My Son My Sun. A poem.

My love for you is bottomless without end infinite it is sunbeams and moonbeams and cluttered thoughts laughter and pain you are my sun and my moon and all the cliches in between and while your light shines I will forever bask in it yeah I’ve screwed up your life at times that’s what parenting is all about but hopefully I’m not doing it as much you can be a pain in the ass but I know you’re just working things out love is forgiveness good with the bad compromise and all that always rising above like sunbeams and moonbeams and cliches but never ending and always beginning my son my sun you are my world keep the light on and shine bright

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!

Upstart Photographer: Things#5

Another photo. Another poem.

Cheers

Steve 🙂

Lighthouse. A poem.

A hollow betrayal;
you were pushed aside
and swept under the rug
of failing and fatalistic light
(what irony, it seems).

A ship’s memory is short;
they no longer need your eyes.
The ocean, whose detriment
you did long prevent,
has had its revenge after all.

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!

Tonight. A poem.

Am I mad and destitute
on this anxious road to success?
Or am I lost and found again
in artless vanity and regret?

Is this path I walk alone
of the living and the dead?
Or a marathon that leads me on
far from a shameful mess?

Do you hear my silken cries
or feel my sullen tears?
Do you smile all the while
or simply laugh at me?

Am I selfish or justified
to think and feel this way?
Or is it just another cross
I think I bear, today?

Will you pray for me again
as I walk the quivering wire?
Trying not to glance below
into the waiting fire.

No, You will hold me subtly
each and every time I tire.
You will always ease my pain:
right here, right now, in time.

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!

Haiku Friday: Unwanting. A haiku.

Unwanting
This poor man walks in
grace, so humble and contrite
and wanting nothing.

What is a haiku? Glad you asked. Click here to find out more.

Cheers

Steve 🙂

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!

Dirty Dancing. A poem.

Dance on my grave

OnE sTeP, tWo StEp, ThReE sTeP, fOuR

Pat it down and into place

OnE sTeP, tWo StEp, ThReE sTeP, fOuR

Celebrate the death of me

OnE sTeP, tWo StEp, ThReE sTeP, fOuR

Now you’re done, wash the dirt away

You wish you COULD, but you CAN’T.
You’ll always have dirt on your hands.

And feet.

OnE sTeP, tWo StEp, ThReE sTeP, fOuR…

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!

The Real Book. A tale of two formats.

Remember that poetry e-book I released a year ago? Yeah, I thought not. The All or the Nothing is a book I’m very proud of, but it’s only sold a few copies so it’s safe to say my grand dream of being recognised for my poetic talents (real or illusionary) has fizzled somewhat.

Then I realised, as a book reader I still prefer hard copies. Maybe my readers (or at least my Mum) would want an actual book?

Being a redoubtable (yet depressingly down) fellow, I decided I would get a print copy together. So, after labouring hard in Adobe Indesign, I’ve put together a 96-page book version of The All or the Nothing on Lulu, which can be printed on demand.

I’m a bit proud of it. So much so, I’m preparing my second book of poetry for release in hard copy before Christmas.

Want a ‘real’ copy? Get it here. Support independent publishing: Buy this book on Lulu.

Cheers

Steve 🙂

This Morbid Fascination. A poem.

What is this morbid fascination
I have with the prospect of my
own uncertain and certain
demise?

It reeks of gentle desperation,
a perfidious need to know
the outcome of a life lived
in unconscious and conscious
vigilance.

No hangman’s noose for me,
no liquid death or razor’s end,
no toxic pills or silent sleep,
no horrors all too reticent
or bleak.

Or perhaps I am too pleasant.
Perhaps the end will see me
choking on bile and spume
as my heart clenches tight
around a half-crazed mind.

This morbid fascination
will be the end of me.

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.

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

Spring Clean. A poem.

The thinking mind is such a pain.
But wondering isn’t much to gain,
and wandering round in there, you see,
gets one lost in pointless reverie.

I want to arrest those layabout thoughts
loitering on my old street corners,
take them off to gaol where they
can loiter somewhere else, to play.

My plaguing dreams reveal the cost
of all the ones I’ve loved and lost,
that took a turn, are worse for wear,
now clutter and forlorn despair.

And so, a compromise of sorts,
in which all the things I’ve lost and sought,
my memories, all gone to seed,
will fade away with the next spring clean.

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.

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

Drifter. A poem.

When all the
                 lonely
                 drifters
                          are sleeping
                                         in their beds,
                 I will be out there
           drifting,
                   still no closer
                                   to my final goal.

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.

Plague. A poem.

Why do you still plague me, so?
To inhabit me like a parasite,
gouging out my pale insides?
Churning up my hopeless dreams
like milk into aromatic cheese,
to accompany sides and crackers,
all the pieces left of me.

I tried to clear you out,
to tear up those thoughts
of you that lingered in
the shadow of my doubt.

But you are a constant here:
no razor can cut you free,
no serpentine threat can take
you away, as far as I can see.
I suppose that I am stuck with you,
like a whittling scar, or cancer tumour,
to eat me up in my pretence,
to despoil my thoughts
while I am lost in bitterness.

