Danielle
wanted to plant kisses
all over her pretty skin, her pretty face
wanted to close her eyes with kisses
were I permitted, were I allowed
pretty lovely woman already taken
wasn't when we met a year or so ago
encounter her now armed with husband
with new last name
End of the Affair enters my mind
where the woman's lover was not her husband
cool with her husband, hot with- hot for another man
what a depth of involvement
heard her laugh last evening
deliciously raucous laughter
interesting the need to be tied to be free
in a stretch of conversation, had her to myself
to shoot dice with, play cards with
whip the skipping rope with
her and me in one jumping rope, skipping rope
up and down, up close or almost
wanted to be carried away, was now and then
chin with dimple, eyes, exotic insects
wings like lungs rise, fall, contemplating take off
wanted to go when she was lifting off
light enough to leave with her
late as usual
in another man's arms, in another man's bed
his balls to handle, intimacy impossible
just the intercourse of conversation left to us, allowed
better by far than nothing at all
sweet and pretty woman, fragrant pineapple
you should see my mother, she kept insisting
I must have seen her somewhere
small sphere we live in, circle I go about in with the cultivated
I without end doing my darndest
to be as fragrant as the sweetest people
to be numbered among those who are loveliest
need a woman on my arm also
before a walking cane is the companion I went about with
like Ingmar Bergman when he was already past 80
when he no longer made films
“Franny and Alexander” he thought would be his last
made to look back to- back through his childhood
will I wed before I'm dead, will she be as pretty as this lady
almost too pretty to look upon
what it must be like with her entirely bare
God only knows, her husband and whoever else
they say I am lucky to be able to write poetry
but where's the woman upon a platter
where's the salad dressing
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
2:12 a.m. 27.09.09
Over A Wooden Floor
for Rachquel Phillipa Walkine
in love with you, how about that
what are you gonna do
know you like playing with fire, teasing old me
old dog without teeth
in my prime, baby, in spite of my beard
full of grey, turning white
this wild man is full of tigers' claws
no thought to harm you
roar, make the firmament shake, you shiver
what eyes, what lights in them
look up, look out for stars
these though always in your eyes
what you do to me,
expect me to see nothing, feel nothing
become nothing
able to make snakes commence sloughing
flower petals fall
able to roll back, to hold back tides,
flood waters
roll back the skin of my erect dick
when we’re ready for intercourse
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
3:46 a.m. 24.09.09
Wet After the Rain
for Rachquel Phillipa Walkine
she looks and I ache
what she is able to do with just eyes
able to do to me with eyes
could look and I'm affected
able to touch me as if with
cold hands, with cold feet
together in bed, naked in bed
too fresh, one-flesh contract
ow! when her palm or foot bottom
press against me, joyous assault
just looking I’m affected
magnetic eyes move what in me
re-assorted, recomposed
eyes resting on me, pass through me
unbearable sweet
ow! I exclaim at the thought of it
I recall it
when her eyes are upon me, I grow weak
I go to heaven, to hell, right on this rock
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
8:37 p.m. 23.09.09
Newspaper with my Picture
for Vanessa Linden
usually she does not let me look, does not let me see
as if merciful, sparing me
avoid intoxicating with unbearable beauty
what is it about opening to look out
baring yourself to be looked at, to be seen inadvertently
cleaning, mop in hand, face moist with effort
behold a woman I’m unable to describe
need to capture a moment energizes
point where water becomes steam
face I see so delicious I’m singing
all I have is song, music all there is
to register emotions like mercury
measures heat or its absence
at her prettiest, eyes bright, face moist,
happy in her heart in spite of drudgery,
having to work
work made worship
something or other resulting in ecstasy
I get to see, to witness
did not hide it, thank goodness
body out of the bath, towel about it
naked as Eve before she knew she was
face as naked as this, emotionally bare
I looking on, she letting me, I in awe
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
7:53 p.m. 21.09.09
Sweet Milk Holes
for Vanessa Linden
think there is a hole problem
think the hole is the problem
the hole is the whole problem
unable to hold the problem, a hole in it
unable to hold water or hold air, hole in the holder
without pin hole in plastic cap, in plastic cover
difficult to get at coffee in my coffee cup
though I suck at the cut in the cover
cup in my clutches which warms my two hands
could have been a breast with pin hole
I, a baby, belly full of milk or full of air
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
21.09.09
Jessica Ramsey
could sense she was thrilled to hear I had, a year ago, written a poem of her,
to hear that I was sending it to Colombia, to hear of its being translated into Spanish
then again how do I know what of all I said she heard,
what exactly of what I said, of all I said, shy myself about connecting, about confessing, was responsible for how divinely she smiled
she did seem to accept that it was something given or something taken which cost her nothing,
taken without her knowing or without feeling any pain at all,
unlike a pint of blood, unlike a mosquito bite
what is your name was my first question, she gave it readily enough
tapped her shoulder again, I can add your name to it I told her, was it o.k.
