Corridors. A haiku.

All these corridors
Merge into a common path
Leading me to you

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 or e-book formats.

Click here to find out how to get your copy.

Drowning Not Waving. A poem.

It’s so easy
to wave
And then
slide below
And let the tide
take me
Wherever
we’ll go

Waving
not drowning
Just a puppet
on show
Drowning
not waving
Behind a
curtain of woe

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 or e-book formats.

Click here to find out how to get your copy.

Delineate. A poem.

Let me draw an outline
Around your heart
And delineate
The love between
Let me itemise it
Systematically
Congruently
Congenially
Tangentially
Until it is so defined
That it no longer
Means a thing
To either you or me
Because logic
And love
Are not the same
And you and I
Delineate it
Differently

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 or e-book formats.

Click here to find out how to get your copy.

Blame. A poem.

I took the blame
For it was my lot
To stumble and toil
And make my weary way
Back to life
From whence I was cast
Aside

But blame should be
Apportioned
Fairly and to each
For blame lies not in one
But in the actions
And inactions
Of all

Forevermore

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 or e-book formats.

Click here to find out how to get your copy.

Murder of Crows. A poem.

A tendency to exaggerate.
Variable and inconsistent,
A migratory bird, unaware
Which hemisphere is up
Or what time of year it is.

A mountain and a molehill,
Keynotes of your dependency.
Furtive and insecure
And longing for approval;
All wayward illegitimacy.

Time to find the truth within
And not try so hard
To be party to an
Estranged and inconsolable
Murder of crows.

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 or e-book formats.

Click here to find out how to get your copy.

Switch. A poem.

I
stopped
to
think
and
thought

Perhaps I shouldn’t do so
Perhaps I should just stand and rise
Above all the crap I’m floating in
All the muck and detritus
I’ve let gather around me
All these years and tears
And heartfelt fears
That congest the waters
And drag me down
A skeletal grip upon my ankle
Clasping while I writhe
And shake in heedless contempt
Until I’m submerged within myself
And every opportunity to
Reach the light above
Is taken from me

As
easily
as
flicking
a
switch

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 or e-book formats.

Click here to find out how to get your copy.

Steak Sandwich. A poem.

Brown, blood-streaked
breadcrumb entree
Built to serve
Consistently
It roils and rocks
In the mouth, awash
Then on it floats
Sea of acid wash
A meal of kings
A grand entry
Ignominious exit
Consistency
Brown, blood-streaked
A warning bell
To the doctor, now
And time will tell

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 or e-book formats.

Click here to find out how to get your copy.

Pop Stars. A poem.

Too many pop stars
popping off like stars
or popping corn, just
Mini-fashion supernovas
grabbing my attention
in an explosion of pop culture
Sympathetically
Simplistically
Setting the scene
In just fifteen
minutes of sobriety

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 or e-book formats.

Click here to find out how to get your copy.

Sheets and Slips. A poem.

These sheets and slips
Abide with time,
Like tides and shores,
Old pick up lines.
These mountains climbed
And sacrificed,
To sheets and slips
And angst-filled lives;
That lost their way,
Were found again,
In the arms of a wayward,
Weather-less vane.
No wind or rain
From north or south,
No implications,
fear or doubt.
Just sheets and slips
And subtle mouth,
To find my way
Bring this ship about.

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 or e-book formats.

Click here to find out how to get your copy.

Well Spent. A poem.

My arms like tree limbs,
gnarled and objectified.
Here in the last remaining light,
reaching for an unreachable sign
by the side of a road,
long and bitterly loathed.

My feet encased in clay,
entrenched along with attitudes
I left in yesterday,
along with foolish platitudes
and angst-ridden symphonies
in flight and obscure.

Still the creaking joints reach out,
suppressing every thought and doubt
that lingers in the weary caress
of roots and reeds and weeds.
If you are only passing by,
perhaps you could spend some time with me.

At least I can guarantee
it will be time well spent, indeed.

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 or e-book formats.

Click here to find out how to get your copy.

Pulse. A poem.

Tar, congealing in your veins,
sheltering your heartbeat
in its quicksilver repose.

Aortic mysteries, dissected
atriums and ventricles
at ease and at odds,
pulling and pushing
through luxurious days
and overheated nights.

What will it take to quicken
your lackadaisical pulse,
to break your blood and soul
from this lethargy that holds
you fastidiously to ransom?

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 or e-book formats.

Click here to find out how to get your copy.

