Lingered. A poem.

You
Lingered
Just
Long
Enough
To
Make
Me
Think
You
Were
The
One
Then
You
Were
Gone
And
Your
Absence
Lingered
On

poetry books - stevestillstanding

For more of my poetry, check out Poetry for the Sad, Lonely and Hopelessly Endangered and The All or the Nothing, available in print or e-book formats.

Click here to find out how to get your copy.

Advertisements

Scene, Set and Match. A poem.

Scene: a small, Italian restaurant.

Two newly-matched.
Time set aside.
Something right
and something wrong.
Laughter and humility.
Understanding and empathy.
Certainty and unreality.
Scene, set and match.

Let’s do this all again,
shall we?

poetry books - stevestillstanding

For more of my poetry, check out Poetry for the Sad, Lonely and Hopelessly Endangered and The All or the Nothing, available in print or e-book formats.

Click here to find out how to get your copy.

Guessed. A poem.

My guest, I guessed I knew you;
I was wrong, as I often am,
But fail to admit to.

My guest, you came and went away,
And left me wanting more,
As I have and will, for days.

My guest, I tasted the soul of you,
Guessed at the flavour, and,
Surprised, forgot the golden rule:

To love is, eventually, to lose,
No matter the guest
You guessed you’d choose.

poetry books - stevestillstanding

For more of my poetry, check out Poetry for the Sad, Lonely and Hopelessly Endangered and The All or the Nothing, available in print or e-book formats.

Click here to find out how to get your copy.

The Blind Sailor. A poem.

From one moment to the next,
I am a transient in time;
seeking eternal mystery,
enigmatic and sublime.
Mired and overblown is me,
a windward sailor seeks
beyond Creusa and Medea,
his fabled Golden Fleece.

So forgive me if I hurt you,
for I know not what I do.
Forgive the misbegotten sailor,
who turns and bids “adieu”.
A blind man set a wandering
without sight to truly see,
the one I’ve searched
for constantly,
right there in front of me.

poetry books - stevestillstanding

For more of my poetry, check out Poetry for the Sad, Lonely and Hopelessly Endangered and The All or the Nothing, available in print or e-book formats.

Click here to find out how to get your copy.

First Meet. A poem.

Audacious, the old me would have said,
To fly so straight and true,
Like an arrow knocked and loosed
To sail into the air above the heads
Of warring knights and daring do,
To find it’s mark in the heart of hearts,
The tree of chance that lies in you.

No mysticism here, without/within,
To charge a sense of fertile whim,
No voodoo dance upon a grave,
No flight of fancy, or too close a shave.

Just an unsure step in the midst of things,
A minefield of broken hearts and cherubic thoughts,
Of misdemeanours, tales of woe
All heaped and gorged upon, just so.
An all-you-can-eat bonanza
Of insecurity and misanthropes.

How are you, it’s nice to meet. Would you like a coffee,
Maybe something to eat?

poetry books - stevestillstanding

For more of my poetry, check out Poetry for the Sad, Lonely and Hopelessly Endangered and The All or the Nothing, available in print or e-book formats.

Click here to find out how to get your copy.

Enfilade. A poem.

The enfilade is over
And bodies lie strewn
Across the battlefield
Like broken bottles
Leaking last regrets

You have cut me down
Your machine gun wit
And explosive rejoinders
Creating a no man’s land
Where I lie fractured.

poetry books - stevestillstanding

For more of my poetry, check out Poetry for the Sad, Lonely and Hopelessly Endangered and The All or the Nothing, available in print or e-book formats.

Click here to find out how to get your copy.

The Search. A poem.

I have yet to find
The erstwhile substance,
The peace of mind,
Free from nomenclature
And chilled regrets.

The ice upon my lake,
Covered in spider filigree
And waiting to consume
Me with every overly
Anxious step.

My navigation clears,
The further I go,
But slow-witted overtures
And death-defy requests fall
On ears long since deaf.

The search goes on,
The snow ever deepens.
Each footstep harder
In this trackless realm of
possibilities and deep unrest.