sure, she said, over her shoulder, quickly
what is your last name, holding back but gave that as well
uncertain of her family name, how to spell it, wanting to be certain I spelled it correctly
spelled it aloud and she confirmed
a younger sibling in one arm and on one side, energetic as she usually is
as cheerful as the year’s most joyful seasons in her combined
in the nick of time you might say, able to add a dedication to that poem
able to, with this connection, polish it, finish it, put it together, pull it apart
give it official placement on the page, simultaneously place her like a tattoo
in blood within my heart, position her where and how she fits best
I fell in love with her that night I saw her in the dark, in her dark skin, in short jeans skirt
with a group of girls but she stood out and my heart leapt, too vigorously almost
with this woman my own age, whom I've been with, gone with for ages
with hardly anywhere else to go and she pops up, pops out in the night, too thrilling for words
thought I'd given myself away for certain - either she did not notice of pretended not to
that moment truly one of life's most gripping
in fact it was a month short of two years ago, October 21, 2007,
what day of the week, I'm unable to recall, I can and will confirm
it’s Sunday and across the street at the door of that store where we were a while ago
a dog waits to wag its tail and trot along beside two girls it loves, to whom it belongs
I connect to those I love with words I write, write into being a new family
by ink rather than by blood connected, best possible substitute for corpuscles
adrenalin is released in ink as well, from ink wells
how dark and lovely this girl is, when she is 19 though I'd be 59 or 29 I'd be 69
my wish, I wish I could take her out to dinner once before demise
before the surprise of death
knock upon her door to commence an evening out, before death knocks
to say, pack it up, knock it off, you're coming with me, you're being relieved
so much beauty in this world to move me, to be moved by before bye bye
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
8:54 p.m. 20.09.09
Sea Grape Season
for D.R.
her mouth, my mouth
without connecting, connecting
flavor of kisses
antithetical to the flavor of cuss words
kiss words--kiss worlds--hers and mine
way apart, connect now, will remain so
rain fall, wind blow, whatever weather rages
some stems remain attached
others break off
fruits, leaves, limbs
all over the ground, strewn
thrown by fists of bad weather
won’t want us to be victims, casualties
us to keep like preserves in bottles
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
8:15 p.m. 16.09.09
Cork
for D.A.
art to make with you
love to make too
help a girl become a woman
with my corkscrew
cock would be kinder
made of flesh
all flesh instead of what's metal
corkscrew like a pig's cock
going through cork
cutting into it
cutting through it until it gripped
and you could pull it out smoothly
remove cork from bottle neck
I could, with permission
enter your opening and leave
as smoothly
manhood attached to me
must go with me when I get up
passage to occupy a while
to hide in out of this world
kinder place to sheath my sword
out of the rain, away from mishap
place to put it, to push it
so it wouldn't rust or warp
need it to do battle with
whenever the need arises
arose
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
6:20 a.m. 18.09.09
Max Taylor A Moment
for Hubert Ingraham & E.M.J.
i.
when the gaze turns upon me
when I’m addressed
I’ve a response to make
I’ve a date with destination
ii.
prolific coconut tree
bunches yellow, gold, green
at it again
bucket falling into the water in the well
with a splash
iii.
in red dress,
electrical connection
connected to heaven
she is radiant, bulb-like, bright
will I see her again
I’ve seen her twice
see her, I ignite
iv.
