When I talk to you, when I’m lost to the sanguine artfulness of your words. When your silken, soothing tones surround me like the warmest winter blanket. When the only light I need to guide me is in your rainbow eyes and sunshine smile. When the aspect of your face is the only solitary star in the darkening sky. That’s when I know I’m home. And that’s when I awake and know I’m still alone. Continue reading When (part 1). A poem.
I’ve tried to forget you (I don’t want to forget you). My emotions lay on the table like spilt wine; I tried to lick them up in a desperate alcoholic binge, without a care for my fellow patrons’ regard. Why are you fading from my mind, like an Alzheimer memory, like the seaside whispers of a shell, broken to pieces. I’ve betrayed me, so. I’ve let you go. I should let slip the dogs of war to chew on my weary bones, to remind me that I’m just a lonely man, that you’re just a lonely woman and that soon … Continue reading Game Over. A poem.
Wings – a haiku pentalogy 1. Moment One tragic moment to turn your heart into ice; extinguish the flame. 2. Deficiency Such deficiency within your mind, body and soul. Pray you find the light. 3. Your Turn Heaven weeps tonight with all the unworthy souls. Is it your turn now? 4. Redeemed Walk the endless night, a tightrope of redemption. Return on gold wings. 5. Open Arms Dare you try to fly into heaven’s open arms? The earth holds you firm. . Wow, this became a bit of a 5/7/5 syllable opus. Oh well, sometimes poems have a literal life … Continue reading Haiku Friday. ‘Wings’, a haiku pentalogy.
She is the subtle knife, slid between the ribs of reason. The subtle knife that slides into my heart and cuts it up, with far less subtlety than I deserve. Continue reading The Subtle Knife. A poem.
You conquered me like a mountain (or a molehill). Climbed me and then left me here, another spire to aspire to. Was I just a rocky crag used as a monument to your success? What was my reward, just a wanton moment, better to forget? Here I stand, wind blown and forever circumspect, a peak waiting on another expedition. Hopefully, one that’ll show me more respect. 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. Continue reading Peak. A poem.
I watched the black rain from my window. It spilled down the pane in tarry streaks, a Malevich canvas. I watched the flowers gently steam and wilt. The dark water spilled down onto the road and into the gutters. It flowed into the sewers and thence to the sea. There it merged with chemicals, plastics, dead fish and carcinogens, taking its rightful place amongst humanity’s leavings. Black rain spilled down my cheeks in tarry streaks. Continue reading Black Rain. A poem.
Are you faded and fated, to pass from memory as if you were an afterimage on grainy film stock? Or consume me whole like Jonah’s whale, where I will suffer forever and a day? I have wanted/needed you so desperately that I could not move or breathe without you taking control of me, like some mad puppeteer, pulling strings while I dance to some obscure polka tune. Why should I forget you? You, who stole anxious days and nights of worry, where my thoughts betrayed me and I wondered constantly if you hoped and dreamed (like me) or even felt … Continue reading Love Never Sleeps. A prose poem.
Sometimes when I’m by myself and the night has swept daydreams away, like dust from polished floors; when lights click off and the house settles in with creaks and purrs of contentment. Sometimes, I wonder where you are and whether I’m in your consideration. And sometimes, when my mind plays trick or treat with facile retribution, I want you here to play those games in person. Continue reading Sometimes. A poem.
Anxiety. A haiku trilogy. 1. Harbinger Tingling on your skin, harbinger of darker things. The skies open wide. 2. Run Run while you still can, ‘fore this acid rain melts you. Too much weight to bear. 3. Hide You can’t hide from this. A pall hangs over you that doggedly consumes. I suffer from anxiety, but manage it much more effectively now than I did a few years ago. These haikus are for all the anxiety sufferers out there. Stay strong Steve 🙂 My first book of poetry, The All or the Nothing, is available now as an e-book from … Continue reading Haiku Friday. Anxiety. A Haiku Trilogy.
My trajectory: sometimes straight and narrow, sometimes a drunk man attempting to walk a straight line, while the cop just rolls his eyes. My trajectory: never in doubt, sometimes questioning. A walk through a dark forest, as the furry eaves and murky weave close off any chance of escape. Clearer in hindsight, never misplaced. God-given, forthright and true. My trajectory: is you. Continue reading My Trajectory. A poem.
Fractious conversations; half-hearted, lip synced. Frantic fingers tracing familiar paths, back and forth across time and space. How much longer until each gives in, or gives up? Until the melodrama unfolds, like poorly crafted origami and becomes a crumpled paper crane. Aimless fingers tap dance, until the music ends. You need to be somewhere else, other than your own space and time. Stop typing! Feel the breeze on your face. The world awaits. Continue reading Chat(less). A poem.
I’m tired. And my drifting aimless gaze settles on a distant mist-like haze that wells up continuously inside, like savage, misplaced pride, and makes me drop like a stone into waters unknown. Lost on cruel tides that wend the capitulating ocean to its end. So tired. If only sleep could solve this quandary, instead of leaving me on the periphery of a world that spins aimlessly, through head space and trickery, and leaves me wanting nothing less. And nothing more. Just tired. Time to leave this place. Steve is a literal starving artist. Please keep the dream of poetry alive … Continue reading Tired. A poem.
Just one tiny moment of her time. Just one glint in her eye. Did she look my way? Is she thinking about me? A lifetime of insecurities, rearing like some untamed bronco, kicking my ass before I’ve a chance to tango. And now, here I am, stupefied and indignant, wondering what do I do to impress her next? Maybe I could put myself down again, or perhaps be less vexed. Or maybe I could just retreat with my tail between my legs. No. Not this time. Time to make a stand. Let me just catch my breath, pull on the … Continue reading The Stand. A poem.
Take down the green, straddle the Earth with the carbon footprint of giants. Every tree felled, another wooden nail in our meagre wooden coffin. Let the next race be won by whomever loves this planet more than humans being, who in our rush to claim the prize have won nothing but dust, rust, and forgotten lies. Continue reading Dust and Rust. A poem.
I’m forever haunted by this phantom limb, writhing in my sleep, guilt stricken for my sins. I see you in every couple on the street, and at the coffee shop, where we drank each other in. It feels like you’re still across from me; the conversation, imagined and forlorn, accusing eyes that follow me no more. Your ghost absorbs my days and nights, a peripheral blur, just out of sight. Time heals all wounds; such perfect sense, but not in my experience. You’re the limb I lost, that still persists. A phantom limb, my will insists. Continue reading Phantom Limb. A poem.
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