Tag Archives: reflecting


Lately, every time I
pick up a pen
songs come to mind.
First lines that invite
joy sorrow love hope from
times I only vaguely
recall, memories long faded
leaving only the
resonating emotions.

Feelings betray me
pushing up random smiles
shoving out unexpected tears
pulling up old songs;
playing the familiar tunes in my head
to keep themselves awake.

I wish they were dormant
not mingling with my present
to at least allow me to
pretend to be peaceful.

© 2011 Shari Lynne Smothers

Process notes: First, old songs brought up old feelings and faded memories. Then I wondered about what it was exactly that brought me to the old music.

Hitting Bottom

Each piece of my life
has a voice clamoring
for first action.
Some days they all
come shouting in
deafening me,
crushing me under
the weight of hurled indictments.

They are ham-fisted thuds
crashing into my face
from behind my eyes,
the band that tightens
across my brow,
the weight that
strains my back. I spin to
move away from one
only to smack into another.

I am dizzy, weary from
constantly whirling, moving aimlessly,
fruitlessly, unable to
protect me from my
actions and words unwelcome
that just    keep    coming.

Until finally,
I collapse.
To the ground.
It’s quiet then—
my first peace.

Breathing deeply
it becomes clear to me:
there is only
from here.

© 2011 Shari Lynne Smothers

This poem is part of my #SHINEonline challenge commitment for 2 posts weekly; #3 for the 1st week.

Acorn Smash

I remember a time, tho’ long ago
when stepping on an acorn was play
that could roll me off balance.
I could stumble dizzyingly,
happily unsure of my footing
as I reveled in the freedom,
soaking in all the sensations I could hold.
Somehow wistfully appreciative
of a time I knew I could not remain in.

That time long ago saw me pounds lighter
feet shorter, burdens fewer, decades younger,
regrets unthought of as every possibility
lay at my feet. Myriad red carpets covered
the wide expanse of the golden road into my future,
all present for me to choose one or many.

I thought about that today
on my walk to a neighborhood store
as I came upon a fallen acorn.
No fear of rolling off it today
I stepped on it and felt
the acorn smash.

© 2011 Shari Lynne Smothers

Haunted Holidays

‘Tis the season to be jolly.
So goes the holiday rhetoric.
Leave the melancholy we come to know
as we age, at home, behind us
as we head off to
holiday celebrations.

The memories can come.
After all, what’s a day of joy
without a thought to my missed father
or the grandmothers who
got things started before him.

Comes a time their histories
the joys they brought to the season
outweigh for at least the days’ rejoicing
the heaviness of missing them.
Discussing them, we play the funny
happy scenarios over and laugh
again at our antics and how good
we were with them.

Flying high on the euphoria of
the great feeling they left with me,
softens the landing back at reality
in the days just after the parties end.
Time to settle back into daily routines
with the memories of them and somewhere in,
the new holiday stories I make
apart from, and yet, because of them.

© 2010 Shari Lynne Smothers

How Long?

It’s the question I have just now.
How long before crazy
starts to show on my face
spawned of the stress of life
un- and under-employment,
words said in poetic verse
to the universe with no one
interested to hear or read once?

Months of intermittent sleepless nights
start to betray me in my speech,
filled with disconnected thoughts and
what looks like nodding off in mid-sentence
is already my lot.

So, I just need to know when will it show
in my face and my actions
for all to look and see, possibly even
staring and laughing at me?
And one more: if this should show up on me,
will people tell me or just let me be,
looking all crazy and everything?

© 2010 Shari Lynne Smothers

Process Note: I remember a song that talked about the way you feel showing on your face. I thought about some of the faces I see and the stories that lie behind their eyes. And I wondered when it is that we become so readable to others. And another thought for future writing: what is it that transforms thoughts, feelings and experiences into the stuff that makes up our physical appearance.