But still I seek,
Still I yearn alone,
And eventually I will find
The one true love that will
forever free my head.

poetry books - stevestillstanding

For more of my poetry, check out Poetry for the Sad, Lonely and Hopelessly Endangered and The All or the Nothing, available in print or e-book formats.

Click here to find out how to get your copy.

Overkill. A poem.

A stream of consciousness,
As deeply philosophical
And wittingly succinct
As Plato would suggest—
Taut and streamlined,
Delivered with equal measures
Of eloquence and cynicism,
Of fecund elucidation
And resonant aspiration.

Not every dinner conversation
Needs such enigmatic,
energetic discourse.
Perhaps the weather will suffice?

poetry books - stevestillstanding

For more of my poetry, check out Poetry for the Sad, Lonely and Hopelessly Endangered and The All or the Nothing, available in print or e-book formats.

Click here to find out how to get your copy.

A Duel. A poem.

We long for a less-than-guarded
conversation, as conventional
as that may seem in times
as conventional and guarded
as these.

A dual of wits and natures whereby intent is disguised and
discursively dismissed
as quickly and as slowly
as it isn’t.

The epitome of vengeance in every
word and phrase: a calculated
duel, a parry and a flourish
with each riposte
and dare.

We long for a less-than-guarded
conversation; of this I am
myopically aware.

poetry books - stevestillstanding

For more of my poetry, check out Poetry for the Sad, Lonely and Hopelessly Endangered and The All or the Nothing, available in print or e-book formats.

Click here to find out how to get your copy.

Steam. A poem.

Air currents
Blowing the humidity
Beyond mere degrees
Fan blades
Circulating hungry thoughts
Along with captive desire
Sweat and sin
Recuperating
In the steamy night
To ply the gulf stream
One more time

poetry books - stevestillstanding

For more of my poetry, check out Poetry for the Sad, Lonely and Hopelessly Endangered and The All or the Nothing, available in print or e-book formats.

Click here to find out how to get your copy.

Whimsy. A poem.

Sometimes, I get lost in your whimsy
and my elation at the thought of you
leaves every lowbrow, thoughtless convolution,
standing at the wayside, thumbing for a ride.
I choose to leave them all behind,
because I’ve found a better travelling partner.

Let’s lose ourselves in whimsy,

together.

The All or the Nothing

For more of my poetry, check out The All or the Nothing, my first book, available at most online book sellers in print or e-book formats.
Click here to find out how to get your copy.

Want to support Steve with a donation? Click on the donate link at the bottom of this page. Thanks!

Stealthy. A poem.

You sneak into my world

past locks, alarms, sigils, wards 

down corridors of fatalistic compromise

through rooms of idealistic circumspection

and find me waiting earnestly

wanting, more or less

what you want

no need to be so stealthy 

The All or the Nothing

For more of my poetry, check out The All or the Nothing, my first book, available at most online book sellers in print or e-book formats.

Click here to find out how to get your copy.

Want to support Steve with a donation? Click on the donate link at the bottom of this page. Thanks!

Shiver. A poem.

This shiver, a sliver
of ions up my spine,
a delectable point
of contention on my mind
shaping continuities
of ecstasy, baking
hormones in my pituitary,
activated by your touch
in mine.

The All or the Nothing

For more of my poetry, check out The All or the Nothing, my first book, available at most online book sellers in print or e-book formats.

Click here to find out how to get your copy.

Want to support Steve with a donation? Click on the donate link at the bottom of this page. Thanks!

Your Kiss. A poem.

Your kiss
takes me to places
I’ve been before
and long to revisit.

When the voyage is over
I’m longing
for that travel bug
to capture and
enrapture me again.

The All or the Nothing

For more of my poetry, check out The All or the Nothing, my first book, available at most online book sellers in print or e-book formats.

Click here to find out how to get your copy.

Want to support Steve with a donation? Click on the donate link at the bottom of this page. Thanks!

Twosome. A poem.

