Month / November 2015

by J.L. Smith

Eskimo Pie

I am pleased to announce that Eskimo Pie has accepted 3 of my old school poems for its February issue!  When I say “old school” I  really mean old school!  Two of these poems were written 17 years ago (in my undergraduate creative writing courses no less!), with the third written about 14 years ago.  These, admittedly, were hard to place and I am glad finally to have found a home for them.  Although I did revise them, I left the gist and the overall blueprint of the original poems intact.  Looking back on them, I see a lot of growth as a poet.

Have you ever revisited an earlier work only to see how far you’ve come in your writing?  Yeah, these poems have done that for me.  I am thankful they have found a home.

I look forward to seeing “The Reflex”, “The Drop Off”, and “Crossed Eyes” in February!

 

by J.L. Smith

Throwback Thusday/Happy Thanksgiving!

This one was published back in August by the Eunoia Review.  Ah, the old creative writing work shop days. 

A happy poem

Posted on August 28, 2015 by

about desertion
and hypocrisy, it was.
Finally, a happy poem, she says,
her eyes crinkled in a smile.

My workshop mates groaned,
although a few of them had
remarked more or less the same.

I had been a poet for less than nine months,
and I had yet to workshop a sentimental piece
about some lost love,
some childhood play place or
some lost pet or friend.
No, I chose to pull them into
my bottomless cauldron of
sales clerks prostituting for commissions,
pretentious people airing their tortured souls
for art, among other things,
but nothing pretty or happy
until now,
or,
at least not as biting as the others she had seen.

When the groaners ask what is so
happy about an affluent man who
after criticizing the local crowd, finds
himself stuck in a dirty
cafe after dark in an unknown town,
she stays by her word,
asks me for a copy to keep,
before folding it into a square
she can keep in her pocket.

by J.L. Smith

Throwback Thursday – Sitting in my bathroom

This poem was published in the Yellow Chair Review’s third issue in July 2015: Sitting in My Bathroom with Nothing Better to do.

This poem was writing while I lived on base in Oklahoma (Tinker AFB).  Actually happen.  Naughty, but cute puppy, indeed.  Enjoy!

Sitting in the Bathroom with Nothing Better to Do

 

The shower water raged
above my apartment but it did
nothing to dampen his voice.
Get out of my way!
His anger seeped into my
bathroom wall, pouring
in from his living room
on the other side.
That’s more money spent!
What have you to say for yourself?
The gentle voice tried to patch
the cracks in his voice, but
still the water wept in.
I tried, I really tried.
Leaving my bath tub ledge,
I hoped the pipes would clear
by the time I returned with the mail
and they did stop.
Later, as the hot water washed over me,
I remembered his nod and
the puppy’s happy tail as both
greeted me outside.
I waved with my letters in hand;
He waved with the soiled rug and
torn newspaper before returning to
his small friend,
I can’t believe you did that.