Smith Hill Chronicles
A River of Clouds flowing between stark cliffs of despair;
My ship ploughs the waves.
Surging against the currents, skirting the rocks and the snares,
Seeking peace I crave
Floating between the sky and clouds, shedding stresses and tears,
I’m drifting amazed.
A life of fortune and misfortune, of lovers and fears,
Often, I stand dazed.
Trembling with anticipation, I’m straining to be free,
Gazing across chasms of my ‘desert mentality’.
I am not hopeless.
My imagination supplies me with the ‘missing font’,
With Peace, I’m surfeit
Don't let life become a graveyard of buried hopes.
Today’s circumstances might seem to be bleak,
Perhaps you think your life right now is on the ropes.
“This too shall pass” are words that many wise men speak.
Words express thoughts, but often not what’s the heart.
Some say the heart deceives us, not to be trusted.
Love shines from within, this knowledge is a great start,
Accepting this, your life then can be degusted.
No bleak surroundings, difficulties ensuing,
Can take away your bliss, lest you surrender it.
Hold fast to your dreams, then with hopeful renewal,
A new day will arise, all your dreams to acquit.
Dismality cannot persist, where hope holds sway,
Let not your dreams escape, nor ever fade away.
“Graveyard of Buried Hopes”
Jerry E Smith
The Set up
In my teenage years, especially 16-18, I was in almost constant conflict with my father.
I was a Hippy, long hair and loud rock music, smoking pot, drinking,
flower patches sewed on my jeans.
My Father was born in 1914, he had no IDEA what to do with or think of me.
And yet, he really did give me a lot of ‘space’ in which to explore who I was.
But emotionally, we were always at loggerheads.
Meanwhile, Mama was my soul mate, she stood up for me with Daddy,
she turned a blind eye to my smoking.
She was the motive force behind my beginning music lessons.
Given this scenario, me being the rebel, very much into nature,
roaming the woods and the river banks, I had many
Fantasies of running off into the woods and becoming a hermit.
One of those daydreams, centered around a gully in the bank of the river,
that began at the edge of the road and went down to the edge of the water.
It was undoubtedly begun by water run-off, but at this time, it was dry.
I fantasized about laying logs over the top, to form a room,
digging it out and making a living space for myself.
I had walked down to the gully, not too long after some substantial rain,
the purpose being to ascertain how much, If any, water went down through the
gully to the river.
Standing at the edge of the dirt road, looking down into the gully,
the mud around my feet suddenly liquefied, and I was sucked down in to the darkness.Swirling, spinning in what I surmised (in the way of dreams)
I was being carried along in an ‘underground river’.
Knowing in my head, that these are not channels of water
large enough to carry someone in the current, in the dream world, that didn’t matter.
I struggled upward, I was running out of air!
At the top of the cave/channel, I found a pocket of air and went up gasping.
Soon, I’d caught my breath.
For a long, interminable amount of time, that was my existence; going from
bubble to bubble, from one pocket of air to another.
I’d occasionally find a pocket that was actually part of a cave; I could tell by the
echoes of my breathing it was a large space.
Exploring (in total darkness) I found a ledge where I could climb out and rest…
Being hungry, I ate whatever I found by touch that was alive, raw of course.
Time ceased to have meaning. The clothes I’d been wearing were gone, rotted and torn away.
Finally, after I knew not how long, I came up to a pool that was an opening to the outside!!!
I saw stars, the moonlight hurt my eyes it was so bright.
I stumbled in the darkness until I found a road, people found me,
a naked, bearded bone white, white man.
I got food, was taken by the sheriff to the hospital where I was examined.
Two Years had passed since I was sucked into the void.
I had resurface outside of Brunswick Ga, some 200 mi from home.
I got a ride home, walked into “The Shop”, my Father’s Mechanics Garage.
He was overjoyed to see me, but it was bittersweet, because my Mama had
died of a broken heart not long after I’d disappeared.
”My Newly Remembered Dream”
Jerry E Smith
On a spit of land stands a boulder, resolutely defying the flow.
Flood waters come and go, eroding and pushing, with no
Progress to show. Sometimes, the currents are
Irresistible; the boulder begins to budge.
Remaining steadfastly present, the
Stream now receives a the nudge.
Changing course around it, the
Banks adapting, & becoming
New. When we know that
We are right on the path
We’ve chosen to walk,
There will be flowing
Currents to oppose
Us; like the rock
In the stream,
“Like a boulder” by
Jerry E Smith
Twirling and whirling, iridescently glowing,
Our thoughts sometimes fly.
Singing and flinging, harmoniously crowing,
Our voices raised on high.
Reflecting and rejecting, confusion reigning,
Our minds cannot grasp,
Knowing and Growing, reason explaining,
Understanding faith at last.
“Twirling and Swirling” by
Jerry E Smith
About the author:
I write poetry, which I hope is inspirational.
I am also a working musician, in that I am an old guy who is still making money working and playing music.
I've been playing now for 51 yrs
These days I mainly play for older folks in Nursing Home, Assisted Living and Retirement Communities, plus the occasional party or wedding.