Four Poems by Mr. Smith

Jul 20th, 2009 | By | Category: Poetry


I ended it on the fourth of July

But still she cried and threw things at me.

That’s the trouble with American girls:

They don’t ‘do’ Irony.


If I’m lying, she said, may the ground open up and swallow me.

And as the words left her lips a sound like thunder filled the air.
It was only a passing motorcycle

But Christ, did it make her jump.


On Buying a Curry from an Unknown Restaurant While on Holiday

Toothy crunch on crispy shell

Tongue seeking clues among meat and vegetation

An answer to the unvoiced question:

Cockroach or cardamom?


Indian Haiku

Teeth crunching on shell

Nervous tongue seeking answers



Mr Smith lives in Tunbridge Wells, England, but is not particularly disgusted. This is ‘English humour’. If you don’t get it, you are probably not English. Or maybe you are English but too young. Or English but lacking a sense of humour.

Most of the verse Mr Smith writes is written for children, but occasionally he writes for childish adults too. Mr Smith briefly lived on the moon and once punched a koala in the face.

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