Not For You. A haiku.

Just save your prayers

No absolution for you

Your sunset is nigh

Hmmm…must be watching too many John Wick movies 😉

Steve

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.

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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!

Mermaid. A poem.

For far too long have I been bereft,
a lonely thing, dragged and left,
taken down to quench my thirst,
to bitter shoals to do their worst.
No sails upon this mast of mine
to catch the winds of better times,
to slice the waves and undertow,
one more soul, one vast ocean.

But things it seems are looking up,
the current here bends to my luck,
it guides me to the surface there,
and to her arms, a mermaid fair.
Perhaps it’s all a distant fancy,
a reverie, a wholesome fantasy.
Just illusions in my head?
Perhaps this drowning man is dead.

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.

Grave. A poem.

I stand before the hole
that wouldst be my grave.
Where sullen earth
and tepid worms do cry
and call to me, my ample soul.

This grave I’ve dug
to fit my fettered frame,
denuded in the wintry night
to lie amongst the frost,
colluding with the fog and fug.

I will lay me down
and rest awhile, until my bones
do merge with dust and dirt
and the finery of such a life
is wasted and unwound.

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 purchase a copy

Kill. A poem.

Why don’t you kill me?
Release me from this misery?
This womb that clings
and grinds me down
to tombstone dust
and empty dreams,
restrains me tight
in chains of languid
and bitter thoughts.
Oh, but for a little death,
a dance with angels
or demons to portend.
Not for me.
With life and pain
I must contend.

If you liked that, then you’ll love the poems in my first book The All or the Nothing! And at just $5.99 for 62 poems, that’s less than 10 cents a poem!
To find out how to get a copy, click here.
Support starving poets everywhere!

Dead Men Deep. A poem.

Hulls of broken ships,
scattered like white noise.
The sea bed, as black
as a charcoal cellar.

It welcomes sailors
to their ends,
bloated corpses sleeping
in hammocks of crusted ribs,
drunk on briny, antique wine.

Coral wreaths
and sawdust mouths;
barnacles, the new tattoo
that marks the passage
from man to martyr.

Here among the starfish
and crustacean shells,
unworried by the weather,
seabed tales in whale song
punctuate their empty dreams.

The Wait. A short tale.

She waited as he wasted away.

She watched and pined. He watched as well; sometimes TV, sometimes her.

She fed him hand-to-mouth. Eventually he refused to eat. As he grew thinner, the drip in his arm pulsed like a marathon runner, sucking exhausted breaths as it neared the finish line.

He smiled painfully. She did, too.

She cried when he slept–never when he was awake. Her tears fell gently on the back of his hand, where they ran off the edge in random segues before fading away with nary a whisper.

She knew when the day arrived. There was no announcement, no symbolic continuous beep on the machine, like on TV. She just knew. So did he.

They held hands.

She waited as he went away.

 

If you would like to read more of my flash fiction, click here.

Cheers

Steve 🙂

A Rabbit Passes. A prose poem.

The rabbit’s body is stiff and heavy in my hand. I wrap it in its funeral trappings, a plastic cloak as light and airy as its existence. It’s family lies in burrows deep below, the farmer’s poison dried within withered veins. I place it within its casket, a waste bin its solemn ferry to where its family’s souls gently sleep.

There was a family of rabbits that lived next door. The guy there has chickens and sheep, so it was only a matter of time before he took steps to bait them. For a while that happy family of rabbits was something for me to look forward to each morning and evening, when they would enter my backyard to feed. 

Now they’re a reminder that not everything lasts forever, a sad metaphor for the briefness of our lives and the need to achieve what we can now, before our own time runs out.

Steve

The Light in Your Eyes. A poem.

I saw the light in your eyes
Burn bright then fade away
It was your last and final call
Before approaching Heaven's Gate

I smelt your very last breath
Felt your body as it slacked
It was holding you in my arms
That I finally faced the facts

You were heavier in weight
And I was heavier in heart
But I carried your limp, cold body
Once together, now apart

Under a new and tiny sapling
I buried you deep anon
And in a rain of falling tears
I wrote for you a song

I remember you on Winter days
On winds your soul has flown
Reminded when I see your tree
From which new life has grown

Just in case you didn't know, all my poetry is intensely personal, it's all part of me and based on my life.

Thank you to everyone who has liked and commented positively. It is much appreciated.

Steve 🙂

Last Breath. A poem.

My very last breath

Suspended and succinct
Drawn fatefully in duress
Through a lifetime of failure
And subdued success

A turn of the corner
Like a turn in my eye
A fitful melancholy
Forever present in mind

My black dog companion
Always here by my side
The pall of loneliness
More expansive than pride

Who is there to remember
All the good that I did
All gone now, replaced
By a requiem of sins

And what now of love?
In truth, all I needed
That unrequited soul
To whom my heart seceded

This very last breath
Perhaps like this will not pass
Let this seed, this thread
Weave a brand new start

Take my very first breath

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