear her from the bath
in my arms, to bed

we’d transport each other
all the way
to that far away land

ecstasy, its capital city

vi. Leish
will he be the glue
the diocese needs

provide the connections
the Holy Spirit wishes

to make among the people
in the Anglican vineyard

in The Bahamas
in The Turks and Caicos Islands

will he be that tissue
of connection
in the body of Christ
in our parts, in our time

will he be the thyme
in okra soup

vii.
don’t want to go
just to the next level

like stairs to climb
my desire, my wish

is to climb several steps
several levels at a time

with what great strides
I used to climb the stairs

inside and outside
of our two storey house
while growing up

inside wooden stairs
outside concrete stairs

I’d take them 4 and 5 at a time

the larger I grew
the longer my legs became

viii.
I could pop, could crop out
without notice or warning

how taut my strings are drawn
how soar all my sinews are

I must sleep to relax them
is time available

so much I want to take in
to learn, to be edified by


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
Written, most of it, in Michelle’s
between Tuesday, 8:45 p.m.
February 10, and Wednesday,
1:42 a.m. February 11, 2009

We Carry Pens
Instead of Spears
for T.L.C.

strongly strongly I feel about you

even while you sleep
I listen to François Gilot
an interview with Charlie Rose

I hear her say
when she was 21
Picasso, in 1943, was 61

older than both her parents
contemporary of her grandmother

am I not allowed to fall in love
are you not allowed to
unable to love me back

I detest that we are not a possibility
you and I

little short poet
a tattoo on your right leg

your skin as clean
as rained-on flower petals

you're asleep and I'm wide awake
growing like plants do, in the dark

glowing like a glow worm
worm you are unable to see
because asleep

want to open you
enter you with my glow worm
make you glow also

I'm all lit up because of you


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
2:04 a.m. 09.02.09

Commissioner Farquharson
for Elaine Ferguson

what country are they from
this force of police officers
articulate as brook water

commenting upon the influence
of Commissioner Farquharson
upon their careers, upon their lives

my mouth open in awe
all these hours after

open in disbelief
that these men, these women
of our police force
have such vocabularies

able to make sentences
like pearl necklaces

what integrity, what individuality
what leadership and what freedom

I thought them trapped
intellectually, as if muscle-bound
sluggish

but this treat of words, of ideas
unexpected, surprising to me
delightful, promising

who and what, I’m left to wonder
have they been reading

or is their ability to express themselves
exclusively the result
of having to render in writing
every complaint