I have offered myself up to mother
offered myself over to motherhood
handcuffed to it
struggle in it, struggle with it
not against it, not yet
v.
the erotic is missing from Max’s oeuvre
so much apart of what I pen down, pin down
like woman after woman
upon the mattress of my note book
vi.
stomach she has, what is that about
in her red dress, will have to remove it
massage therapist visiting
will have to undress almost completely
wish it were I with such skills in my fingers
I’d chase away fatigue, I’d ease what aches
stomach she has though, what is that about
what has she in her history
body full of history
her own, with centuries more added
layers of rock a geologist has to read
vii.
her dancing eyes to trip me up
to trigger me off, to look into
in ones, in twos, in shoes, in socks
to take off quickly enough
though we haven’t
enjoyable being friends
with all our clothes on
with all out clothes off
would we laugh, would we talk
get in the tub, get out, dry off
viii.
wearing a beard
in this outfit for the evening
for this important event
Max exhibition at NAGB
Prime Minister attending
Max’s shoes hurt his feet
strollers from which
he has not deviated in years
in formal, in form, in my beard
my age recorded in it
this I wear instead of black tie
instead of suit and tie
unable to acquire beard like this
in Fine Threads
threadbare or almost
thread of my verse though
does not break easily
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
Written between 7:45 p.m.
and 10: 44 p.m. Friday,
September 18, 2009
Awake Alive
for D.A.
free to enjoy her still
don’t know if she realizes
that it is against death that I write
wonder if she realizes what light she lights
what hours she adds
she’d have extended my history
added pages to my history book
see her body, how my heart beats
how it quickens
in bed, on her feet, in her short white shorts
what her hips and thighs weigh
what a woman she is
recipe I’d want or that item on the menu
her vegetables with tomatoes, beets
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
7:56 p.m. 16.09.09
Top of the Hill
for Qural Taylor
what makes beautiful, wish I knew
brings it, leaves it, never to be seen
what is available is handiwork
pretty ladies
out of what material was she made
black, pretty girl
skin as fine as cream
cake batter outpoured
that texture of mixture
were I to mix with her, were I able to
we’d have a cake with nuts
we’d have a smooth criminal
Lord, I enjoy looking at her
wonder if she’s on Facebook
wonder if there are photographs
cashier in the food store
I could run back to buy
her store on the hill, long way from home
certainly worth the weight
certainly worth the walk
things we stumble upon,
stumble in, stumble on, hurt ourselves
other times stumble upon treasure
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
9:16 p.m. 15.09.09
St. Francis of Assisi
for Thea Rutherford
six dollars-plus spent last evening
for food for my rats
they had been seeking to eat my food
to chew into treats purchased for me
feet they run about outside on
up on my cabinet, all over things in bags,
in bottles, in tins
over dishes I eat from, forks, knives, spoons
I eat with
want them to have meals
especially purchased for them
like cat food, dog food, bird food
rat food though is a rat's last meal
my intention’s not to go on feeding them
week after week
their food indefinitely part of my grocery bill
last meal and no more
rats are no pets, are no friends of mine
provide them a meal to put them out of their misery
tormented by rats I want to be rid of
I want to put an end to
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
12:30 a.m. 12.09.09
Rainy Day Romance
for Antoinette Bowe
some close calls, brushes with intimacy
quickly, our two hearts beating
but horses hooves you'd hear coming
would go by and leave silence
just breathing, heaving, sighing
situations like these
no doubt we've loved each other
mutually reaching out like now, like today
money for books I've written
always support, always interested
weak for her, have been for a long time
soft spot where she’s concerned
loved her at times fiercely, a blaze
somehow, somewhere, someone
would provide cold water
lessen intensity, almost put it out
dad, grandmother, herself occasionally
both of us guilty of aborting
what could have come to pass
we've lasted anyway,
after some love fashion or another
something elegant about us echoed
note a toning fork knows as well as a piano
a violin knows as well as a cello
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
2:48 p.m. 10.09.09
Sex In A Friend's House
for M.B.
ended up bare back in the living room
wiped with shirt I stripped off
soiled with semen, our juices
threw it to her to carry, she threw it back
shirt in a ball in a ball a game
not carrying, not owning
what was ours, was both of us
mine or was it hers to carry
where to break exactly
what we picked, what we sliced off
how and what and where
were we to share, an issue usually
things to negotiate
adjustments to make
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2007
10:47 p.m. 10.09.09
Tick Tick Erotic
for T.L.C.