Your brilliance, it seems, forever blinds,
through my mind’s venetians,
you will forever shine.
I’ll long for you and wait for you
and die for you, as I always do.

A constant plague in my infected soul,
a longing and a long-lost goal.

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.

Upstart Photographer: Things #4

A photo. An accompanying poem. ‘Nuff said.

Cheers

Steve 🙂

Wall. A poem.

You blocked the way,
a cantankerous old crone,
bleached, cracked and worn,
bitter-boned and sun-dried.

What use are you when
your gaps in memory
provide brief passage,
your purpose undermined
and inconsequential.

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 Risk. A poem.

The wash of highlights
on your face
illuminates more
than worry in your eyes.

The antecedent
calls you back
to an enigma,
cold-cast in lies,
a veil that gently
mocks and knocks
upon an antiquated door,
whose wood-rotted timbers
hide a mystery
without clues or sleuths
to solve them.

Your obligation
to reveal these truths,
to open Pandora’s
rough-hewn box
and release the thousand
clawing, cloying
secrets within,
could be far less invasive
(you surmise) than

          a haemophiliac wound,
          bleeding endlessly,
          painfully, righteously

Are the scars worth the risk?
Is it just another enigma
dying for you to solve?
Just another way to get your fix?
Or should you leave
well enough alone?

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.

Nothing Less. A poem.

I left myself in such a mess,
recovery mode and nothing less.
Drowned my sorrows in emptiness,
succumbed to my own thoughtlessness.

But now I see the road ahead.
You light my way to more than this.
I guess this all was just a test,
Your way of saying “Just do your best”.

Now, I rise above the rest
to face the world, my sins addressed.
I’ve become, I must confess,
a better man and nothing less.

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.

Sleeptalking. A poem.

Lying here
              Thinking
              Thinking
              Counting
                             Minutes
                             Hours
                             Sheep
A pretence
    rendered
       Black and blue
In ultraviolet

Hate my head
       For it hurts
                 Hurts
                 Hurts
Me so

Breathless again
Foggy-eyed and foggy-headed
          Branded
          Fool
Shake
Rinse
Repeat

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 Winter of Our World. A poem.

Winter wanted one last bite
of the red, red cherry,
and so it returned
with steely vengeance,
to strike with icy blades
that shimmied through my skin
and took root within my veins.

The frost dusting the lawn
was a plague on both our houses,
and a sign of forlorn vendettas
lost to bitter hearts
and aching bones.

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.

Upstart Photographer: Things #3

I like to write poems. I like to take photographs. Sometimes I take photos of things.

Here’s one, with an accompanying poem. I don’t normally write poems about things, but for my photos I can make an exception.

Cheers

Steve 🙂

Rocks. A poem.
Rocks awash
in sea-salt dreams,
caressed in pleasure
until they spume.

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.

Sweet Nothings. A poem.

Head down
Black entrails entwined
Around my throat
Choking the life
And whispering

Sweet nothings

Of mindless contempt
The residue of years
Of churning anger
The spittle of malice
And undisputed loathing
Clawing its way
Up from within
Until it’s without
Plastering the walls
Layering the floors
With enmity

Sweet nothings

And condescension
Are all that’s left
For me

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.

Step. A poem.

One
Foot
In
Front
Of the other

Every day

Step
Forward
Trying
Not
To step back

Every day

I
Move
A
Little
Further
Forward

Every day

I move a little further
To where I need to be

One
Step
Closer
To you

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.

Shadow Tales. A poem.

My aching thoughts and fretful angst
that often lead astray,
that wander in the ceding light,
whose shadows form my way.
The consequences of my time,
misled misgivings here,
they form a crazy, tangled skein,
the symptoms of my fears.
Beneath the coverlet of night
pulled tight to shield me so,
to trick me in the feeble light
whence all the shadows go.
Internal, puerile anger
that only suffocates my joy,
continues here to effervesce,
and shake me like a toy.
And when the crystal shear without
cuts through the satin veil,
I’ll be waiting here again
with my sad, poetic tale.

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.

Upstart Photographer: Things #2

I like to write poems. I like to take photographs. Sometimes I take photos of things.

Here’s one, with an accompanying poem. I don’t normally write poems about things, but for my photos I can make an exception.

Cheers

Steve 🙂

Road. A poem.

Exemplars on the way,
milestones of the incredulous
and the extravagant,
until the unseen border, gone.
Here in stark contrast,
mother’s permanent residents
hold sway and sway in time
to the rhythms of the asphalt,
the heat swathes writing
memoirs of the silence.

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.

Tears. A poem.

Succinct and retrospect,
mercury lines connecting dots,
snaking and entwined,
‘tween valleys and hills,
pooling at the feet:
drowned confetti dreams.

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.

Fumes of You. A poem.

