Two Poems by Ronnie Smith


The vines shorn
of their purpose,
mothers postpartum,
used and abandoned
facing winter untended.

Until Spring’s maquillage
restores their youth,
their season, their ego.
To be pampered,
stars once more.


Short single sheaves
of wild grass cower
and shimmer,
shy in a breezy
early light. But
appearances deceive.

Their fine gauze
is the modesty of
wistful poppies
who wave their
scarlet lashes at
besotted passers by.


Ronnie Smith grew up in the west of Scotland where the land taught him to trust his senses and to write. He subsequently travelled widely and now lives in south west France. Ronnie has published short stories and articles on politics and culture in a number of countries and, in the last few years, has ‘discovered’ a love of poetry.

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