Unknown. A poem.
She does not and will never know me. She will never read between my lines. She will never walk the halls of my history. She will never cry a tear for me. But I have known her. In the briefest … Continue reading Unknown. A poem.
Tag: Life
The Night. A poem.
The night is not my friend. I lie here, encapsulated and encumbered in darkness’ vice-like grip. The night is not my friend. I lie awake, turning and tossing, trying to escape my funereal thoughts. The night is not my friend. … Continue reading The Night. A poem.
Stray Thoughts. A poem.
Stray thoughts, like alley cats, prowling amongst the refuse and detritus of my memories. Sally forth the dogs of war, to clear these backwaters and scare away this pain. Until stray thoughts wander back to sully my streets again. The … Continue reading Stray Thoughts. A poem.
Morning Coffee. A Poem.
Whorls of heat haze fumigate the air, an ocean of dark and broiling depths mirroring a bleak and surly heart. Your lidless eye reflects the scorn, a barely bitter taste that lingers like cyanide clarity on the tongue. Oracle of … Continue reading Morning Coffee. A Poem.
Haiku Friday. ‘Isolated’, a haiku trilogy.
Isolated – a haiku trilogy 1. Veil If only I could take away the coal-black veil encompassing me. 2. Crown My only constant: crown of thorns, heavy on my lonely, empty heart. 3. Walls Do you hear me cry? Perhaps … Continue reading Haiku Friday. ‘Isolated’, a haiku trilogy.
‘The All or the Nothing’ – Steve’s eBook is available now!
via Save the Poet! Try it out! Click on the link above to find where you can download it. If you love poetry, you won’t be sorry! Cheers Steve 🙂 Continue reading ‘The All or the Nothing’ – Steve’s eBook is available now!
Rectified. A poem.
I wish that I could rectify all my copious sins and lies. I wish I could rebuild the trust I stole from you with prurient lust. I wish I could remove the stain upon my family’s blessed name. I wish … Continue reading Rectified. A poem.
Chasm. A poem.
I stared into the chasm and it stared right back at me. My cries echoed off its pithy walls until I nestled silently in its precipitous embrace. The chasm walls engulfed me; the sky above sequestered and aloof. The comforting, … Continue reading Chasm. A poem.
Would. A poem.
Would you shed a tear for me when I’m gone or about to go? Would you wave as I depart, smile awhile, wander alone? Would you care if I passed away from this world, from this fray? Would you be … Continue reading Would. A poem.
Consequence. A poem.
If I had my chance again, would I change the things I did? I am so invested in this pain, and have lost, yet gained so much, it was surely meant to be. And if I had my chance again, … Continue reading Consequence. A poem.
Artifice of Love. A poem.
I wish she would read this artifice of love and know my asinine attempt to swim to her waters ‘festina lente’, my yearning to sweep her off her feet and cushion her with desirous imposition, is meant solely to glorify … Continue reading Artifice of Love. A poem.
Indifference. A poem.
Every indifferent look is broken glass, slicing my already severed heart. Your indifference, (bricks laid by me), is the wall separating our dual Berlins. Your indifference is the pendulum that crushes me whole: nothing left and nothing right. Every indifferent … Continue reading Indifference. A poem.
Swim. A poem.
Dewdrops on my skin as I rise from your embrace. Your satin caress beckons and I return to your verge. Each twist and turn I take moves me closer to apogee, whence all efforts expire. Here within your tidal girth, … Continue reading Swim. A poem.
Wrecked. A poem.
My gallants and topsails, tattered, torn and twisted; shrouding the devastated deck like grasping lichen on a forest floor. My ship creaks and moans, weary and spent from the storm; a mass of broken timbers, of shredded hopes forlorn. The … Continue reading Wrecked. A poem.
Ghostly. A poem.
Am I a ghost to you, incorporeal as mist, drifting on the fulsome breeze, far beyond your view? What would it take to anneal this brume, a somatic conversion to make me real? Your fugue is my grave; Here I … Continue reading Ghostly. A poem.
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