You creep up on me
An inveterate stalker
A ghostly presence
A firefly somnambulist
(Shadowing its prey)

You wrap me up
(A Christmas treat)
In sunflower petals
An itinerant limpet
Squeezing me senseless

You take me down
And bleed me until dry
Subcutaneous showers
(That eventually leave me)
Drained and serendipitous

Now we entwined
Seek a sunlight sojourn
(In darkness we are)
A tattooed compromise
Until morning arrives

I write a lot of poems, some from my head, some from my heart. Many don’t appear on this website. For more of my poetry, check out The All or the Nothing, my first e-book, available at most online book sellers.

Click here to find out how to get your copy.

The Cycle. A poem.

Strangers, friends, lovers,
then strangers again.
Lovers and strangers,
but no longer friends.

It seems it’s a cycle
we’re doomed to repeat.
A cycle of madness,
one we just can’t escape.
No matter how we try
to break the cycle each time,
we always end up
back at the start of the line:

strangers, friends, lovers,
then strangers again.
Lovers and strangers,
but no longer friends.

I write a lot of poems, some from my head, some from my heart. Many don’t appear on this website. For more of my poetry, check out The All or the Nothing, my first e-book, available at most online book sellers.

Click here to find out how to get your copy.

You and Me. A poem.

This touch fuelling
DESIRE
wanton and wastrel
ECSTASY
diamond moments of
PLEASURE
placating needs in
FIRE
that scorches earth
THIRST
no longer barren
CARNAL
swollen contempt
SATED
eventually
and now just
YOU and ME

I write a lot of poetry, some of which comes from my head, some from my heart, and some from my a$&@. Many don’t appear on this website. For more poems, check out The All or the Nothing, my first e-book of poetry, available at most online book sellers.
Click here to find out how to purchase a copy to treasure forever, or at least until some other e-book takes your fancy 😉

The Year of Living Dangerously.

Is love hard to find?

In today’s fast moving and super-connected society, it can be. And for those of us who are shy, awkward, socially inhibited, or just plain old, it can be dang near impossible (yeah, old people use ‘dang’. What’s that, they don’t? Oh, shut up).

That’s where dating apps come in. No longer much-maligned and embarrassing to admit, they’re an invaluable tool for meeting new people.

My Tinder-esque experiences over the last year varied from the wonderful (a woman who appreciates my sense of humour) to the indescribable (foil hat-wearing oddjobs). I can certainly say the crazy gamut of wild and wanton women made my life interesting.

But the time came to put childish things away. I retired my dating app a few months back (only writing about it now? Sorry, had a few things going on).

I’m not saying I’ve found a perfect love (we’re both at the “like ya a lot” stage); we’re still testing the hot waters with each other, occasionally getting burnt, but not bad enough to run for cover. And that’s as good as anything in this crazy old world. Especially for this crazy old guy.

Now, I have to take my woman (oooh, she hates me calling her that…) shoe shopping. And I’m liking it a lot.

Cheers

Steve 🙂

Paper Hearts. A poem.

My heart was torn,
tiny pieces shredded
like origami shapes
fluttering on the wind.

Just like every
paper person
in my overcrowded mind,
an overcrowded sea
of paper people,
with shredded paper hearts,
like origami shapes
fluttering on the wind.

The All or the Nothing is my first e-book of poetry, available at most online book sellers. To find out how to buy a copy,
click here.

The Not-So-Burning Bush. A short tale.

I haven’t written a flash fiction for a while. Here’s my poor attempt at romantic fiction.

Cheers

Steve 😊

I was ensconced in the bush, its leaves and branches irritating and scratching my face. Completely hidden, I craned my neck to hear what was said, while trying to maintain some sort of focus on Jenny. I could see her back through the foliage.

“…and I just couldn’t believe what she was telling me, y’know? Like, the guy she’s been going out with has been cheating on her for weeks, and she knows it, and she’s still seeing him. Is that pathetic, or what?” The other girl nodded and they both laughed. A few more words and her friend left for a lecture across campus. Jenny sat on the bench near the tree I was hiding in, started checking her iPhone.