The Cycle. A poem.

The cycle is constant

Together, alone

I long for the instant
Until I’m finally home

I endure and I crave

The simplest life

Where my soul is saved
By my family and wife

But the cycle is constant

Together, alone

The cycle is constant
Until I’m finally home

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.

Your Eyes, an Ocean. A poem.

Your eyes, an ocean

Setting me adrift at sea
Just one miscalculation
and
Suddenly there’s
No star to guide me

Your eyes, an ocean

Subtle ocean homily
Expounding on a sailor lost
and
Anxiously not
Where he’s meant to be

Your eyes, an ocean

Given a sextant to perceive
Directly and indirectly
and
This distance made wider
Between you and me

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 – Knighted Tree

Poetry and photography, live together in perfect harmony (to paraphrase Paul McCartney).

Cheers

Steve 🙂

Knighted Tree - stevestillstanding.com

Knighted Tree

Armoured and encrusted
Barnacled and salted
Prepared to joust
For your ocean’s honour
Your everlasting foe
The ever-shifting shore

For more Upstart Photographer, 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 or e-book formats.

Click here to find out how to get your copy.

Too Many. A poem.

Too many regrets
upon my worn
and well-used slate,
to be reviewed
when l stand alone
at Heaven’s gate.

No just reward
for me, I’m told.
The chains won’t break
that bind me to
this certain and
uncertain fate.

I’ve tried my best,
or so I thought.
Never too late
to reverse the course,
to sail my ship, so
true and straight.

So much remorse,
that fills me up
with years of pain,
my tears resolved
by unceasing
and unending grace.

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.

Rainfall. A poem.

Pale droplets cascade
Down gray-faced facades
Of dimpled iron will
Collecting the residue
Of dusty acrimony
Along their chaotic
Weatherbeaten paths.

Pools of mercury
Dance in the afterglow
Rising and falling
To the somber occasion
And recalling times
And memories lost
Abandoned in twilight.

Rain, let it fall on me
And remind me of myself
As only I remember
And only I forget.

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.

Today/Tomorrow. A poem.

Today:

All at once, there’s no one there,
the dark, an isolation tank.
The world outside faded away,
a post-apocalyptic prank.

Tomorrow:

The light here that lingers on,
electric in the morning dew.
This joyous, often mellow song
that shows it’s face to me and you.

Today:

I’m excommunicated, now,
shunned, it seems, by those I love.
Black hole, it lingers here, anon,
crushing fractious head above.

Tomorrow:

Perhaps, I overthink too much.
Every thought, catastrophe;
maverick mountains, molehills grown
in usual, post-haste anxiety.

Today/tomorrow:

My burden and my onward sorrow,
a division so intensely personal.
The fate that I must always follow
—black dog consumes his fill of offal.

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.

Expectations. A poem.

How often do expectations
Let us down?
How often do we strain
And stretch the imagination
In a tug of war
Of real and immaterial
And how often do we fail
Because we thought
Just a little too much
And a little too long
A little too wild
A little too strong
How often do expectations
Let us down?

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.

No Muse. A poem.

I have no muse
And so my words
Flow winsome
And aimless
Waltzing on
To chaotic beats
And tiresome chords
Waiting for one
To lead me back
To place my foot
Upon the boards
To find the fire
And burn it bright
To shape the cadence
Of my heart
Until I should sway
And careen
And relive the light
Of ecstasy
In every word and
Cache of thought.

I have no muse
But she exists
In mind and soul
A vast horizon
That flows beyond
The scope of my
Fevered thoughts
And vacant brow.

Perhaps I shall write
Of her now.

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.

Consequential Rage. A poem.

I tire of being a wanderer,
of petty inconsistency
and introverted wiles,
bickering and bleating
in this bleak and vast
apogee of mind.

I wanted to be confident,
full of vanity and fire
—an actor on a stage—
such eloquence, so wild,
such convoluted things to say,
so naked in his pride.

But my mind said not
to question why I am,
why I think this way.
Why my heart transcends
and acquiesces,
it’s just the price I pay.

And so this tired wanderer
does blunder on and on,
making ripples in his wake
until his song is sung—
a mournful theme that sets
this sorry world aflame.

Until the curtain
and the page
draw to a close
this meaningful and
consequential rage.

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.

Scene, Set and Match. A poem.

Scene: a small, Italian restaurant.

