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These Things are a One Thing©
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and e. smith sleigh
and e. smith sleigh
and e. smith sleigh enjoy the website
this day
in the morning dusk
riding in
on dawn's breath
from the half sung past
into and forever
the future
today
pauses
on its journey
e. smith sleigh
from the Eternal Nature series
in the morning dusk
riding in
on dawn's breath
from the half sung past
into and forever
the future
today
pauses
on its journey
e. smith sleigh
from the Eternal Nature series
images images freeverse poetry images books poems
Purchase a book, take a seat, the free verse was written to entertain --e. smith sleigh
Excerpts below Excerpts below
http://amzn.to/ijj6O2 These Things are a One Thing©
My Video Poem SKY:
A certain recluse I know not once said that no bonds attached him to this life and the only thing he would regret leaving was the Sky. -- Kenko Yoshida
These Things are a One Thing
Available on Amazon Kindle
A musical tribute to the literary journal Danse Macabre: http://youtu.be/csJJIp7jCYA from Camille Saint Saens
a winter remembrance
in the wintry city of words
the things visited me
without criteria
they came to judge
without warning
they appeared
in the sound of my footsteps
crunching frost
they tracked me
across my yard
across the sea of gray grass nettles
they left no tracts in the snow
they flew to the roofline
perched on the gutters
broke off the icicles
and hurled them at my heart
just when I thought
my fiery, cold love
was in its grave
these things took me back
to an ice sculpture on a table
bitter arctic winds
the cracking sound
of a temporary art
and a temporary love
shattered on icy ground
e. smith sleigh
from These Things are a One Thing
in the wintry city of words
the things visited me
without criteria
they came to judge
without warning
they appeared
in the sound of my footsteps
crunching frost
they tracked me
across my yard
across the sea of gray grass nettles
they left no tracts in the snow
they flew to the roofline
perched on the gutters
broke off the icicles
and hurled them at my heart
just when I thought
my fiery, cold love
was in its grave
these things took me back
to an ice sculpture on a table
bitter arctic winds
the cracking sound
of a temporary art
and a temporary love
shattered on icy ground
e. smith sleigh
from These Things are a One Thing
Purchase These Things are a One Thing© and the Eternal Nature series
on Amazon at their Kindle Book Store
http://amzn.to/ijj6O2 These Things
http://amzn.to/nM2Hxu Our Nature
http://amzn.to/zPyncK This Nature
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The Eternal Nature series:
I've composed two books within the series, so far. My ebooks are for sale at Amazon's Kindle bookstore: Our Nature: External Landscapes© http://amzn.to/nM2Hxu and This Nature: Internal Landscapes© http://amzn.to/zPyncK ---------------------------------- "The freeverse within the Nature series describes with candor, and sometimes wit, her visual encounters in the external and internal landscapes. Sleigh assigns her interpretations to objects and emotions in nature and life. The reader journies with her on an adventure across the literal and psychic countryside. Through the dawns and dusks of the seasons of life and love, her poems move the reader toward the inevitable ending that envelopes the reader in surprise." --------------------------------- More information about e. smith sleigh's latest endeavors can be found on the next page of this website. See tabs above, at top of page. |
 Our Nature: External Landscapes Available at Amazon Purchase Price $3.99 
This Nature: Internal Landscapes Purchase Price $3.99
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turning
the things stood between the arid and the arable planting their feet, tending ground laying a swathe of green to brown through the hemisphere from west to east the landscape forever changing assumes a new mantle the things challenge life to survive, to adapt the lazy disappear, the weak disintegrate and return to the ever-changing ground when acknowledged, the things permutate henny-penny screams 2012 the sky is falling, yells UN global stooges and boogie men corporate deviants screwing their mother to anyone who listens to the thrashing, crashing sound what things determine my fate, are they within me or without me Tierra Madre always declares ‘what goes 'round comes 'round’ e. smith sleigh from These Things are a One Thing |
 e. smith sleigh I began to write poetry when I was five years old. My words described the love I felt for life, writing, the arts, and my childhood sweetheart. Now, my words
move outward away from shelter and into the world. They depict a broader spectrum of life. Yes, I sometimes call for reason in a world that currently seems without it. I tell myself other generations lived through similar eras. They continued to write. I allow this tumultuous time in our world to inspire me. I work past midnight with my muse at my side to portray both the outer and inner world of our existence. Sometimes lines are drawn within my art, sometimes they are not; but, I give myself the freedom to write from my head and my heart. I invite you to visit my website, experience my free verse, and purchase my collection of poetry on Amazon Kindle http://amzn.to/ijj6O2 , http://amzn.to/nM2Hxu , and http://amzn.to/zPyncK --e. smith sleigh |
Poessay
sold short this world imploded
