We All Got To Go From Here

Time to answer for myself
is ever looming before me.
Every day, I’m older
move and heal a little slower,
careening toward an ending
of my time here I can’t see
but am fully aware is coming.

On my way
I work to keep my load light
void of guilt wherever I can drop it.
Trying to do the right thing first
before I have to be told
I was wrong for something.
Aside from that
making amends when wrong seemed
my better alternative.

I live in interesting times.
And had I been born
in a different era
my hope is
I’d still be one to stop
to appreciate things.
Simply marvelous.
The butterfly lighting
lithely on the tip of the dandelion.

Breathtakingly warm
The school girl who’s dad
fresh from military service
greets her in class,
surprising her takes her breath away
drawing tears from her barely believing eyes.

Brutally horrific
The grown ass man
who fires 10 rounds into
a car of unarmed black youth
because he didn’t like their music
or their lack of regard for him;
The jury of his peers
can’t agree it was murder
even after finding him guilty of
attempted murder against
the ones who lived.

I marvel at the craziness of it
the changing landscape of killing.
Thinking of how we are forced
to learn history dates names places and facts
we never learn from
only repeat the same jacked up mistakes
with a different face
and maybe a twist on the specifics.

One thing that never changes
in this world of unoriginal
sin and mediocrity,
we all have to go from here.
I believe we all have to answer
for the smarmy things we do.
I wish others believed
really believed
and maybe
they’d try to do better
while they’re still here
inflicting themselves on others.
It’d be kinda cool
to be in a world where
it looked like
good people were in the majority.

Time and tide . . .

© 2014 Shari Lynne Smothers

Out of Complacency

And so goes the time
we wish to spend
productively, creatively
for personal benefit.
One day blends into the previous,
sun going down and rising again
it’s only herald
of change
of possibility.

What difference will ignite
the battle cry
leading the charge
against complacency
against lethargy
into possibility
into embracing self
in the newness of life
in the promise
inherent in the grace of

It is the Soul cry,
It is the action of
doing something
to take hold of what is mine
to claim or discard,
either, because choosing
and doing are the tools
to snatch myself
out of complacency
In defiance of all that rallies
to keep me in
the perpetual fog of
“Okay, but tomorrow.”

© 2014 by Shari Lynne Smothers

A Long Way from Home

It seems I’ve forgot
the science of poetry,
fallen out of step with it’s
rhythms and sundry metrics.
Ever more frequently I’m become
clingy to dictionaries and thesauri
convinced I’m bereft of even
minor right words for even
the lesser lines.

Time has lied regularly lately
saying he’s on his way.
Write when I get there, he says.
I’ll give you plenty space
to record your powerful thoughts.

Somewhere along my way,
has taken over my home
denying and permitting my
residency at his discretion.
Like anybody else seduced by
the lie that there would one day come
Time Enough, I stayed my return
and allowed my busyness to keep me
from pen and pad to rest my
‘powerful thoughts’ that used to be
my primary home, no matter what.

Back here, today, though
after so long
so far away,
I slip easily into the welcome
remembered familiarity
and something more…
I understand,
my poetry has missed me too.

© 2013 by Shari Lynne Smothers

A Monday Haiku

Spring Time’s Power to Incite is nothing new to me. Every year, nature’s clock ticks into this season that inspires me to contemplate being on the cusp of all possibility.


Spring lights soft
whispers to sleeping
dreams wake, make life new.


Temperatures rise
thawing, clearing winter’s frosts
summoning blossoms.


Comes boldly raining
dreamed of hopes flowering into
vivid reality.

©2013 Shari Lynne Smothers

What Will Come

August breeze blows into me,
delivering first respite
from sweltering deep south heat
that kept my skin cooking
even standing still.

    A short step
into newly temperate air
inspires quiet ideas
brimming with potential
    tugging at my attentions.
Brings forth a soft smile
in anticipation of
nothing concrete
only tangible
    as possibility can be.
Causes just the slightest
quiver in my stomach —
imagination tinged with a promise
that what will come —
    it’s gonna be good.

    I welcome the
    august breeze blowing in to me.

© Shari Lynne Smothers 9/12/12


In preparing for my time off from work, I am going back in my journals to pull poems I like. Rather than wait until Day 1 of my Christmas holiday vacation, I’m kicking things off a week early.

Summer to Fall in New Orleans is a great time, and very special for me. The first break from the 90s to 100s is a magical renewing gift. This poem is one that blew off the branch to land on my page.