At that moment, a sparrow landed next to me on a branch near my head. It was so unexpected that I yelped involuntarily, spun, fell through the bush and collapsed on my back on the pavement next to the bench. My head hit the concrete with a crunch, and I’m sure I saw stars. Yes, just like in cartoons.

Jenny swore, startled by the sudden miracle of a man from a not-so-burning bush. She stood over me, looking concerned (I assume for my potential medical condition, and not for any perceived mental condition). “Jacob? Oh, my God, are you all right?”

I was swearing. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” I rubbed the back of my skull, tried to get up, decided I felt better lying there. “I take that back. No, I’m not.”

Jenny kneeled next to me, unsure of what to do. Students walked past, amused, bemused, uncaring, or a combination of all of the above.

Jenny raised an eyebrow. “What were you doing in that bush?”

“I think I might have a concussion…” Avoidance is the better part of valour, so someone once said. I think it was me, just now.

Jenny frowned as it dawned on her. “Were you stalking me?”

“No, I was just…resting in the bush. For a moment. Getting my bearings. Bird watching. I love trees.” Lying on my back, rubbing my painful head, coming up with terrible excuses. I was the cover model for lame. “Yes, I was stalking.”

She crossed her arms, tilted her head in that delightful way she did when she was being judgemental. “Oh, my God, that is so creepy. And I used to think you were cute.”

“You thought I was cute? I had no idea.”

“Obviously, or you wouldn’t be hanging out in bushes, spying on me.”

“Would you like to get a coffee, or something?” In hindsight, probably not the best time to ask, but I was hurt, desperate and concussed, covered in leaves, scratches and embarrassment. Probably could try for the sympathy vote. Or an insanity plea.

Jenny laughed. She laughed so much she had to wipe away tears. After about a minute of further humiliation, she smiled. “I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but okay.”

“Really? You just caught me stalking you like some crazy guy.”

“Oh God, you really are an idiot, aren’t you? I said yes, already. Shut up, get up, and let’s get that coffee, before I change my mind.”

Jenny helped me to my feet. I stumbled a bit, grinning all the while.

“Am I going to regret this?” she said.

“Maybe,” I said. “Maybe not.”

We both smiled.

Half-light. A poem.

Sweat and toil and creaking
springs, grasping fingers and the scent of hallowed
limbs. Perfect and imperfect rhythms in
motion, bestial howls and fire and tender
susurration, collated in the
half-light of a muted TV.

From this vantage point we survey the hedonic
battlefield, where dust and smoke dissipates and we
victors rejoice with liquid tongues and golden
perspicacity. The half-light lingers;
we prepare to charge into the fray again.

The All or the Nothing is my first e-book of poetry. To find out how to buy a copy,
click here.

Backseat. A poem.

Random musings and the
explicit constancy of touch,
a quickening cadence
strafing the scene like
machine gun fire.

This beckoning equivalent,
captured in steamy windows
and whispered expectations.
Here on this unsubtle backseat,
fertile new world exploration
begins and ends.

The All or the Nothing is my first e-book of poetry. To find out how to buy a copy,
click here.

Tinder Time. A poem.

Flick left, swipe right.
A pallid, Saturday night
police line up of unambiguity,
measured by nervous
fingertip and amygdala.
A feature-filled array
of fatuous smiles
and narcissistic natures,
whereby motherly and mad
skip hand-in-hand with the
otherworldly and overwrought.
Consider this winsome
wheel of fortune,
spinning around and around
but never coming back to the one
I truly want
and can’t live without.

The All or the Nothing is my first e-book of poetry. To find out how to buy a copy,
click here.

Waiting, wanting, waning.

I’m waiting at the Legal Aid office to get some advice about my upcoming property settlement. Needless to say it’s a dull experience, punctuated by the typing on my iPhone, the shuffle of papers, the muffled choke of a straining air conditioner and the murmurs of hushed and sullen conversations.

It’s not as depressing as it sounds (alright, it is as depressing as it sounds, but I’m somewhat biased since I suffer from long-term depression). My property settlement has been dragging on for several years now, and needs to be finalised soon, otherwise the process could start getting messy. Hah! As if it wasn’t messy already.