my walk down the sidewalk into the gated suburbia home seemed peaceful enough appeared peaceful enough but there were whispers beyond the curbs and stacked threats in the mail box by the door through large hazy rooms ghost-echoes of random phone calls hoping to fall on random embarrassed ears bounced off the high ceilings and broke the silence outside the windows denial-shadows hung from the trees like moss old Christmas-decoration-nails scarred the roof overhang with rust the ground underneath the house shook intermittently from the inhabitants' once-immense worry in suburban land escapeville now made desperate from the surcease of…life governments' unfulfilled promises and corporate bank cronies’ letters and lies ripped the lawn out from underneath the house and the bed from under the bodies of the children and pets who dwelled there unannounced purpose left the smell of rotting corpses in the back of the house black jugular blood on marble is at once slippery and sticky
--e. smith sleigh
sold short this world imploded
my walk down the sidewalk into the gated suburbia home seemed peaceful enough appeared peaceful enough but there were whispers beyond the curbs and stacked threats in the mail box by the door through large hazy rooms ghost-echoes of random phone calls hoping to fall on random embarrassed ears bounced off the high ceilings and broke the silence outside the windows denial-shadows hung from the trees like moss old Christmas-decoration-nails scarred the roof overhang with rust the ground underneath the house shook intermittently from the inhabitants' once-immense worry in suburban land escapeville now made desperate from the surcease of…life governments' unfulfilled promises and corporate bank cronies’ letters and lies ripped the lawn out from underneath the house and the bed from under the bodies of the children and pets who dwelled there unannounced purpose left the smell of rotting corpses in the back of the house black jugular blood on marble is at once slippery and sticky
--e. smith sleigh
familiarity
this existence
this thing
called I
continues
I can only
accept
it now
because I
know
nothing else
in my lifetime
I've discovered
that time
is also
a place
and I have
arrived here
in this fleeting moment
with this thing
called I
--e. smith sleigh
from THIS NATURE: Internal Landscapes http://amzn.to/zPyncK
"these things are a one thing, but why is it all eyes"
spark
burned for her vision
Joan waits there for me
burned without being burned
my skin still bears
the scars
effulgent injustices
done to visionaries
and strong women
by frightened folk
maintain myths
and the silent grade
status quo seekers
and myth chasers
use their doctrine of silence
as an excuse
for a bonfire murder
conflagration and ardors
produce martyrs
whose ghosts scream
for pyrotechnic
incandescent revenge
hello Joan
--e. smith sleigh
from THIS NATURE: Internal Landscapes http://amzn.to/zPyncK
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http://amzn.to/ijj6O2 These Things are a One Thing©
 not G rated  |
  edgy writing |
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http://amzn.to/ijj6O2 These Things are a One Thing©
Yeats’ Incantations
baby William rode from Sandymount
nursed by the isle, held by his mother
he heard the sweet lilting talk of her love
the rhythm of travel
the rhyme of mother’s tongue
coalesced in sky above
the green earth bellows in review
child, your quavering incantations will have
a unique power all their own
what do you want Eireannaigh to know
from Sandymount, Sligo, to Slough
William Butler Yeats, green Erin's son
wrote sonnets to her life
penned foul when he saw injustice
at green Erin's door
Yeats composed, wrote change for his country
called for freedom, cried liberation
for his land, for his art, his word
for love, the love of fair Erin
and the suppressed misled
the prose, their prose
their world that was lost and found
by green Erin's son, Yeats, who penned foul from Slough
penned Celtic Easter 1916, demanded free
saw the wilted in the fields and sang his sorrow
joined the battle with his pen, his ink flowed
like the blood through the land
from Sandymount, Sligo, to Slough, to the Senate
“Yeats' quavering incantations have a power all their own”
what does he want you to do, Aos
what does he want you to know
--e. smith sleigh
from THIS NATURE: Internal Landscapes http://amzn.to/zPyncK
baby William rode from Sandymount
nursed by the isle, held by his mother
he heard the sweet lilting talk of her love
the rhythm of travel
the rhyme of mother’s tongue
coalesced in sky above
the green earth bellows in review
child, your quavering incantations will have
a unique power all their own
what do you want Eireannaigh to know
from Sandymount, Sligo, to Slough
William Butler Yeats, green Erin's son
wrote sonnets to her life
penned foul when he saw injustice
at green Erin's door
Yeats composed, wrote change for his country
called for freedom, cried liberation
for his land, for his art, his word
for love, the love of fair Erin
and the suppressed misled
the prose, their prose
their world that was lost and found
by green Erin's son, Yeats, who penned foul from Slough
penned Celtic Easter 1916, demanded free
saw the wilted in the fields and sang his sorrow
joined the battle with his pen, his ink flowed
like the blood through the land
from Sandymount, Sligo, to Slough, to the Senate
“Yeats' quavering incantations have a power all their own”
what does he want you to do, Aos
what does he want you to know
--e. smith sleigh
from THIS NATURE: Internal Landscapes http://amzn.to/zPyncK
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http://amzn.to/ijj6O2 These Things are a One Thing©
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