Steam. A poem.

Air currents
Blowing the humidity
Beyond mere degrees
Fan blades
Circulating hungry thoughts
Along with captive desire
Sweat and sin
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,


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.

You and Me. A poem.

This touch fuelling
wanton and wastrel
diamond moments of
placating needs in
that scorches earth
no longer barren
swollen contempt
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 😉

Keepsake. A poem.

I hear you,
I see you;
your mirror face
tells no lies
but hides the truth,
like a waxing moon
hiding the sun
from the subtle stars.

I hear you,
I see you,
I hold you;
you are wine
within my mouth,
light within my vision,
tincture at my touch.
My keepsake.

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.

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.

The End of the Affair. A poem.

At the end of the affair,
when all is lost, was won,
when the final note is written
when all has come undone.
The longing and the passion
converted now to envy,
the embers now black charcoal
of fires that once burned brightly.
The guilt remains, it always seems,
entwined with all the lies,
an empty feeling of redemption,
of honour, long defiled.
When familiar scents turn stale
and insomnia becomes your partner,
how dim the lights do seem
how the shadows seem much darker.
Life returns to humdrum,
an absence of spontaneity
at the end of the affair
no love, just shame and frailty.

The All or the Nothing is my first book of poetry, and if you like what you’ve been reading then you’ll love it! To find out how to get a copy, click here.
Support starving poets everywhere!

Entwined. A poem.

Entwined, we two;
encapsulated in a mad
statement, read between lines
and screamed between pages.

A subtle madness,
shortness of breath,
long, laboured movement
and languid, liquid refrain.
Teetering on the brink
of apogee, into a light
that breaks this shared darkness
and brings ecstasy.

This pleasure and pain
could last forever and a day,
if we so choose.
But the yearning world
entices us beyond this
twined embrace.

Our coda demands
it meet a fitting end.

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.

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.

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


I’m not.

Well Met. A Poem.

A blast from the past
We knew each other better then
When our saliva mingled and so did our sweat
Now it’s small talk, not quite the same
About families, jobs and Game of Thrones
Never mentioning once
How we were like vines, all intertwined
Animals unleashed, despoiling motel rooms, back seats and parks
Pretending to others that we just met
Lying to better halves about where we went
Today it’s small talk, knowing smiles
And awkward farewells
Well met, lessons learned

A poem about misguided affairs of the heart.

Swept up and swept away, never thinking about the real price you pay.

Haiku Triplet

Ego Trap

Ego overtook
Speed trap coming up on right
Slowing down, humbly


Faith, hope, love, always
Far beyond the veil and pale
My belief in you


Gripping the gun tight
Trigger finger, so itchy
Targets never know


Haiku, haiku, haiku!

I loves it, yes I does, precious! 5/7/5 syllables, precious. Goods enough to eats, it is…

Magic. A poem.

As if by magic
One world ended and another began
Furtive baby steps into the new dawn
I raised my voice, emboldened, and sang
As if by magic
Suddenly you appeared, I was invested
I was lost in you so deep that before I knew it
My heart was bursting free from my chest
As if by magic
I reached out, brought you close, let you in
Finally moving on from tears and bitterness
All the endless waiting worth it in the end
As if by magic
The better person I had long resolved to be
The impossible you became my everything
And love had finally found its way to me   


Yeah, I’m a bit of a sap when it comes to love.

Still looking. Still waiting. Still imagining.

I’ve got a good feeling.


Date Night. A short tale.

The mirror image was unflattering.

She had been trying on dresses for the last hour. They always looked better on the rack and in the fitting rooms before she bought them. She knew there was something about the mirrors in stores. Like the ones at carnivals, but warping everything to look better (maybe she should get one installed…).

It looked like jeans and a blouse were a better option. Three changes later and she was satisfied. Black skinny jeans (almost a miracle needed to get them on; not quite the parting of the Red Sea, but almost) and a billowy white shirt, untucked (why did her ass and thighs look so big? Where was that carnival mirror…) over a black tank top (she was sure it was bigger, before. Had her boobs grown? Maybe the top shrunk in the wash. That’s okay, it emphasised her cleavage more, now. She would just leave a few extra buttons open to show ’em off. Face palm: that was so slutty.)

All this crap for a blind date. And what if he looked worse than she did? What if he was some loser, no job, aimless? She shook her head. Her best friend wouldn’t match her like that. All her fears and insecurities were rising to the surface. Best push them down, keep them buried, like they usually were. “Yeah, real healthy,” she said to the empty room (hmm. It was pretty empty. Maybe she needed to get a cat? Hold on a minute – that way lay long term spinster-dom and more cats…)

Makeup applied, not overdone, but not sparingly (less whorish, more Watergate cover up. Big sigh). Her phone alarm beeped. Time to face the music, she thought. She pouted to the mirror, mouthing silently “it’s so nice to meet you”. Tilted her head. Silent pretend laugh.

She rolled her eyes and headed for the door. One last glance back. Maybe she would get a cat…


What is this flash fiction stuff? I only started it recently (and maybe my short tales are a bit too long to be called flash fiction. I don’t know). This one is a bit clichĂ©d, but that’s okay – nobody’s perfect.

Not even with the benefit of carnival mirrors.  


The Wellspring

I’ve been writing a lot of poetry. I used to write poems when I was a teenager (sensitive, new aged, guy that I was), but then nothing for twenty years or so.

So what made me return to it? One morning I woke up about 4:00am (as I sometimes do) and decided to write a poem…about waking up. And it worked out. So I posted it. People seemed to like it. Buoyed by my new found confidence, I decided to write some more. After a week I thought to myself, this can’t possibly keep going, at some point the wellspring will run dry.

But it didn’t. So, I’ve been writing poetry ever since. And loving every minute of it.

Following is a linked list of every poem I’ve composed on my blog, so far. Hope you like them.

Here’s to the wellspring never running dry.

True Love. A poem.

Does true love sleep
And what wanton dreams
Do dwell 
Inside a mind so keen
Will true love find me
And what stories will it tell
That love
Perhaps, will set me free
Will true love be
Will she pass me by anon
Like smoke
Or will she reach out for me
Will true love do
Will it quench this longing thirst 
That binds
Like a desert tide consumes
Must true love be
the soul yearns to find
The one
That fills the aching need

I like writing poems about love.

Still hanging out for it. Someday, it’ll find me.

Hopefully, when it does, I won’t be like the skeleton at the bus stop.

Embrace. A poem.

Start The warmth of embrace Lingering Bodies merge Hair mingles Tentacles feeling their way Gingerly at first Then with understanding Forthright Bellows breathe Entwined Reason forgotten Locomotion Salt and sea Taste the ocean Fish on your tongue Drilling for oil In the depths Until the end The fast release Raining inside The empty gesture The habit of escape Finish

Another experimental poem from me. Just in that kind of mood.

The Veil of Love. A Haiku Trilogy.

The Veil of Love (a Haiku Trilogy)


Two make lust make love
Their empty hearts clamouring  
Blindly revealed


Their fears awakened
A corruption internal
The red veil lifted


Point of no return
A course correction applied
Zero apogee


This came to me this morning. I love Haiku – it’s simple 5/7/5-syllable structure is challenging, but allows one to speak volumes with its brevity.

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