Entrenched. A poem.

Entrenched within

Mud to knees
No flight from here
A no man’s land
Of blithe confusion
And emptiness

Entrenched within

This sharp regret
Like a bayonet
Some veiled remorse
And back and forth
In the wasteland

Entrenched within

Over the top
Until you’re stopped
Bullet or ballad
Fleet foot, fallen
And no escape

Entrenched within

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.

Corruption. A poem.

Your corruption has taken me
Down and done, blistered and foul
Every stream, more pain to cross
Until this bitter pill has done its
Sour and murky job
And set this soul to rights
So I can ride again
But always with this fear
That your corruption
Will bring me down again

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.

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.

Curious. A poem.

Mister curious

Digging up questions
And quotients
And seeking answers
Undivided, yet multiplied

How curious
Can one man be
In a world where
Everything
Is laid out plain to see?

Keep digging

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.

The Hole. A poem.

The hole stares back at me,
A great, unblinking eye
That will not let me be.
The hole is black as pitch
And filled with pain and lies,
Every scar and every stitch.
The hole it draws me in,
Inescapable gravity,
A match I cannot win.
The hole encloses me
And I am down again
Never to be free.

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.

Leash. A poem.

A vague and secondary feeling
Unkempt and untrusting
Creeping through my head
Like an uninvited stranger
And yet so familiar

Just as I’m feeling good
about myself and my world
The black dog bites me
A subtle reminder
Of his taut, choking leash

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.

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
Complacent
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.

Trapped. A poem.

Isolated
Alone
Weary
Waiting

Life without meaning
Contemptible in reproach
Self flagellation
And inimitable doubt

Tired
Empty
Sad
Succinct

Selfish and self-absorbed
Mired and wallowing
The constant reprobate
Entwined and enshrined

Endless
Pitiful
Artless
Vacuous

Circling down the drain
Longing for escape
Dead thoughts and dead time
Grasping for hope

Longing for an end
In a world without end

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.

Rebirth. A poem.

I wondered how
You were, you see
Tracked you down
More than easily

Just a single look
I knew, though hurt
On, you’d moved
From that cold, cold birth

Which was all I wanted
Both then and now
To take that pain
And slice it out

Cast on the pyre
With sullen doubts
I’m glad your sails
Brought you about

And I thank the one
Who achieved the task
Who put to rest
Your weary past

Just one last glance
Into eternity
I’m gone, you’re gone
Reborn as seeds

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.

Abstinence. A poem.

You abstain in the light
At night, small confessions
Are saltwater wreaths
Around your neck
Dragging you along
In a relegated riptide.

This abstinence
Has carved a furrow
And driven conversations
With shadows and mosquitoes
Wondering when the light
will answer you again.

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.

Fences. A poem.

I thought I’d mend some fences
Build them up to break them down
Fill in all the trenches
Dig the mines up from the ground

I thought I’d build some bridges
And meet you in the middle
No more complex negotiations
No more angst or pointless riddles

I thought I’d mend some fences
It was all I’d ever want
But the fence needed agreement
To break this long détente

I thought I’d mend some fences
Build them up to break on through
Instead I’m tilting windmills
And I’m no closer to the truth

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 Music in Me. A poem.

Why the sadness,
the music tugging
at heartstrings
in pizzicato fashion,
stretching my angst
beyond reproach?

Why the darkness,
flowing in a
syrup-like tsunami,
to swallow my horizons
and the shoulder I’ve
hung my head upon?

This rhythm and rhyme
brings me down
and wrecks me,
wrapping me casually
around the telegraph pole
that should instead
have been you
and
only
you.

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 Pantomime. A poem.

The tears keep me awake at

night;

they burn my eyes and ducts,
sodden flames licking,
smoke broiling,
consuming the room of my

head

until I’m fit to choke
on all the pointless

condescension,

spluttering, unkempt,
raw and misbegotten.

Soaked in a pantomime
of longing and rejection
until the show is

over.

Those tears remain,
salty dew trails
that scar my cheeks,
a tattooed reminder that

never

leaves my side.

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!

Rehasher. A poem.

