there at last

brick by brick the

hard high wall around me

began to fall

with music so soft

only intimate ears

could hear

when with that wonderful

tenderness so overflowing in you

you touched my aching

concrete cynicism

and kissed my world weary

mind into dreams

of singing

laughs of growing

and joys

of being alive

like each bare brick

of that wall

you slowly, oh so

carefully dismounted the doubts

freed the fears

and with quiet little steps

entered my heart

in a halo of rebirth

revealing that

there were once two loves in my

crowded carefully plotted

closed-hearted life:

my rusted roaming van and my

faithful guitar and

now

as sunrise welcomes Spring as

living brings new growth

i joyfully see

three.

-- douglas brent smith

 

A Pipe Organ

 

sketch: Pipe Organ (More of the Pipe Saga), by douglas brent smith

During the period of time when I occasionally drew an addition to the Pipe Saga, my dad smoked a pipe. He had sense to quit later, but while he did the smell was wonderful. The pipes I drew were humorous and with a nod to the surrealists, especially Magritte who was at the time perhaps my favorite artist. 

On a more fantastical note, I really would like to play that pipe organ, wouldn't you?

H.B.E.

(pretty little almond eyes

sleeping next to me

breathing such sweet loving sighs

questionless and free

pretty little almond eyes

snuggle close to me)

with unexpected joy i find you with

your welcoming radiance

a once illusive happiness

floods into my soul

reckless and free

a thousand wild laughing tingles

glowing from the flow

of days with you

and nights with you

and secrets we both know

(high brown eyes

h.b.e.

waking next to me

whispering about your dreams

such sweet certainty

pretty little almond eyes

share this world with me.)

-- douglas brent smith

 

Analysis Sketch with Stars

 

Analysis Training Sketch with Stars, from journal #12, Never Doubt (1978).

Sketch: Early Mustard Seed Theatre Company

 sketch from journal #12, never doubt, 1978.

This is a drawing of Peter Hoff (now known as Zeke Peterhoff, and me, wearing our Mustard Seed Theatre Company T-shirts and apparently juggling with our minds.

Good times.

and the radio played

sunlight shimmers in

her eyes her

breasts dance with

each tiny breath

whispering

my name

-- doug smith

 

Making Ends Meet

Notes:

It was a lean time, surviving on peanut butter, pasta, and soup and enjoying the freedom that a wide-open schedule provided where even at work I could draw, write, compose. Ah, but I was young and my sense of humor perhaps more crude than good and cartoons like this resulted. 

It's silly, but there it is.

caught

if you catch me

counting stars

some night

when i should be

gazing into your eyes

or if a tear drop

forms when we

should be 

celebrating

chalk it up

to mystery

or a muse chasing

escaping vibrations

but never blame your

self and never doubt

our love.

-- douglas brent smith

 

Mysterious Towers

Notes:

I remember as a child being fascinating by the concept of Figures in text books. Illustrations were often labeled Figure 1, Figure 2, etc. I wondered, "why don't they just print the title of the picture?" but never found out.

In fun and tribute, I named this doodle Figure 1. It appears in journal #12, never doubt, 1978.

the gold standard

someone found sparkly yellow

stuff, indifferent deep in the ground

wet in pebbles too thick to drink

too heavy for wheels

small quantities scattered

"let's make it money"

they said "because it's so pretty..."

now everybody wants what was 

in fort knox as if

every heavy clunk of gold

held a genie inside

with three wishes for riches

and what do you 

do with them

but 

wish for more gold

-- douglas brent smith

 

chords

can you still feel my cords? she

said often after the heat had subsided

and we were nearing sleep

at first i said yes, even though

i had no idea where they were

or if they still were

but like so many other lessons

from you i learned

after learning every square lovely

inch of your warm body

where your chords were

cords

there were other chords, also: lines

from your soul to mine

gullible at your will

veins

mixing sunbursts with rain

notes from my guitar, chords

calling your name

after long walks with puppy dog

after altercations over where

each or both of us would live (tell me)

can you still feel my chords

a thousand miles away?

-- douglas brent smith

 

Washing Down The Phone

I drew this cartoon in 1977 -- long before we carried around mobile phones. Every phone was attached in someway to a wall. The phones were heavy enough and strong enough to withstand an alien attack, a building collapse, or a major earthquake. You didn't own them, you rented them. Not exactly the good old days.

Of course when the phones got dirty, we just hosed them down.

-- doug smith