want to eat your pussy, fat or lean
lick the platter clean
lick fingers, waste nothing
I hope you’re hairy
wouldn’t want some little girl
pussy able to roar, able to growl
gruff, rough
able to capsize my boat
as easily as a pan of milk
all over the kitchen floor
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
6:12 a.m. 09.09.09
Champagne Glasses
for Crystal Morley
star-studded, star-lit
twinkle like stars twinkle
do not go off ever
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
6:50 p.m. 07.09.09
Sweet Agony Again
for Tia Clarke
you little two feet tall girl
affect me as if you were ten feet tall
why don't you fall on me, finish me off
or love me
want your limbs about me
your leaves to tickle me, make me laugh
I have a thing or two to tickle you with
to tickle your wits
wished I tickled your fancy as you do mine
Miss Two Feet Tall
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
4:47 a.m. 08.09.09
What was At The Bottom of The Pot
for Tia Clarke
want to write you a short love poem
I've written you a long one, in my notebook still
must type and polish it
heart and soul and all, I wish to push in a short one
want to push love into you, hadn't in a long time
you must be as starved as I am
reading through your poems, I hadn't in a long time
like returning home
intense what I feel for you, what you feel for me
if I'm allowed to guess
the need to be tender, to be sensitive,
a mutual demand as well, as well as a desire shared
want to share an ice cream cone together
lick it until it was all gone, let not one drip waste
want to share a bowl of hot soup, spoon for spoon
until it was empty
want to get to the bottom of why your chest hurts
chest ache you say you have suffered from for years
I am jealous of your chest pains
how near your heart they are, closer to you than I am
able to take a life I long to save
how madly in love I am, have been for ages now
evening I saw you first, exposed yourself to public gaze
to public stare
who able to see more deeply, more purely than another poet,
this other poet, hungry for companionship
empathy enough, admiration enough for a few life times
fear I am unable to love you enough
with arms tied to my sides, through the glass in prison
which separates
not enough to fit our palms together, with the glass dividing us
to break through, to break out, grip you up
rip off what I must for us to be together after forced to be apart
want to feel your heart beating against my own
our two bodies bare, you up in the air
are you ready to tear, ready for tears, Tia
I am ready to burst into tears of joy
happy to be alive as I never was or dreamed I'd be
want to love you, have you before you die, before I do
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
6:40 a.m. 07.09.09
Fit
for N.N.
always willing always was
able to fit into the crevices in me
like water up against craggy rock
lapping, laughing or in earnest in conversation
the rock and the water, where these would meet
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
1:12 p.m. 01.09.09
Hi Hyena Bye Hyena
they’re thinking of killing you they know how to
swift paw slaps the back leg
of frightened animal, fleeing for its life
this gesture as if just playing
death knocks, death twists, trips
what it's about to prey upon
not even a prayer can save
expert at killing what it chases
out to eliminate, pull the plug, out the lights
of what its eyeteeth enter
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
9:30 p.m. 23.09.09
Remembered Whirls
fell in love with a lot of women
and could not have them
how my heart tore when they turned away
some of them in pictures and I had to turn the page
torn just the same
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
3:33 a.m. 01.09.09
Not All about Me
for R-B. B.
what had happened
once before once again occurring
woman in the men's room
too strong a magnet to resist, drawing her in
what in our culture, its coyness,
its religious conditioning to overcome
to wrestle with, to go against, to undo this
challenge of what is male and what is female
this wall or partition assailed
not so different after all, not as dissimilar
as society suggests with these separate toilets
her appearance suggesting, fuck that/fuck this
he whom I wish to affirm/who affirms me,
why can I not be wherever he is
turned and saw her, was turned on by this
thinking I'd inspired it, I embraced her
as firmly as we do normally but longer
thought that to connect was why she was there
released her to find her not fulfilled
something unaccomplished still on her mind
not because of me had she been bold
she wanted to pee and the ladies was locked
strong spout of her pee made a noise
did she wipe herself before she left
I confusing her desire to pee
with desire for me
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
12:19 a.m. 26.08.09
