Story: Brent Moya
Rob Smith, a former writer for the Burngreave Messenger has been continuing in his creativitiy since leaving his position in December last year.
At present Rob is working on a number of projects. Having produced more than 20 poems he is now writing ‘The Further Trails’, the sequel to his first novel, ‘Born Under A Bad Sign’.
I spoke with Rob regarding his work and asked why he chooses to write, to which he replied, “Because I can."
“I've written about my life experiences as well as things I've seen and learned. Some of my poems are conveyed with humour while others have a more serious tone depending on their content.”
Rob has been working closely with Pie Crust Website Designs, based here in Sheffield, creating his own website. This will promote not only excerpts from his novel and sequel but many other ongoing titles. More poetry, music, script ideas, topical discussions and blogs.
Primed for launch on April 29th 2007 at http://www.butterwouldntmelt.org.uk, Rob Smith will be frank with the title of his first open discussion: A Reason Not To Smoke Cannabis: Part 1.
In the meantime you can contact Rob by email at robert@burngreave.net <robert@burngreave.net>.
The Word Smith
My great ancestors were captives on slave ships
Great-great-grandfather owned by a Black-Smith
Grandfather trained himself as a shoe-Smith
His first daughter born, how he worshipped
She used to work all day on the night shifts
But her first born son caused a right rift
Abandoned at birth, found a new gift
Now elevates himself as the word Smith.
Down Presser
Down pressers had a plan to keep the whole haul
Without sharing with nobody no love at all
Now running round with their backs to the wall
Little after that they make this world call
Relieve deprivation suffered by all
Afraid of the day when Babylon fall
Now inner city gunshots in the ghetto repeat
Young and the old start admitting defeat
With fear everyday is a life on the street
When summer-time comes and a rise in the heat
So sadly it is, to word things so neat
But many young people will drop at our feet
Down pressers it's now that you must understand
Just what it is that is truly at hand
Raping the earth and stealing the land
Divide and conquer as part of your plan
Ammunition and gun trade in search of more
Creating world suffering in the art of War
No financial costs could even the score
On how many hearts and souls you've tore
That's why every night on our knees some pray
While you oppress others both night and day
Put up the scales and know they don't weigh
Sending this world into such disarray
That very first day you sailed those long ships
International slavery chained bound and whipped
Half of this world into an empire
Both hands on a bible while breathing out fire
Discovery, you claim, now we know you're a liar
Sold out your soul just to gain your desire
Now building spaceships you want to reach higher
With all of that might and all of your power.
A Reversible Poem
Top to Bottom
Don't give up the fight
Don't give up the fight
Emancipate from segregation
Put cultural differences out of sight
Precipitation, participation
To stop the fuss and fight
Enunciate, become articulate
Stand up and do things right
Regenerate and congregate
Together in the light
Emancipate from dissipation
By using all your might
Find Solution for pollution
To save the nation's plight
Eradicate deprivation
Moving day from night
Instigate, initiate
Blending black and white
Emanate, predominate
Don't give up the right.
Remonstrate don't hesitate
The sun is shining bright
Illuminate don't prevaricate,
Just read the things we write.
Bottom Back To Top
