Upstart Photographer – Tallship

I take photos. I write poems. ‘Nuff said.

Cheers

Steve 🙂

Tallship. A poem.

You have bound me
as no ocean ever could—
wrapped in chains
and woven hemp,
fit to shackle Hercules.

Here I wait, as the wind
cajoles me with memories
of high seas and yesteryear;
my sails furled in impotence,
the waters lapping my bow
like a teasing mistress.

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.

Want to support Steve with a donation? Click on the donate link at the bottom of this page. Thanks!

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Beach Birthday. A poem.

Hand in hand,
across a billion pebbled seeds.
A heat frisson
murmuring beneath our feet.
Foaming cerulean
paints the shore in shadow,
while white light
turns supple skin scarlet
and melts concerns away.

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.

Want to support Steve with a donation? Click on the donate link at the bottom of this page. Thanks!

Upstart Photographer: Things #3

I like to write poems. I like to take photographs. Sometimes I take photos of things.

Here’s one, with an accompanying poem. I don’t normally write poems about things, but for my photos I can make an exception.

Cheers

Steve 🙂

Rocks. A poem.
Rocks awash
in sea-salt dreams,
caressed in pleasure
until they spume.

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.

Sea of Love. A poem.

I long for the sea,
to feel the bright whispers
of the surf and salt
between my toes,
the sand crumbling
beneath my feet.

I long to float in her,
to move my restless shell
along her graceful curves,
to feel her cold embrace
and her watery kiss
upon my face.

The sea, my long lost love,
that seems so near and far.
I beckon for a taste
of her abyss and
her fulsome depths.

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

An Exercise in Poetic Styles

Here’s a response I did for Uni. You might like to try the exercise out yourself.

Cheers

Steve 😊

Write a haiku (formal style) on the theme of water and then write a free verse piece (of no more than 10 lines) on the theme of water. Which style worked best for you? What stumbling blocks did you have to overcome in each?

Water Haiku

Your water cascades
Caressing valleys and hills
I will drink deeply

Stephen Thompson

Deep Water

Deep
 
How deep my heart has sunk,
into depths
unmeasured
 
(I swim
amongst broken hulls and dead men’s skulls,
coral memories and crustacean verdigris,
viscous cold and furtive shoals
shaping origami headstones,
draped in ocean’s finery.)
 
How drenched is my heart,
drenched in depths
unmeasured
 
Deep  

Stephen Thompson

 

I enjoy writing Haiku because it can be challenging to find a theme that works in the 5/7/5 syllable structure. Haikus can say so much in so little space and it’s one of the reasons I love them so much.

Free verse is always fun, because I can play around with meter and time, line length, enjambment, etc. without any need to worry about poetic constraints; it’s easier for me to come up with interesting imagery. Often the theme of the poem presents itself as the poem progresses, or a new one is formed when the poem is completed.

I love free verse, but I believe that learning forms with specific poetic structures (such as the villanelle, sestina, pastoral, etc.) force you to be a better poet, because you have to work outside your comfort zone and within a stricter format.

Cheers

Steve 😊

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,
I float in liquid suggestion.
Here amongst deliquescing salt,
I make my mark and plough you deep,
from here until eternity’s siren call.

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!

Driftwood (Beached, part 3). A poem.

Driftwood,
floating on
percolating tides.
Saltwater soaks
fossil branches.
Sand embraces
nooks and crannies.

Driftwood,
meandering,
awaiting
a tactile, tacit end.
Longing for
a final, lasting
beach head.

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!

 

The Board (Beached, part 2).

Tri-fin cutting foaming swathes
in majestic, molten, crashing waves.
Off-shore wind: the only stakes,
paddling out to meet the break.
To take his certain place in line,
for the weaving surf to redefine.
To forge a newborn legend free,
the board; his truth, his destiny.

Dedicated to my good friend, Andrew.

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!

The Wild Surf (Beached, part 1). A poem.

The wild surf, like his impetuous heart,
pounds and beats the sandy shore,
like a pugilist with vanity to spare.
Here the relentless, crashing waves
make their mark in odd time signatures,
in fluid and passionate syncopation,
a symphony of wind, water and sand.

The spray in his face is explicative
of this subtle, blithely carefree place,
all this beach has ever been
until time ends and begins again.
The ocean’s magnetic riptide beckons;
a spirited soul returns freely to her fold.
Here his heart forever rests in she.

Dedicated to my good friend, Andrew.

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!

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.

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