Two newly-matched.
Time set aside.
Something right
and something wrong.
Laughter and humility.
Understanding and empathy.
Certainty and unreality.
Scene, set and match.

Let’s do this all again,
shall we?

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.

Guessed. A poem.

My guest, I guessed I knew you;
I was wrong, as I often am,
But fail to admit to.

My guest, you came and went away,
And left me wanting more,
As I have and will, for days.

My guest, I tasted the soul of you,
Guessed at the flavour, and,
Surprised, forgot the golden rule:

To love is, eventually, to lose,
No matter the guest
You guessed you’d choose.

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.

Eternal Vacancy. A sonnet.

You are as far from my thoughts as you aren’t
Sequestered and dream-like, merely a ghost
Wandering hallways that lie black and burnt
My mind harks to you, once or twice at most
Another fills this shady vacancy
Whispering lonely hellos and goodbyes
From the shadows that long imprison me
Manufacturing bindings for the blind
She dances, in 3/4 time upon the floor
Her message, all rhythm and subtextual
Her presence awakens the flame amore
And like the jester, I play the fool

Like all of my misguided gestures
Lost eternal as her spirit sings

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.

Driven. A poem.

The prairie and the road calls,
A waltz of remembrance
Dancing along the asphalt,
Like a tumbleweed made of last regrets.

The stick shift clicks in place,
The tension defining its existence
mirrored on the driver’s face.

Wheels spin and smoke
And the car strides forth
Like the lion on the newborn veldt,
Hunting for the prey that will stoke
Each and every kindled fire.

Every junction calls his name,
A whisper passing by
Like a ghost of Christmas past,
A brief entanglement in a roadside motel
That’s far too short and soon forgotten.

The freeway calls to him,
The art majestic and the weary eye,
Casting all doubts aside.
The way of all things revealed,
Found and lost and soon to be received.

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.

Mountain Climber. A poem.

I never found a mountain I couldn’t climb, you see.

Motivation was the biggest issue,
Dragging at my footsteps like leaden weights,
Pulling like some tug of war with Heracles,
Straining to be free.

When I made it to the top,
I would look out and celebrate my accomplishment,
Because though it was just one mountain past,
The next might be my very last.

I might fall into a chasm of my own making,
Suffer a landslide of confidence;
The rocky ground might break beneath my feet,
Offering no purchase or relief.

I never found a mountain I couldn’t climb, you see:
My only enemy was me.

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.

Footsteps Away. A poem.

I walk through the dark,
The sound of my feet echoing
Through the empty streets.
The dog stops and sniffs,
A victim of instinct,
circumstantial scents
and sense.

In the distance,
The thump of a kick drum—
Faster than my heart beat,
But just as reassuringly present.
Occasional passers by
Nod their heads or not,
Their shadows passing
Like uncommitted storm fronts.

Past restaurants where diners
Make faces in pantomime;
Charades played between lovers,
Long time friends
And new acquaintances.

This walk and sidewalk
Has seen better days,
The patterns laid down
For all to miss and misplace
In the quiet solitude,
As ostentatious fervour plays out
Just footsteps 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.

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.

Book Sale! ‘The All or the Nothing’ at 20% off for a limited time

Hi all

My first print poetry book, The All or the Nothing, is currently on sale for 20% off for a limited time. It’s normally $10.00 Australian but is now $8.00, which is approximately $5.60 American or 4.30 British pounds (my keyboard doesn’t have a pound symbol – DOH!).

Inside, you’ll find 62 poems about love, depression, madness, insecurity, anxiety, fear, heartbreak and dating. It’s enough to turn you to drink. But in a dignified, semi-happy way. Oh, there are poems about that, too.

To get your copy, click on this link: http://www.lulu.com/shop/stephen-thompson/the-all-or-the-nothing/paperback/product-23811868.html

Cheers

Steve 🙂

PS – My second book, Poetry for the Sad, Lost Lonely and Endangered is available as well (but not on sale – Double-DOH!). Click here for information about that one

poetry book - the all or the nothing - stevestillstanding

 

 

Influence. A poem.

I have read your words
And seen my influence

My mind is contours of constancy
Of riotous colour and ascendancy
My words spill across the canvas
Every emotion eagerly revealed
A zeitgeist for you to watch
And absorb and capture
Like a winsome butterfly

You take these pieces of me
And make them yours

But I am not bitter
I am a proud father
For a little part of me
Like strands of encoded DNA
And mental prevarication
Is birthed and lives on
In everything
You write

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.

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