Don’t you tire of the same old thing?
A less-than-subtle rehashing,
a troublesome re-treading,
a more meagre repetition
of what’s come and gone before.

Finally time to
Uproot all those
Common thoughts and
Kill them dead.

Your groove has become a rut
that gets deeper every
overwrought time.

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!

Sweet Nothings. A poem.

Head down
Black entrails entwined
Around my throat
Choking the life
And whispering

Sweet nothings

Of mindless contempt
The residue of years
Of churning anger
The spittle of malice
And undisputed loathing
Clawing its way
Up from within
Until it’s without
Plastering the walls
Layering the floors
With enmity

Sweet nothings

And condescension
Are all that’s left
For me

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.

Tears. A poem.

Succinct and retrospect,
mercury lines connecting dots,
snaking and entwined,
‘tween valleys and hills,
pooling at the feet:
drowned confetti dreams.

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.

Died Inside. A poem.

And as I slowly died inside
within the canny matrices
of my mind,

I came to understand it all
everything I’d ever been
done and seen,

as if every strand
was a flower bud opening
for the first time.

And as the tears flowed
and doused the floor
my sins like wine,

an overturned wash bucket,
overdue for mopping,
I slowly died inside.

And the loathsome cancer
of self-pity, self-hate,
and self-loathing,

took root and multiplied,
a calculus of lethal and
poisonous last rites.

The sum and division
of you and I.
I slowly died inside.

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.

Nostalgia. A poem.

Nostalgia
On my mind
A keepsake
Turn it over
In my hands
A snow globe
Filled with memory
And the dust
Of fickle years
And absent foes
Now long forgotten
But present still

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.

Haiku Friday: Third Degree. A haiku.

Third Degree
Caustic heart branding
third degree burns on my soul.
Tell me again—why?

Haiku is a Japanese poetic form with a strict 5/7/5 syllable and line structure.

Cheers

Steve 🙂

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.

Surburbia. A poem.

                                My hurt
                                My tears
                                My pain
Are nothing more
Than your
                                Knowing smile
As you turn
And walk
While the
Rain washes
                               My frozen
                               Suburbia
Clean but
Still grey

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.

Shade. A poem.

There’s no rain, but the wind
blows and buffets and billows,
like an intransigent wolf at my door.
Cocooned in my chair and cold
sweeps and seeps through joints,
a lubricant of low viscosity oil.
The fire inside is only embers,
charcoal broiling in an emotive stew,
churning amongst gristle and bone.
What I’d give to fade away,
a listless shadow as the furnace
dies and dulls these pitted memories.

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.

Stump. A poem.

I’m just a stump

By the road

You took your axe

And cut me

Down to size

Left me here

Just a stump

With not much

To reflect on

But passing traffic

Erstwhile glances

Just a stump

Worn and threadbare

Just a stump

Cut down in my prime

Admire your handiwork

As you pass

Stump

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.

Party Girl. A poem.

She died that day, kept all inside,
No longer daddy’s joy and pride.
The little girl that love rejected,
forgotten in her wayward stride.

She turned to other things and men
and they did have their way, but then
she never seemed to learn from them;
the spin-cycle started once again.

She tried and tried to face her fears
but all the abject lies and tears
did make for thrilling bedside tales.
If only someone new would hear.

She lived to love another day,
never learned the error of her ways;
no, not then or now or when.
Perhaps tomorrow: ‘til then, she’ll pray.

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

The Difference. A poem.

Not the same,
not the way it was before,
even though it was nothing less
and nothing more,
it’s not the same.

Just a shame
it’s not like it was before,
even though it could never be,
of that I’m sure.
Such a shame.

No one to blame,
and neither here nor there
or anything in between, you see,
of that I am aware.
Nothing left to say.

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.

Mermaid. A poem.

For far too long have I been bereft,
a lonely thing, dragged and left,
taken down to quench my thirst,
to bitter shoals to do their worst.
No sails upon this mast of mine
to catch the winds of better times,
to slice the waves and undertow,
one more soul, one vast ocean.

But things it seems are looking up,
the current here bends to my luck,
it guides me to the surface there,
and to her arms, a mermaid fair.
Perhaps it’s all a distant fancy,
a reverie, a wholesome fantasy.
Just illusions in my head?
Perhaps this drowning man is dead.

