Binge. A poem.

Timed and untimed,
A chaos of raindrops
Upon a sleepy roof
Filling gutters and trailing
Spume in snail trails
That wind their way
Drinking toasts to those
Whose evaporation
From the scene
Left such a hole
In awkward conversation.

The clink of glass
And amber froth
Disappeared in the wake
Like reeling in the catch
To be emptied later
Upon the deck
Before the toilet door.
Memories worth
Fighting for
But such a waste
Of good beer.

The last call
Of siren nights
A gentle gutter bed
For swift repose
And nights better off
Than recalled
Until the next
Your head laid upon
The tiers and tiles
Perhaps better off dead.

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 Near-Empty Bottle. A poem.

I glanced drunkenly into the near-empty bottle.
In the viscous alcohol I saw 
my face,
rippled and twisted 
like a garish Mr. Hyde.

I laughed at the carnival mirror,
so accurately reflecting 
every facet
of my, oh, so petulant features.
Every flaw and misconception
brought to life in 
errant ripples
at the bottom of a pit,
too deep to reach.

I cast the bottle aside and hailed for another,
in the hopes that I
might see 
far, far better.

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.

Broken Bottle. A Haiku Trilogy


Your vision blurred
Atonement dressed in black
Alcohol prevails


The empty bottle
Your eye peers at the bottom
All the lonely dregs


Drunken slumbering
Nothing but spirit-soaked 
More dreams of limbo


Ah, haiku. My favourite 5/7/5 syllable verse form. Back to writing in threes, which seems to flow naturally for me.

There was a time when I used to drink a lot. I don’t drink anymore. And I’m better for it.

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