On a brighter note, I’m house sitting for the next few days, looking after a friend’s place while they’re on holiday. It’s nice to get out of my familiar womb every once in a while, even if it’s only to remind myself I’m not a monk. Actually, I may as well be one, since I’ve given up on online dating (meant to blog about that; reminder: blog about giving up online dating) until I’m in a better frame of mind. Based on previous experience, that may be never. But hopefully, sooner. Is ‘sooner’ part of the almost infinite measure of ‘never’? Is it a measurement at all? My brain hurts.

As I’m living in town the next few days I think I might do some busking. Busking, I hear you say? Yes, busking. I’m a poor, mature age student—emphasis on the poor. I’m also a musician, and this is the most convenient opportunity to play (read: embarrass myself) in public and maybe make a few bucks while I’m at it. Or not. Maybe I’ll make enough to cover my on-street parking fees? I guess it’ll depend on how much people enjoy my caterwauling.

Take care, all. I’ll tell you how it all works out.

Cheers

Steve 🙂

Hello. A poem.

Linked by thoughts
known and unknown;
blinkered and guileless,
liberated, yet uncertain.

Your hand brushed mine
and every inhibition
was washed away by a rain
of dream-soaked inebriation:

You had me at “hello”.

Steve is a sad and angst-filled poet, who needs your help to continue being one.

His first book of poetry, The All or the Nothing, is available now as an e-book from most online distributors – click here.

Guide to the Unrequited Love Affair

Unrequited Love. That thing you have when you don’t have a thing—Clayton’s love (okay, only oldies may get that joke). Here’s a short guide on how to do it:

  • Fall in love with a person who is far too good for you, or is unobtainable. This could be a ‘love at first sight’ thing, or it could be a love that develops over time. Like a bizarre rash or a mild fungal infection.
  • Realise they are far too good for you, so avoid them whenever you can. Make sure you beat yourself up about not being good enough for them.
  • Learn to be miserable most of the time. If you’re already depressed this will simply reinforce how badly you feel about yourself.
  • Try and organise your time so you can run into them by chance. This will fail miserably, of course, because you have no idea what their schedule is as you were previously avoiding them and thus don’t know them that well.
  • When you do run in to them, make sure your conversation precludes any indication that you like them. Once they leave, beat yourself up about how stupid you are. Be miserable.
  • Realise you don’t know really know the person you’ve fallen for and that your conception of them is an idealised fantasy. Beat yourself up some more about how stupid you are.
  • See your unrequited love in public with another person, assume they are together and beat yourself up about it. Find out later this is not the case. Beat yourself up about how stupid you are.
  • Write poetry to reflect your passion and your sad and sorry state of mind. Realise your unrequited love hates poetry. Ensure that your unrequited love never sees your poetry.
  • Spend sleepless nights agonising over why you love this person and how you’re not good enough for them. Be miserable.
  • Find out the person you love is now in love with someone else and write more poetry to address how badly you screwed up. Get used to being miserable. (Oh, you already are. No worries.)

Note: No stalking! It’s weird enough that you’re in unrequited love with a person you don’t know that well, but don’t push it over the line into creepy/illegal territory. 

Come on people! Now you know how to fall in unrequited love, get out there and get to it! A whole new world of infinite yearning and morbid sadness is waiting for you!

Of course, you could try another tack, which is asking said person out and seeing if they say ‘yes’. But that would be too simple for your overly-complicated and insecure mind, wouldn’t it?

Cheers

Steve 😉

Beached. A poem.

Here, amongst a billion tiny souls
crunching below my feet,
sticking between my toes,
a first kiss of many.

Furtive, restless, heated,
fingers and palms hitchhiking
over a bountiful landscape.
A tsunami flowing through the fields,
disrupting your trains of thought
and once rational mind.

As the sun sinks lower and evening falls;
like time, we shall come to pass on these dunes.
Here, amongst a billion tiny souls
that crunch between our feet
and the small of your back.

