Broken Up

Leaving her has been the best of choices.
Never did I expect to become so used.
From here on out I will remain rejuvenated and enthused.

With the sound of cheering voices kissing the horizon,
And more importantly without her,
I feel alive and amazing.

Oh, the joy that didn’t come from being tethered.
To another’s heart that was all too punishing.

I adore the cool calm
That comes with the absence of commotion…
Truly a pure emotion.

You should know my soul’s heart
Is not weathered…
just sunshine and freedom.

Happy as a meadowlark flapping its wings
for freedom.
Feeling kind of saintly to myself,
for I have begun once more.

Being away from her has me feeling so contented.
I used to love her.  Now, I just try to forget her.

Break ups are necessary from time to time, ya feel me?
I am ready to meet new people and have time for my friends.
Everywhere I go, all I feel is sweet, meaningful zen.
She sure made me cry, but Spring Break is here.

Thus, I carry on with my backpack
And look forward to spending time with my family.



Some of the scientists are calloused hacks.
Hackneyed plagiarized equations rife,
Make something incredible of your life.
Defend the soft spoken form attacks.

Dare to believe.  Reveal the unknowns.
Fact check reality.  Bolster your genius.
No individual ever ought to refrain
From artsy critiques of scientific thrones.

No heart too bereft.  No one disqualified.
We must uphold integrity.  So be sure
Of yourself, of your dreams, and you’ll mature.
No doubt, a lesson learned trumps life not lived.

Oh, to remind a fellow passenger of purpose.
What grander a gift than gregariousness?
Speak freely.  Care wildly.  Remain the gentlest.
And, never exchange love for anything…

The Art of Prayer

Dreams still come true in the land of heart’s ash.
During the day, we all wear halos made of zen,
And the angels sing of paradise.
When the lyricist fashions art with a pen,
Too often, the intention does not ripple like the words of the wise.

To not one’s surprise, practice and talent go hand in hand.
Rose bushes line the concrete walking path.
At night, moonlight flood paradise gardens.
Holographic butterflies map eternity
With a mere flap of their wings.

All is not as it seems when it comes to these creatures.
Their features glisten in twilight times.
Their features glisten with these rhymes.
Times are a’changing,
Life needs some orchestrating.
What happened to the flair of the debonair?
Where is the sanctity of the comedic situation?

God isn’t dead but inspiration just may be.

Why isn’t most everything seen as Heaven sent?
Seems to me, this awareness lies across the river Styx.
For all misgivings, may saintly creatures repent.
Where there is paucity, let undulant beauty find its place,
For the immaculate beauty of the world will never be erased.

Here I stand, comfortable and face to face with the divine.
Devoid of anxiety and fears, I pen this final line.

With laud,
Sean M. Smith

Free Verse #1

my love my adorable little dandelion
trying’ to love you is effortless
to the evils of the world we fake oblivious.
never amiss and always perceiving zion.

i know you to be the most interesting woman a’love
sometimes, i may seem distant,
the boring parts of life aren’t your fault.
you inspire me to feel joy about being alive.

i would have gone amiss long ago.
if it weren’t for incredible… you, boo.
so i will make excuses no more and remain loyal.

when i am with you, there is more to me
than storms and sunsets… ah, to be refreshed.

the thought of living without you
is nowhere to be found for now.
let me be sweet to you and show you
the world of love you deserve.

i will ignite the divine spark in your heart.

let’s transcend the state.
let’s cease to play platitude.
instead, let us maxim together.

wisdom exists within us
like never before experienced.
it is on us to save civilization
from the trials and tribulations of oppression.
the world is becoming a colder place,
which I never expected.

prior years seem to have been more kind and more stable.
to hold protect and cherish your heart I am willing and able..
thank you forth bottom of my heart
for never judging me as overtly sullen.

you are many things.
but, you have never been a loser
or weird or anything of that sort.

it hurts my heart to know
you fear that i see your moods in such a light.
pleasing you is the only quest that i care to know.

sometimes, i lose myself
in the unfounded fear
of losing you.
the worry of the tragedy
causes my casual heart to transform
the things of sanctity become nightmares, ghastly.

i don’t understand why.
so i sigh and cry,
yet I still try because
your saintly way
keeps me and the vicissitudes at work
On track for millions of years from now.