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.

Apology. A poem.

I’m so sorry that I left you
to face the world alone.
I’m so sorry for the things I said
and did, I will atone.
I’m so sorry I can’t help you
now, in your time of need.
I’m so sorry you won’t read these words
and know the pain I feel.
I’m so sorry life’s against you
with no allies by your side.
I’m so sorry I can’t save you
from yourself and from the lies.
I’m so sorry that your tears
now fall from vacant eyes.
I’m so sorry, this apology
will only just suffice.

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 Elegy. A poem.

It’s almost surreal
when your back’s against the wall,
your toes upon the razor’s edge,
one slip and then you fall.

It’s the strangest feeling
when all the good you’ve done
is dismissed as mere circumstance,
and everything undone.

It’s so hard to describe
when you’re under a microscope,
black dog by your side,
you’re victim to genre tropes.

It’s trying, to say the least
when all your pain and hardship,
is written off as wistful thinking,
then summarily dismissed.

It’s truly heart breaking
when your life is deemed unworthy
and you’re reduced to an empty elegy,
just a litany, said briefly.

Perhaps the fabled next life
will treat and judge you better,
enable all your hopes and dreams,
to live your life unfettered.

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

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

Grave. A poem.

I stand before the hole
that wouldst be my grave.
Where sullen earth
and tepid worms do cry
and call to me, my ample soul.

This grave I’ve dug
to fit my fettered frame,
denuded in the wintry night
to lie amongst the frost,
colluding with the fog and fug.

I will lay me down
and rest awhile, until my bones
do merge with dust and dirt
and the finery of such a life
is wasted and unwound.

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

Thoughts. A poem.

I thought the flow of tears would end,
the self-hate, internal rage would mend.
I thought my path was bright and clear,
a new and ever-present destiny.
I thought a kiss would heal my mind,
exorcise the demons stored through time.
I thought a touch would raise my hope,
a helping hand out of this hole.
I thought I’d bid black dog farewell,
but he smiles and snarls here at me still.
So many thoughts that rest in me,
this head and heart longs for reprieve.

I write a lot of poetry, some of which comes from my head, some from my heart, and some from my a$&@. Many of my poems don’t appear on this website. For more, 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 to treasure forever, or at least until some other e-book takes your fancy 😉

Sad Life. A poem.

Is this nothing more
than a sad life?
Materialistic imposition
and perspicacious exposition
all meaning nothing more
than a sad life?

Take this sad life,
open the cage perennially
and set it forever and eternally
free.

The All or the Nothing is my first e-book of poetry, available at most online book sellers. To find out how to buy a copy,
click here.

Would. A poem.

Would you shed a tear for me
when I’m gone or about to go?

Would you wave as I depart,
smile awhile, wander alone?

Would you care if I passed away
from this world, from this fray?

Would you be lost if I moved on,
a wilderness, your compass gone?

Would you shed a single tear
when I leave this place, gone from here?

The All or the Nothing is my first e-book of poetry. To find out how to buy a copy,
click here.

Wrecked. A poem.

My gallants and topsails,
tattered, torn and twisted;
shrouding the devastated deck
like grasping lichen on a forest floor.

My ship creaks and moans,
weary and spent from the storm;
a mass of broken timbers,
of shredded hopes forlorn.

The watery maelstrom pulls be down,
slaking this unholy, melancholy thirst,
grasping my hull solemnly
in an abattoir grip; a grating death rattle.

In the dank, dark green encircling below,
where dead men tell timeless tales of woe,
my ship will join my vacant hope,
upon the coral, where loneliness is sowed.

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!

The Timely Fool. A poem.

Long years of suffering,
so tinged with hope and fear.
I have watched you from afar,
but outstayed my welcome, here.
Now, your door has shut so tight
and my path to you is blocked.
Now, I’m back to wandering,
to the relentless ticks of clocks.

I wish that you could sight me, here,
from your tower, oh so tall.
But I am just a speck to you,
a distant, lonely thrall.
As I wonder through this wilderness,
my thoughts belong to you,
and as days turn into nights, adieu,
I’m your lost and timely fool.

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!

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