Bad Memories. A poem.

You still haunt
An incorrigible spirit
Infecting like
a wasting disease
And reducing us
To a mockery
of ourselves.

Here you sit
Having grown
Upon our shoulders
A ghostly monkey
Upon our backs
Rearing your ugly head
In constant remembrance
And bitter scorn.

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.

Upstart Photographer – The Book

I recently found a house in the mountains, burnt out and abandoned. Resting on a window pane, its tenuous pages teased by the wind, was a partially charred book. The page settled in the breeze. As I took a photo I noticed how tragically ironic the words were.

I had to write a poem about it, of course.


Steve 🙂

The Book. A poem (Abandoned, part 1)

Resting now, tales upended,
curled from flames at war,
your words not quite as meaningless
as others may have thought.
Each blackened leaf an anecdote
of irony, for naught.
Naked walls surround you;
a Dali canvas, all distraught.

You remain the lost reminder
of all the lonely souls before,
who paced this frame and residence
before the firestorm burned it raw.

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!

Remnants. A poem.

Rusted and decayed

Painted with dust and tears
And hues of better days

Faded now, weathered
By sun and rain in countless ways

Of waxing moons and waning dreams
Captured in a photograph
Like a long forgotten elegy

Spiderwebs cling to frames
Trailing silken memories
Trapping moments
Yesterday today

But all these remnants
Soon pass away

Like shadows
Without light

Boxes. A poem.

Life reduced to boxes
Cartons of memory
Refuse of lifetimes
Stacked and sorted
Taped and sealed
Like canopic jars
Awaiting the afterlife
Awaiting release
When stored thoughts
And precious mementoes
Will leap forth
With renewed vigour
From cardboard cages
To stride the open veldt once more
To live and breathe as before
Before time locked them away
In sealed boxes of fate
Unsure of eternity

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