Sonnet #22

Sweet success sometimes becomes a rueful path.
When the world feels cold and dark, persevere.
Well-crafted morals compound into cheers.
Trust the compass.  And, envelope no wrath.

Delicate deeds do much for a soul’s worth.
Inspire the people like the youth observe
What we choose, for our life ought to preserve.
This beautiful Earth in all of its mirth.

Resound with class before the monolith.
Even when you’re quite bruised, stay enthused.
There’s no abyss, only flux. Remain kind bliss. Fuse
the unconscious with your light-heart.  You’re pith.
With time comes many opportunities
To nurture the lovely communities.

Prose Poem #1

As I pen this piece, I’ve everything to lose, I’ve much to gain.

Seems to me, lately, life’s not about being sure, but instead, life is about being who you are. And, most importantly, it’s about being certain of whom will be there for you when all seems like a heartless, desolate oblivion.

This is never ceasing gospel that prevents ghastly, ghostly, and lonesome regret.

Disdain remains in absentia. More or less kind and plain, I feel less lame, i feel less insane.
Taciturn and in pain, I reside at home from the holidays, writing to unwind with kind hearted warmth.

Still though, I feel so afraid.

Blissful and derelict
Hearts careen the city streets,
Oh young American love.
And its never-unravelling feats.

Me kissing tears off her face and her whispering angelic-apologetics
I teem with admiration and adoration for a woman
Whom admires everyone she meets.

Beyond yesterday’s world, today sparkles like glitter in the sense that it shall remain for quite some time.
Today’s wonder all too often undermined.

Life’s about the thoughts that stick, the things that make the clock happily tic’, and the poet’s shtick.

Alas! I miss playing her teeth like a xylophone!

Sure, she’s not my wife. But she’s indubitably an integral part of my 2017 life.

She has dirty blonde hair and pretty white teeth.
Her emerald ocean eyes glisten like the arboreal reef
And change into auroras when she experiences grief.

Hope my attitude won’t be proclaimed too long overdue.
There’s much to revere, much to laud, and many sins to exalt, for between me and you, solitude is more of a isolationist prison.

What of all the false starts? Are they merely an all too common tragedy of broken hearts?
Truth is, I am pretty new to relationships, which is pretty strange since I am rapidly approaching twenty-four.

Yet, I am not so stupid as to just walk away from the woman whom makes me spirits soar well above the star sphere into a tranquil place,
a rueful space that’s truly the nearest to salvation I’ve ever known;

This hyper-inspirational feeling of infinite grace is what I see when a smile, blesses her face.

Only so much can be healed from proclaiming, “I love you.”
At least, that’s what I used to think.

As my hair is twirled, all seems fine with my girl. She rewards direction and not frustration. She causes my fits of elation.

Present during my downfalls, when nothing but tears fall,
She clearly cares and rids the air of my despairs.

I don’t know what to think anymore;
However, I do know how to believe in love from before.
I believe it can be restored to a splendiferous state of fanciful glory.

That’s the beauty of life, isn’t it? That life’s willy-nilly glory can be revised and revisited until all that remains is a beautiful love story.

She’s the I love you to my breathe lines. She is the liberation and motivation of my free verse. She is the sun of my sweetest sonnets. She is the rhythm of my heart. She is the meter and rhyme in every line.

She is the reason I am making time to love my mind.

Our hair a mess, laying together undressed, cuddling for life, kissing away the pain. Her breasts pressed upon my chest. I really hope she cares more for me than the rest. Either she does or no man has ever been more of a fool.

Founded in our hearts and rarely-seething in our minds, I have faith in the grand design of the unknown future.  Wherever it may lead, I will have learned a lesson.

And, that will always be enough for me.

Half Asleep but Already Dreaming

“Mostly my fault?” I guess. I’ve been such a mess.
Can’t believe the mess I’ve been.

Neither can my family.

“Merry Christmas,” I guess. Christin’s a mess.
I’m the same.
So much shame,
For which we’ll never be the same,
For which I’m to blame.

With never-decaying affection,
Risen somewhere beyond tomorrow,
I hope to see her again.

She still chats with me.
Glee courses through me,
Through my heart
Down to my soul.

Things are droll.

Gives me hope.
Hope for all of us.
Dreams of tomorrows together
Abound and resound
In my bones.

“Here’s to luck,” I guess.