douglas brent smith

dry

the rain doesn't touch me

i'm too intent on dreaming

will you come along?

douglas brent smith 9 December 1973

Two

there is so much breathing

to share

live, create, feel, hold, release . . .

wanting so much to touch

this small soulful love

who already touched first

1973

Miniature

i became aware of

the poetry of existance

and of the artistry of

her voice

of her thin, gentle fingers and

the honesty of her eyes

1973

Wordless

when a friendship

grows deeper

and the desire for sharing

each and every moment

lasts

behind the level of acquaintance

the need to touch

grows stronger

tastefully (if allowed) space

to hold (carefully) emotions

silently

when words are not enough

. . . because

. . . words are never enough . . .

12/73

Note: I once wrote a play called "The Great Brain Robbery." This poem is from that period of time, in 1973, when I thought some things were much funnier than I do now. And, the basic premise of the play, that we are unconsciously surrendering our brains, still holds up.

Give Me Your Brain

you're certainly a silly one

afraid to give a brain

the whole world's grabbing for it

release it while you're sane

we need a brain like yours to use

in service to our cause

it won't help you once you're crazy

filled with riddles and with flaws

you're no Einstein nor a Curie

just a normal filled with fury

you're no Jesus why not please us

give that brain away

such a silly greedy one

clutching to your head

all your brain cells added up

won't matter when you're dead

give me your brain

it's not so much

a sibling cerebral skunk crutch

let it go now in this exchange

give me oh give me hey give me your brain

sensible

if a circle is

really a series of

triangles

how can we ever

expect to

make any sense

out of any

thing at all?

3 January 2023

Bottle Rocket

"Is that what I think it is?"

(she slams the oven door and grabs the bottle rocket out of the boys hand. She throws it toward the window but it bounces off the screen and lands amid the other fireworks.)

"Is that cherry pie?"

(she opens the oven and grabs the pie. It's hot and she nearly drops it but manages to set it on the floor.)

"Yes. That was a close one."

(a chain reaction of fire work sparklers light up the kitchen. Small popping sounds and Gilles. She grabs the boys hand and leads him in a gallop out of the kitchen. They both narrowly miss stepping in the pie on the way out. As soon as they are gone the whole kitchen explodes.)

"Shhhhh."

(She returns with a fire extinguisher and gets the exploding fireworks out. It's a mess. She picks up the miraculously in tact pie and carries it out. Wisps of smoke float gently around the kitchen. Pause.)

"Delicious."

-- douglas brent smith

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Context:

Written from a scene prompt, page 337 from "The Playwright's Handbook" by Stuart Spencer.