E. R. Smith 2018

A movement is spreading that’s allowing teachers a platform to discuss the oldest profession, teaching. Teachers have said nothing, or have been ignored, as torrents of disrespect have ravaged their calling for decades.  Recent remarks have added a new consideration for an already hefty checklist of things to do.  Bearing arms.  Teachers who frequently stretch pay checks to support the schools that house their students have had enough.  Finally, thank you, because now I’m sure it’s not just me and my downtrodden circle.  Here’s my addition to the move, to ask our world what educators regardless of demographic would like to be equipped, supplied, and outfitted with.


Smaller Class Size

Funding for STEM

Funding for Class Supplies

Funding for Field Trips

Funding for After school Programs

Funding regardless of demographic

Respect for our profession

Pass it ON…


When Eyes Wander Around My Corners

E. R. Smith 2018

Wonder about those eyes curling around me,

as I lick my treat,

Orbs sailing all about me, weighing hide,

scaling seat,

Want to whisper of my afternoon, loving,

splayed laid rough

Pressure buildup, squeezed, long way past


Upraised eyebrows assess my calves, amused wonder,

Oh if only I were interested to share their world of  plunder?

Sigh, eyes roll, my soul, should I testify?!

Rally against ignorance, fatal misjudgements, apprize?

Lay bare all facts, artifacts, demonstrate false surmise

But to lift these lids, No!

Ignorance deserves no prize.



Fresh Squeezed

E.R. Smith, 2018

Assaulted by youngsters in backpacks.

Backing in to unaccomodating spaces

Parents, glaring staring, shut your yap

Say nothing to my young, I’ll kill your village,

Don’t dare groom mine, they’re not fresh!

Polite is un-relevant, we’re here to pillage

Sharpened elbows at my sides, as you swipe

Focused squeezing, communicating with dark net

Grey heads shake at brute, who continues to type

Transit,  precarious microcosm of disdain

Populace on edge, shoving humanity

Bus and Train rumbles as brains drain



mad graffiti



E. R. Smith, 2018

Throwed up the sour crux of the matter

Call me vandal, huh? Where’s your plan for me?

Infrastructure F–Ked up since my pop’s feet pattered

Demographics show me last on the list….maybe, we’ll see..


This battered wall, reminds of  vivid existence

Slapped woke, retaliating for unprovoked focused pain

This passive palette, path of least resistance

Styling a marching movement, more than for ihe slain


World  peep gifts possible in all!  Nourish satiate the multitudes

Burning bombs on the wall bleed, crimes of exclusion

Artists fists lash out; violent pigments glow, unchecked attitudes

Opportunities for the red blood born,  won’t suffer occlusion





Tea and Crackers Interrogation Method

E. R. Smith 2018

Tea and crackers my mother’s secret weapon to weaken our defenses.  We sipped Lipton,  and let loose a mouthful, fears, worried tears, confessions.  We sat in Big Chair in mom’s room.  Big Chair was mom’s ally; worn soft perfection.  Sit and spill.  As soon as she came in from school; mom called, ‘Lizzy you want tea?’  Mom knew something, but what?  She’d been careful to park her backpack in her bedroom chair, “as a habit so I don’t forget anything for school” , she told mom.  Oh…she wondered if her mom would check her backpack?  No, maybe not.  Hope Ms. Bee wasn’t over gossiping and confusing everyone’s business with her own.

Mom brought the tea and crackers straight into her room.  She didn’t ask if I wanted to follow her.  Everything is fine, follow, breathe, sit in Big.  “Did you hear that girl with the blond streaks is pregnant?  ‘Yep, Ms. Bee. ‘ “No, Ma I  didn’t know.”  ‘Wasn’t she your friend?’  “In elementary ma, that was years ago.”  Mom moves on.  How’d you do in school today?  I froze a bit.  “It was good.”  Did mom get a call from school?  The phone rings.  Joey picks it up, “Mom it’s for you.”  I sip tea, and press lips closed to swallow.  Snuggling in Big…  Practice keeping your own counsel, scolds my teen brain.  I can hear silly giggles; mom’s talking to Titi June.  Well, it won’t be long now. More probing after chats done.  I nibble a cracker and decide to fess up…

I tell you mom and her tea…nothing gets past them.


On the Birth of This Day

E.R. Smith 2018

Crack the Dawn shows me a mosaic

Almost a tapestry, the edges fray with light dust

A symphony of a life lived, striving strong, algebraic

Dense thick stubborn reaching fibers

Indomitable pattern; organic thread follows ancients

Linking from past weaving designers

Etching an art for present time; keeping relevant

Intricate paths sewn; with no apology

Dawn’ brings a bright appreciating testament


The Shape of a Woman

E. R. Smith 2018

Molded round, impervious; taking on weights and tolls

Angled sharp, quick, multifaceted

Stong straight throughout storms; raising barricades

Patented abilities,  unfragmented

Turns hexagon to rhombus, clearest diamond

Inspiring humanity with the feminine

Crafting both art and war; lovely siren