Would you like to read more poetry and prevent Steve from starving at the same time?

Steve’s first book of poetry, The All or the Nothing, is available now as an e-book from most online distributors. For more information,
click here.

Peak. A poem.

You conquered me
like a mountain (or a molehill).
Climbed me and then left me here,
another spire to aspire to.

Was I just a rocky crag used as
a monument to your success?
What was my reward, just a
wanton moment, better to forget?

Here I stand, wind blown
and forever circumspect,
a peak waiting on another expedition.
Hopefully, one that’ll show me more respect.

My first book of poetry, The All or the Nothing, is available now as an e-book from most online distributors. To find out more, click here.

Chat(less). A poem.

Fractious conversations;
half-hearted, lip synced.

Frantic fingers tracing familiar paths,
back and forth across time
and space.

How much longer until each
gives in, or
gives up?

Until the melodrama
unfolds, like poorly crafted origami
and becomes
a crumpled paper crane.

Aimless fingers tap dance,
until the music ends.
You need to be somewhere
else,
other than your own space
and time.

Stop typing!
Feel the breeze on your face.

The world awaits.

Online Dating Sellout

Okay, okay. I admit it. I sold out. I downloaded Tinder.

If you have read my previous online dating posts (here, here, here, here and here), you’ll know that I was vehemently opposed to Tinder because of the considerably biased rep the poor app, and its users, have (note how I am now sounding more sympathetic). I didn’t want to be seen as someone just looking to ‘hook up’, and being a Christian, it was doubly inappropriate.

Well, I have now tried the Tinder experience and I can say that my opinion is pleasantly changed (read: eat humble pie). I have been on a few online dating websites and they have been somewhat…disappointing. Women with photos that look nothing like them, crazy stalkers and scammers haunt my waking hours (okay, that’s a bit overly dramatic, but I’m a writer. Cut me some slack).

Within hours of being on Tinder (swipe left, swipe right – I feel like I’m in The Karate Kid and Mr Miyagi is abstractly teaching me some new defensive move), I had a few (admittedly vague) conversations.

Within a few days I had a date (yes, remarkable, given my jaded dating history). It was nice: a few drinks, dinner and a fun night. No, she wasn’t Christian, but we had a good time anyway. I have now had a few more decent conversations with other women and will try a few more dates. No, I’m not playing the field. I’m very upfront with my date that if we don’t think we are viable long-term prospects then we move on. Okay, maybe I do sound a little shallow (what does the guilty-looking emoji look like…).

Turns out Tinder is not so bad, after all.

Cheers

Steve 😊

Superhot. A poem.

My iPhone
is an older model…by a lot.

The outside’s looking dated and she’s slower than she was.
I’m thinking of trading up, because

the new model
is superhot.

Was a time when I couldn’t take my hands off her,
when my fingers traced her delicate contours.
She was at my beck and call.

Some kind of mystical allure, of that you can be sure.

But lately she seems a little…old hat.
Dressed her up in fine new clothes
and that seemed to work a bit,
but the magic, my friend, is long, long gone.
Now, this is all I’m left with.

So, I’m thinking of trading up

to a new model
that’s superhot.

One I can show off to all my friends,
because I like the way I look to them
and showing how

deep

I’m not.

Turbulence. A poem.

They're across a crowded room
And the narcissist within
Is screaming "look at me, look at me"
But the introvert without
It whispers "look away, look away"
Trying to smile is a struggle
As complex and as simple as a Gordian knot
And while the cannibal butterflies
Consume your insides
And the flush creeping up
Makes you look like a fire hydrant
And you're thinking hard
How not to screw it up
They've started talking with another
And all you have left is self reproach
And one big "Doh!"
Better luck next time

For Sale. A poem.

For sale
Older model
Chassis in fine shape, no rust
Engine in good condition
Fiery but reliable
May need a lick of paint
And new tires
Great long term investment
Won’t let you down
Can be driven hard
Or from A to B
Whatever your fancy
Some wisdom and insight required
Best or nearest offer


Going cheap
Reduced to clear

Powered by WordPress.com.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: