The day after the pillow write

I wrote you a poem
I knew one was owing
It had to ring true and spell out how you are
You don't have a poetic bone in your body
So demanding your interest
Was going too far

Few of my writes
Had you on the invite
As you'd said that the meaning goes over your head
A role of the eyes is your silent reply
So til now I've kept most of them from you instead.

But the morn before this
As you planted that kiss
A poem emerged I was sure
would transcend
The picture it painted was
just as occurs
And I knew it would reach you, so I pressed send.

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poem by Stevie Taite
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Poetic licence

Poetic licence 

 I use my poetic licence a lot
Its a vital piece of ID
Border control won't let me cross
They'd stop me being as free

Its dog eared now beyond repair
And if it falls to bits
I'll order me another
For all language's misfits

I use it so much when I jiggle my words
Ought to get it laminated
Cover my back when the words don't quite fit
In the stanza I've created

The poem police are out there you know
In search of a dodgy poet
Always carry it in your head

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poem by Stevie Taite
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Pictures From Bama

My friend Tom's from Alabama
State bird, Yellowhammer
Golden rod's their state flower
By the road side, it does tower
In full bloom this time of year
Growing out of waters clear
Waters where the fishing's fine
Horizon lined with long leaf pine
These the pictures he sends me
Bitter sweet ‘heart of Dixie'
The best is when his time is free
In the sun he likes to be
Drives his boat to nearest lake
Leaving dry land in its wake
Catching bass of winning size
Aware of black bears watchful eyes
He contemplates a time gone by
Mesmerised by dragon flies
Who hover there, metallic blue.
Then blurred wing dart them out of view.

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poem by Stevie Taite
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Response to a great poem about spiders

I read a poem called ‘spider month'
It portrayed the fear, and was a triumph
In reply I wrote this poem below
(The poet was V. Doherty, so you know)

I also dread that time of year
But thankful for the flies they clear

I wish they'd hide, stay out of sight
Not scurry 'cross the boards at night

A movement in periphery
Makes heart rate rise immediately

I'm quick to make my feet retract
For fear of them is not an act

Perhaps we shouldn't be so hard
On keeper of the fly graveyard

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poem by Stevie Taite
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Buried Seed

She was sitting, pretty
The metal serpent was transporting her from her flowery garden.
The heat of Summer was beautiful, perfect, all she wanted.
Then why, when cool shade, with a gentle breeze, never failed to complement,
did the heat of the old city call her?

He was waiting
A skyscraper?
Her own shyness had once been the best and most obstinate doorman.
Never allowing her more than a glimpse passed his wonderful facade.
Leaving only the room in her mind to explore freely

But now, where confidence had grown and curiosity sheltered
Where the grass was well trodden
And foundations set deeply elsewhere.
The edge, that fear had
kept her teetering.......
Now she would land softly.
It was safe to seek the buried seed, that was never destined to grow under shadows cast.

poem by Stevie Taite
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I Pinch But Flesh Does Not Answer

I pinch but flesh does not answer
I know I do not have long here
A wave of hesitation washes wonderfully over  
 
On your face a serene smile
But you are silent
I steel a breath and drift to your side, through the daisies and buttercups

Innermost mind more endless than the universe 
But trustily it searches for our favourite haunt
You smell so very real and for a tenuous moment I am content

My weightless body feels small, wrapped in the memory of your arms
You cup my face in your familiar hand  and I taste  my tears
You never left me, did you? You did?  oh. I wake to a damp pillow.

It is best I am not the keeper of my dreams
The gate is unlocked and you are free to come and go as you please
 For if not, in sleep, death shared, as I would choose to sleep forever.

poem by Stevie Taite
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Friday Night

To this point in time the ride had been rough
But the demand on posture to counter the motion would be forgotten
As  impatience fermented  foretaste

We took the detour,  
Passed crisp, transparent slopes
Where mostly water fell into man made lakes
And the now distant mountains, with their treacherous descent  would become
Embellished with a layer of illusory snow
 
At last we could switch off the  noisy engine
And recline in our cerebral comfort
Intentionally stalling, windows fogging, distorting and enhancing the views.
Tunes  shared through the muffled transmission of inarticulate hosts

Maybe a fools paradise from a wiser angle
We didn't care! This place was familiar and easily accessible.
But we knew if we did not leave before darkness fell we could not return  home safely from here.
 

poem by Stevie Taite
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Cyberspace

To live in Cyberspace amongst the wireless whizzung binary
Puts a mask upon our face and affords us anonymity 

Its amazing how the jargon travels at the speed of light
So we shouldn't press the send button until constructed right

Some people cyber bully, some  people cyber brag 
Some people cyber buy and sell, and  some just cyber shag

The magic of the net keeps us 'caught up' and collected
It's criss crosses the globe, ensuring loved ones stay connected

Is it safe to live here and frolic in the mesh?
I'd say it's good for humans but it isn't skin and flesh!

Even FaceTime apps and Skype don't have the same appeal 
You can't give hugs in cyberspace, there's just no touchy feel!

I like the world it's opened up, It more than has a place
But let's not get so caught up we forget our open space.

poem by Stevie Taite
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Putting computers in their place

The age of computers and clever machines
Came from the minds of the human supremes
They thought it would ease
and relieve human plight
But the  truth is it doesn't with  thoughtful hindsight 
They may do things quicker and save lots of space
No need for CD rack or even book case
I connect with the world just by moving my thumb
And check if tomorrow we'll get rain or sun
It's all very clever but here is the catch 
What technology churns out a human can't match
So supreme own the world as all power they rob
And more and more people are losing their job
But poems and music and dance and great art
Set the machines and us quite far apart
From our brains come a wonder, it's what makes us great 
The expression of art forms, desire to create
A computer falls flat on its binary face
In this one respect, we put them in their place!

poem by Stevie Taite
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Castrate the crayon

Stalking in the shadow of syllables
Drooling at the curves of translucent lines
Slipping your warped finger under the hem of stanza
You transverberate through every victims creation
And the tight fit of their text
Makes you hold your poison pen
In sexual frustration.

What it produces is wasted semen
Ejaculating a commentary of callous cum
And the intelligent poems pity you
As you cannot control your
Sordid stirrings
Your crusted marks of degradation are wiped away with deepest disdain

You think you are so very clever
With the disguises you don.
So as to remain elusive and unstoppable in your destructive desires
If I could, I would find a way to castrate your crayon

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poem by Stevie Taite
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