Shores. A poem.

They stand on distant shores
With the distance between

(Insurmountable?
Never)

The ocean, just a puddle
Some are unwilling to cross

#BlackLivesMatter

For more Poetry, click here.

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.

Click here to find out how to get your copy.

Privilege. A poem.

White privilege
Is like the weight of a thousand jackboots
On our necks, on our backs
But we stand, we shout, we overcome

And by the time that coward leaves his baby bunker
And his gestapo have been brought low

We will make a world
Where privilege
Is not the domain of the few

But of the just

#BlackLivesMatter

#BlackLivesMatter

For more Poetry, click here.

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.

Click here to find out how to get your copy.

 

Poets Loved: ‘Beat! Beat! Drums!’ by Walt Whitman

Beat! Beat! Drums!
Walt Whitman

Beat! beat! drums!—blow! bugles! blow!
Through the windows—through doors—burst like a ruthless force,
Into the solemn church, and scatter the congregation,
Into the school where the scholar is studying,
Leave not the bridegroom quiet—no happiness must he have now with his bride,
Nor the peaceful farmer any peace, ploughing his field or gathering his grain,
So fierce you whirr and pound you drums—so shrill you bugles blow.

Beat! beat! drums!—blow! bugles! blow!
Over the traffic of cities—over the rumble of wheels in the streets;
Are beds prepared for sleepers at night in the houses? no sleepers must sleep in those beds,
No bargainers’ bargains by day—no brokers or speculators—would they continue?
Would the talkers be talking? would the singer attempt to sing?
Would the lawyer rise in the court to state his case before the judge?
Then rattle quicker, heavier drums—you bugles wilder blow.

Beat! beat! drums!—blow! bugles! blow!
Make no parley—stop for no expostulation,
Mind not the timid—mind not the weeper or prayer,
Mind not the old man beseeching the young man,
Let not the child’s voice be heard, nor the mother’s entreaties,
Make even the trestles to shake the dead where they lie awaiting the hearses,
So strong you thump O terrible drums—so loud you bugles blow.

Walt Whitman was an amazing poet. To find out more about him, click here.

Merry Christmas to all!

My favourite Christmas carol (okay, it’s only part of it, but I still love it!)

Silent night, holy night,
all is calm, all is bright.
Round yon virgin, mother and child,
holy infant, so tender and mild.
Sleep in heavenly peace,
sleep in heavenly peace.

Merry Christmas, one and all. May we find grace, joy, love and lasting peace in the coming year.

God bless

Steve:)

Christmas. A poem.

The lights shining on the tree,
the streets filled with gaiety,
presents, goodwill; how it’s meant to be,
not always reflecting reality.

He was born on Earth, a miracle being.
He lived and died, for us, you see.
His loving grace, it set us free,
so rejoice in Him, on this day of peace.

Faith, Hope, Love: is all we need.
Faith, Hope, Love: will always be.

.
Merry Christmas, everyone! May your Christmas and new year be filled with life and love.

Cheers

Steve 🙂

Would you like to read more poetry and prevent Steve from starving at the same time?

Steve’s first book of poetry, The All or the Nothing, is available now as an e-book from most online distributors. For more information, click here.

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