Florence P. Wordsmith

Florence P. Wordsmith Poems

the trembling of my hand
fate's string dangles
twisting my vision to one
that cannot be
...

It's been four weeks since
I landed on this forsaken
island
I'm all alone here
...

Walking down the street one day
I saw a little lad
The boy just danced right up to me
and said 'You are my dad! '
...

I remember a time before the machines
before we were forced into slavery
ignorant of what was happening to us
we spent our hours staring at a screen
...

What's the point of havin' birthdays
If there are no gifts to give
When love is spent and sorrow's earned
And you've got one less year to live
...

In the night I feel it there
The darkness in my heart
It's beating gives me quite a scare
It's tearing me apart
...

It's the eye of the tiger
It's the thrill of the fight
Living up to the challenge of our rival
And the last known survivor
...

A tired horse climbed up the stair
Of the bar after a race
The bartender glanced at the mare
Inquired him: 'Why the long face? '
...

I had a fish who ran away
I had a horse who choked on hay
I had a cat who died nine times
I had a goat who couldn't climb
...

I was born at an early age
I grew up throughout my childhood
I experienced adolescence in my teens
And reached maturity as I became an adult
...

time flows by
relentlessly like a river
you cannot reclaim those lost hours
but only move forward
...

things just aint the same here
nothin's like it used to be
been forty years since I was happy
since I've seen a bird or tree
...

13.

There's nothing like a good Po Em
to stir my soul

There's nothing like a good Po Em
...

I hear voices in my head
Sometimes they tell me to do good things
Other times, not so much
I tried to ignore them at first
...

1010010011101101
1100101001010111
1010000100100110
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...

the masks we wear
the things we share
none of this is true
a real feeling
...

Don't go outside, my mother said
all there is sickness
but I was a curious, dumb young lad
my skull not lacking thickness
...

Every time the music starts
I get that good ol' Mennonite feeling
To get up out of my seat and start to move
Towards the door
...

Florence P. Wordsmith Biography

I found my burning desire to write during my late teens, while staying with some friends of mine in a monastery in Lahij, in the southern part of Yemen. While in the company of Father Serj, I learned a good deal about life, love, and laughter. But my journey was only just beginning. Due to the age limit of apprentice monks, I was forced to leave the sacred place at the age of 22. From there I traveled, by foot, up north, through Saudi Arabia to India, where I worked as an assistant to an elephant doctor. It was there I learned how metaphors shape the changes that reality serves us. From there I spent many days in various deserts in Europe, helping villages dig wells for oil so that they could sustain themselves. It was here that my colleagues gave me the name Florence- since the name bestowed upon me by Fathers Serj and Tanktepoheepapylon was proving to be difficult for caucasians to pronounce. Only later would I realize that the name Florence was generally associated with the female gender, and since I was male, this was the cause of much confusion. I visited various other countries throughout my journey, such as Paraguay, Australia, and the ever exotic Canada. During my treks, I found the only way I could truly express myself was in verse, with the exception of various post-it notes that I used to keep track of my inner-most thoughts. I hope you enjoy the poetry as much as I enjoyed writing it, hopefully much, much, much more.)

The Best Poem Of Florence P. Wordsmith

A Serious Poem

the trembling of my hand
fate's string dangles
twisting my vision to one
that cannot be
the dust settles callously
over the meandering stream of thought
throughout the forest of my pain
I cannot guess the times
that fortune has passed me by
in favor of the senseless drudging
of the moon's cool heat
upon a summer's first snowfall

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