Your scent was different,
lingering in my nostrils,
a whiff of nostalgic free fall
and extra sensory motion.
The fumes of you twisted
around me and consumed
every pore and fibre
of my unwholesome being.
Should I have let that smell
overwhelm me as it did before
when I threw subtle caution
to the heedless wind?
Then you were gone
and the flames and fumes
died, as they always did.
All that was left, the memory
of your trackless bouquet.

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.

Moon Thoughts. A poem.

The moon waxes and wanes,
in afterthoughts of the
bitter-sweet variety.

My wanderings have
brought me closer to
an undistinguished end,
and yet still I cling
to the filaments of
monopolised undertakings.

Moonlight fill my spirit,
build it up in a voodoo
pyre to burn and jest,
as if the last laugh were
worthy of redemption.

Play away, subtle light,
fix your steely gaze upon
this unctuous beggar
and cast a shadow long
unto his craven grave,
where silver shafts do
shape his own betrayal.

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.

Writer Interrupted: Writing Haiku

What is a Haiku?

The Haiku is a poetic form that originated in Japan as early as the 9th or 13th Century, depending on what you read, but wasn’t known by the term Haiku until the 19th century.

Want to know more about Haiku history? Click here.

Traditionally, they focussed on nature and emphasised simplicity.

Each line of the poem has specific syllabic criteria:

1st Line: 5 syllables
2nd Line: 7 syllables
3rd Line: 5 syllables

Want to know how to count syllables? Click here. 

Examples of Japanese Haiku

April’s air stirs in
Willow-leaves…a butterfly
Floats and balances
― Bashō, Japanese Haiku

Dead my old fine hopes
And dry my dreaming but still…
Iris, blue each spring
― Shushiki, Japanese Haiku

Modern Haiku

Modern Haiku can vary dramatically from the original intent in terms of subject matter. Some even depart from the syllabic criteria (which calls into question whether they should be considered Haiku).

For some cool, nature-oriented examples, click here.

And here’s a few Haiku I wrote about writing Haiku:

Writing Haiku. A Haiku trilogy.

1.
In every dew drop,
I see the acorn of thought
that grows into oak.
2.
Language comes alive.
My mind is afire with life,
burned on the white page.
3.
Acorn now grown tall,
the tree outlined in firelight.
Feel these sunset words.

– Stephen Thompson, Modern Haiku

For more of my Haiku, click here.

Cheers

Steve 🙂

The All or the Nothing is my first e-book of poetry.
Click here to buy a copy online.

Make Your Way. A poem.

Indecision rules
in every fool,
the uninspired and undecided.

Confusion reigns
and fear sustains
the paltry and the parodied.

Mark this day,
make your way from
the aimless and objectionable.

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.

Died Inside. A poem.

And as I slowly died inside
within the canny matrices
of my mind,

I came to understand it all
everything I’d ever been
done and seen,

as if every strand
was a flower bud opening
for the first time.

And as the tears flowed
and doused the floor
my sins like wine,

an overturned wash bucket,
overdue for mopping,
I slowly died inside.

And the loathsome cancer
of self-pity, self-hate,
and self-loathing,

took root and multiplied,
a calculus of lethal and
poisonous last rites.

The sum and division
of you and I.
I slowly died inside.

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.

Upstart Photographer: Things #1

I like to write poems. I like to take photographs. Sometimes I take photos of things.

Here’s one, with an accompanying poem. I don’t normally write poems about things, but for my photos I can make an exception.

Cheers

Steve 🙂

Bowl. A poem.
Crusted and crinkled,
your contours and skin
are wrinkles in time,
shaped and subsumed
in ornamental bliss:
a life beyond death.

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.

Nostalgia. A poem.

Nostalgia
On my mind
A keepsake
Turn it over
In my hands
A snow globe
Filled with memory
And the dust
Of fickle years
And absent foes
Now long forgotten
But present still

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.

Haiku Friday: Third Degree. A haiku.

Third Degree
Caustic heart branding
third degree burns on my soul.
Tell me again—why?

Haiku is a Japanese poetic form with a strict 5/7/5 syllable and line structure.

Cheers

Steve 🙂

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.

Heel. A poem.

Why concern yourself
with where you walk?
I am just a reed
beneath your heel
cracking until broken,
outlined in your footprint.

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.

Vagrant Heart. A poem.

And now every time I pass by you,
I remember when you were my muse.
My inspiration, a living rhyme
to hang my aching heart, in time.

          (I could and did, ‘til I was blue,
          write many volumes, just for you.
          But you never read and never knew,
          enigmas all and yet so full.)

Words flowed like the torrential rain,
now they flow right down the drain,
the endless drain out to the sea,
where tender mercies float and dream.
I’ll never know if you ever wondered,
guessed, assumed, or maybe stumbled,
upon the musings of my heart
disguised as metaphor in part.
I guess I was the greatest fool
for thinking you could love me, too.
I guess my words were wasted art,
the rantings of a vagrant heart.

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.

 

Surburbia. A poem.

                                My hurt
                                My tears
                                My pain
Are nothing more
Than your
                                Knowing smile
As you turn
And walk
While the
Rain washes
                               My frozen
                               Suburbia
Clean but
Still grey

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.

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.

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