Daft Skint of wisdom I strained to capture, push-ups propelled my fitness regime. I worked my six-pack, women’s rapture, skint of wisdom. I strained to capture zest when I suffered a contracture earning male respect for self-esteem. Skint of wisdom I strained to capture, push-ups propelled my fitness regime.
Clouds Racing Overhead Through binoculars I spot a yacht, a man, his woman, hair streaming free. Horizon stretched, these yearning hours hot, through binoculars I spot a yacht, Mitty-like, spray on deck now my lot. Exploring leagues of fathomless sea through binoculars, I spot a yacht, a man, his woman, hair streaming free.
Bones Beneath Us Hoping lights like low-slung stars appear dappling the harbour, a warm hotel, late in, we faced massed waves, black walls sheer. Hoping lights like low-slung stars appear, we hold our course, shark jokes a veneer. Wreck charts curled, awash, we share this shell hoping lights like low-slung stars appear dappling the harbour, a warm hotel.
Biog: Ian C Smith’s work has been published in Antipodes, BBC Radio 4 Sounds,The Dalhousie Review, Griffith Review, San Pedro River Review , Southword, The Stony Thursday Book, & Two Thirds North. His seventh book is wonder sadness madness joy, Ginninderra (Port Adelaide). He writes in the Gippsland Lakes area of Victoria, and on Flinders Island.
