Any student of fairytales will tell youAlmost nothing is as essential asA missing mother. The journeys and adventures belongTo the orphaned and abandoned;Not to those tucked safely in bed,Left with a warm kiss on their brow. For the longest time I thoughtThis must be a plot imperative.Of course there must be an absenceTo trigger the …
Author Archives: A.C. Smith
Questions
We commiserate so oftenAbout all the questionsOur children askThe constant chorusOf WHY, WHY, WHY? But maybe we shouldThink more about theQuestions they don’t ask. The things they knowAlready are too secretOr too shamefulTo be spoken aloud, The places they pick upOn our uneasy shifting,The averted gaze,The quick distraction; Or worse – the pregnant Pause before …
A Thanksgiving
There are some acts of kindnessSo profound that they go beyondOur ability to ever return the favour.All we can do is pay it forwardIn a spirit of blessed gratitude,Marvelling that the world can beFull of such kindness and grace.And at the very darkest of timesThat spirit of generosity will shineWarming our hands and our heartsAs …
Introducing: Where The Roses Bloom – the Newsletter
The time has come! I’m creating an email list / newsletter. Basically, it means you can sign up to get updates by email, to your inbox, instead of coming to this site or checking social media. Important stuff first… Why you might want to sign up: Find out when there are new posts on Where …
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Seeing stories
For Mat Hale A cameraIs a machine, butBehind that machine is theEye of an artistWatching Or seeingThat’s a better wordFor eyes that look deeperAnd find truths thatNeed light But is itPowerful enoughFor the alchemy that goesInto capturing lifeVia a lens I needNew words forTurning vision to language –Maybe silenceIs best A lifeSeeing storiesIs a life …
“More fun this time” – a cancer motto
It would be an understatement to say that my cancer treatment the first time around was not a whole lot of fun. I was so traumatised, both from the birth and the cancer experience, that I felt like I was living in a state of continuous PTSD for much of my treatment. The level of …
These Hands
For Lia These hands have held babies,Soothed fevered brows,Held tightly to others in excitementAnd in love. These hands have created beauty,Shaping art from life,Finding the line, the gestureAt the essence. These hands have tied themselvesIn imagined knots,Working over worries and problems –Then releasing them. These hands have crafted feasts,Made a thousand sandwiches,Fed hungry mouths withMore …
14 July 2021
A waterfall of tears.A river of tears.An ocean of tears.Which tributaries must I followTo come to dry land?The water pours, poundsDown in violent sheetsAnd still it is not enoughTo wash awayMy sadness orThis reality.All I see isBlue blue blueAnd the mist risingFrom the water woundWhere each drop lands:A resurrected end. Photo by Stephen Walker on …
Dreams of singing
Isn’t it strangeI keep havingDreams of singing? Or perhaps itIs not strangeAt all. My consciousMind hasForgotten how. But in my dreamsI remember howIt feels. Breath,Sound,Vibration. Is it a memory?More likelyA message. Today I satAt the pianoJust to see. My voice was Quiet butStill there. It survivedAbuse, criticismAnd neglect. Was itBeautiful?Who cares? The pointIs notTo impress. …
Dear pigeons
Based on / a true story I’m sorry I droppedSome wasabi peasDown where you satEagerly under myBench, waiting forWhatever may come. I wanted to tell youIt wasn’t intentional.I can imagine thatWasabi may lead toAvian indigestionAnd beak irritation. Although of courseIf any birds were goingTo enjoy wasabi peasIt would certainly beLondon’s cosmopolitanPigeon population. They just slipped …