every crime conveyed in words
and signed

I’d assumed this exercise
a waste of time

look at what a mess
they make of language,
I’d think of what they’d put down

my own words and thoughts
no longer mine
reports I’d have been asked to sign

but that that effort adds up
has added up to this

to remarks, to comments
I’ve heard articulated

to Elaine, the nation, the world
about Paul Farquharson,

is no less than impressive
and to be cherished

how much more proud I am
to be Bahamian

I thought they were just bullies
thought they knew just cuss words

knew only how to push us around
not words and thoughts

the strings of these, they can pull
skillfully enough
to make puppets dance

maybe I have not after all
been writing in vain

I am after all not as alone
as I imagined

Marion, Ian, Patti, Helen, Keith and I
not the only ones who love words

as much as lollipops


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
5:50 a.m. 21.01.02

Conville

there are other people’s doors
to push open
to find reward

I must not be timid
about seeking
about knocking


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
4:49 p.m. 02.02.09

Judson

lost a man I admired
one of my few heroes

I am a fan of his

his wife and he
attempted to turn the table

behave like fans of mine
when I’m a fan of theirs

who am I to look up to
or to follow or to admire

they are admirable, I am not

striving to emulate him
to emulate them

wanting to be the success he is

waiting in line, waiting my turn
to be blessed

they suggest I’ve arrived already
when I couldn’t have
when that couldn’t be

in turn, what is humility, respect
must have come out like contempt

must have seemed I was fed up
I love and admire them

their admiring little old me
I could not accept

must have sneered
must have growled disapproval

but not of them, I love them

disapproved of their suggesting
I am somebody

I am no body, I am zombie
poetry mysteriously

drips from me


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
7:31 p.m. 02.02.09

Vanessa

too much wind/
too windy to walk and write

seek shelter for my thoughts and feelings

delighted to see her
out of the blue appearing, smiling

even if only warmly, not boiling
like she sometimes is

in the heat of customers to serve
with me entering, added

she emerged from somewhere
some obscure area

entered my senses
but oh what work before her to do

though big enough for task assigned
I sympathize, empathize

though I am too lazy
to lift aught but my pen
to assemble aught but a poem

easy when she sends me inspiration
lends a hand as it were

do I help at all
to make what she has to lift lighter

am I as much a gift to her
as she is to me

so long since I’ve been
on a see-saw with someone


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
7:38 p.m. 03.02.09

Erica

straps across her back
made of two arms

I held her too tight, too long
most likely

longer than she had time for
was available for

so much to do, places to go
people to see

she had to free herself
of arms about her

of beautiful black dress
a little later

undoing the zip at the back
or someone undoing it for her

task I wish I had

© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
1:18 p.m. 01.02.09

Alicia

some assume all writers dead
or in countries far away

how to respond to poets, to poetry

who taught you to be genuine,
appreciative

you came along when needed most
light dying out

you scratched matches, lit fire
brought warmth in a cold season

magical eyes to ignite a hearth
send smoke up a chimney

rising in the wilderness
a place deserted, abandoned
you lit up, brought life

God, how you did it I don't know
born for moments such as these
you must have been

baby in a manger not long ago
how many Christmases have you seen

trees erected and disposed of
lights in a box, stored overhead
until next year

your eyes though remain open
remain on

your eyes upon me and I'm not the same

eyes wide enough to take my height
at once able to touch earth and sky

you make holy what you look at
you bless when you blink, what you see

I am making a portrait
of who has made a portrait of me

we'll need two frames
two pieces of glass to cut to order
to measure


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
12:35 a.m. 04.02.09

Air In and Out
for Kent & Mary

i.
just as I won’t want to be
where I’m unable to breathe

don’t want to be
where I’m unable to write
or unable to read

these as important to me as air

unable or difficult
to read or breathe
under water or under ground

while I can be, want to be
where I’m able to write and to read

as long as I breathe
must write and read

woman who inspired these words
these thoughts,
so dark and lovely

in through one door
out through another
so animated

I see her, I’m breathless

to write, to live, to read
so much more enjoyable
when beauty’s added, passes

like blood through my veins

ii.
could Dante have evoked an entire nation
is Italy the ultimate divine comedy

iii.
I’m not reading
I won’t allow you too either

you must remain behind with us
in an ocean of noise

as difficult to breathe almost
as when under water

iv.
must not mention it
as if unaware

his upper teeth, in front
are missing, all missing

close as we are, timid to ask

how did you come to be
without your front teeth

how were you relieved of them
by what or by whom

young as you are
gentleman that you are

in an accident, in a car
I see no scar

v.
Lord, for delivery
deliver me, I pray

for my needs I pray
upon my knees

vi.
how frail life is, how fragile

life can pop any minute
even without alcohol
cigarette and cigar smoke
added

deliberately stressful
environments we choose
to inhabit

environments which
comprise modern life

how backward are we
we’re suicidal

wanting to go down
all in a bunch, in a group
or up in smoke

stop the train I have to say
over and over and get off


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
Written between, 10:10 p.m.
Saturday, 31st January 2009 and
12:49p.m. Sunday, 1st February 2009

Weigh Light
for Vanessa Linden

i.
not this not that
and the next

the only thing we have
until it runs out is time

what we get from it
what we put in it
is what’s important
is all that matters

not this not that
or the next

ii.
journeying
on the road as well as mentally
as well as otherwise

unable to continue one
able to sustain/
able to advance another

I like to have a book to read
a prayer to pray

always when something’s wrong
or goes wrong

with the tires, the wheels
or with the road

I’m able to advance still

often times
I advance simultaneously
along the roads I’m on

on earth, in mind or spiritually

I always like having/
always must have

a pen to write, a book to read
whether or not there is
a horse or woman or camel
to ride


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
6:45 p.m. 31.01.09