8
April

Thoughts Upon My Bed by Rick Stephen

bedatnight
Thoughts Upon My Bed

 

I wonder

Has the night always been so deep
and dark?

In my youth, it seemed
much less so

When twilight thoughts upon my pillow drifted on calm breezes
into serene dreams

And always returned with morning’s wind
and the rising sun.

Now, tempest tossed, they are driven far, far away, lost
in night’s inky blackness

Ships receding, then slipping over unknown horizons,
never to return

So tell me

Has the night always been so deep
and dark or

just that my mind has become
much more so?

8 comments

18
November

Micropoetry – Alone on the Porch

porchsunset

sitting
alone on the porch,
the sun burning a hole
in the horizon,
a breeze, gentle,
ever so slight,
caresses my face and,
closing my eyes,
becomes
your breath

4 comments

16
September

Childhood Daze – Photograph and Poem by Rick Stephen

ChildhoodDaze_web

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22
May

Look within yourselves …

drinkbukowski

You are stronger than you know and the strength you need is within you. Do you believe that? When I get frustrated, feel inadequate, unsupported, feel like quitting … sometimes just feeling sorry for myself, I try to remind myself of this quote by Charles Bukowski.

I’m not saying that at times we don’t need friends or even help, surely we do. Life can be overwhelming. I’m just saying that, more often than not, we sell ourselves short. We’re far stronger and more capable than we give ourselves credit for. Frankly, I doubt thought most of us have any idea how strong we really are. Don’t give in, find out!

“drink from the well of your self and begin again.”

Just some food for thought.

2 comments

20
May

The Virtuoso by Rick Stephen

violinistThe Virtuoso

She plays me
gently, tenderly,
yet masterfully
as one would
a priceless violin
her fingers,
soft and supple,
caress fragile heartstrings
and her bow
with perfect touch
and time
miraculously make
a magnificent melody
in spite
of broken strings left
by the less gifted
or less caring before her
playing me as I am
yet finding the notes,
in sequences
and combinations,
that bring forth music
in the timbre of my soul

2 comments

13
April

In the Land of Ennui – Rick Stephen

This poem was inspired by a particularly slow and tedious day. I was far more than bored and blue, I suffered from full-blown ennui. It’s a word I rarely use but was most apropos, I think. As you read, you will notice a tip of the hat to William Shakespeare toward the end, a quote I think fit in with the flow quite well. Thanks for reading. As always, your comments are most appreciated!

ennuiIn the Land of Ennui

The sun rises
on another day
just one more
in an endless sequence
that hold nothing
but onerous seconds
followed by more
onerous seconds
making mundane minutes
and the minutes, irksome hours
laden with fatigue
marked only
by heavy sighs
and rolling eyes
holding no interest,
challenge or danger
only an unsated desire
for some flame of fire,
a spark of hope,
a break in the tedium
waited for
but not coming
and after waiting interminably,
suddenly,
the sun dips low
and shadows grow
the day succumbs
and what dreams may come,
will be my salvation,
in the land of Ennui

2 comments

27
February

A Desert Mind – Micropoetry by Richard Stephen

dry_desert-1221
Dry,
arid,
barren,
parched,
desolate,
desperate,
will words ever flow
from this shriveled mind?

4 comments

6
January

The Dying Sun – Rick Stephen

sunthroughblindsThe Dying Sun

Through the blinds, beams of light
slice through the dimly lit room
an angled pattern of light and dark,
like the many rails of a fence,
spreads across the floor and
up the wall as the sun
falls hurriedly toward the horizon

Tiny particles of dust float
aimlessly on unseen currents
disappearing, then reappearing
as they weave their way
through the light and shadow
it’s silent, save the purring of the cat
curled up in the sun’s warming beams

And your slow, rhythmic breathing
as you doze next to me,
my lap a pillow for your head
paper rustles as my fingers
turn the pages of my book
before they return, absent-mindedly,
to twirling your hair

Stirring briefly, you breath in deeply and
release a long, satisfied sigh
though it’s seems
only a few minutes
hours have passed
and the sun’s beams, now golden,
grow long

I can’t help but think this is heaven
and to wish it never end
when the cat rises,
lets out an irritated meow,
and moves to follow
the waning warmth of
the dying sun

6 comments

22
December

Finding Rest – Rick Stephen

Finding Rest

I wonder if it is better
to die and have life cease
or to live, lifelessly,
without hope
to die ends all hope
but to live without hope
is much worse
and far more cruel
for in dying
there is rest from hope
but living without hope
this is not so
for to be human
is to have always
in the heart of hearts
the hope of hope,
the mere possibility
and so there is no rest
the hope of hope
is always there
teasing,
torturing
I understand now
why death
is euphemistically called
entering into eternal rest
I wonder which is better

2 comments

12
December

The Train Doesn’t Stop Here by Rick Stephen

train

Waiting at the depot
darkness having longed chased
the last tinge of color
from the inky-black sky
a darkness perforated only
by the brightest few stars

I stand here alone
it’s late,
damp and cold
a fog builds in the distance
my breath fills the air
with swirls and curls of mist
drifting before my face
that spread out, then vanish
I think to myself,
“Now there’s a metaphor!”
while turning up my collar
against the chill
a shiver runs down my spine
I’m not sure
if it’s from the cold
or the irony of the metaphor
I laugh under my breath

My eyes anxiously alternate
between the watch on my wrist
and the tracks off in distance
it’s late, dammit, it would be
it couldn’t be on time today
damn you, Murphy!

Still, I look
leaning over the edge of a platform
illuminated by a lone,
flickering floodlight
straining to spot,
hoping to see
the glint of a headlight
piercing the distant blackness
the first sign even before
the wail of a horn or
the sound of diesel or
the clack of unforgiving wheels
on cold, steel tracks
the first sign
that tells me my long, bleak,
wearisome wait
will shortly be over

6 comments

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