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Best Poems Written by Stephen Beach

Below are the all-time best Stephen Beach poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Stephen Beach Poem

What Little Boys Are Really Made Of


"Snips and snails
and puppy dog tails,
that's what little boys are made of.

Sugar and spice
and everything nice,
that's what little girls are made of."

But envious were boys.
So they broke all their toys
just to show they could be girls, the like.

The world wouldn't take it
at large, they'd forsake it
just to show boys that "good boys" are right.


So what do we do?  
Do we break all the rules,
or do we show that the rules should be changed?

The rules that say,
"Hey! You're not okay!"
That's a rule I don't think I'll obey.

Help the world see the love,
instead of the hate,
show the rainbow beyond black and white.

And the things we could do,
when we all pull through,
might make old Mother Goose change our fate.

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Ancient Circles

All the ancient circles 
that you will never know - 
they live in me.

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Lost Love

Lost Love

My mind runs wild and my eyes leak,
where do I go from here?
You tore out my heart with your nonchalant act
and my cries fell on only deaf ears.

I hate you for treating me with such love, 
for using my heart as your toy.
My everyday life is now empty and bland,
and my heart filled with all things but joy.

My ignorant soul is too stubborn, yet frail,
it crumbles like leaves in the fall.
To think of my happy days in your arms, 
but to you they meant nothing at all.

The worst part of all is my love is still yours,
My heart is still subject to pain.
Oh what I would give to be rid of you now,
your torture, your shackles and chains.

Details | Stephen Beach Poem

The Bomb

My life feels like a ticking bomb, 
threatening to detonate in my naïve face.  
I sit and watch the brightly lit timer as it slowly counts down to zero, 
and resets…

I am always on edge.  
Only this once has the torturous timer run down to nothing, 
mercifully ending my life.  

From the ruins of my wasted time on earth
the eyes of my tortured soul fluttered
as I realize my metaphoric death has been but a dream.  
My very soul aches, (I look around in bewilderment,
looking for the cause of my pain).  
Tears stream down my face as my eyes land on
nothing but the demonic, changing numbers.  

Cursing the endless countdown, 
I reevaluate and rise from the rubble of my life.  
Where I will go from here I don't know, 
but death is not an option my soul will consider today.

Details | Stephen Beach Poem

Untitled

Untitled

Flowers bloom in my soul as my cold winter fades
and my frosted heart slowly thaws.
I think of letting him in but my mind goes insane
because I’m breaking all of loves little laws.

He looks though my anger and tragic disdain,
he calms my once beautiful hate.
I let down my guard, like a moth draw toward light,
and I knowingly take in his bait.

His all-knowing eyes and his sweet, tender touch
make me feel as if all things are right.
I question my trust, but remove all my fears,
as he tenderly holds me so tight.


My emotions are crushed to think that he may
push me further away as we go.
But this thought I evade, my loss is too great,
and my heart will not let him say no.

Details | Stephen Beach Poem

Dreamed

Drea(me)d
 
I dread seeing you at night
when my mind should be playing catch-up. 
You plague the reality of my night
fashioning fear where bliss should be;
 
Fear of sleeping again
because your face is more than I can handle
in the dark shadows of the night
I hide from you.
 
Is it too much to ask to lose you?
To cut your memory from my banks
like the ever-eroding sand tearing out,
never to return again?
 
But you come back.
 
I sleep soundly
with no masked reminiscence of…You
resurface like a creature from the depths,
threatening to drag me down 
 
if I let you.
You would pull me down to the darkness of tomorrow
where from no one returns-
a bitter old man you’d make me,
if I let you.
 

But nighttime ends
and tomorrow begins
with it comes the happiness you’ll never see
because lost loves love their losses left in the endless sea.

Details | Stephen Beach Poem

The Great Question

There is a place
where life and love cease.

Do we see this place?
Can we touch it, feel it, taste it?
Is it tangible?  

Does it matter?

Details | Stephen Beach Poem

This Thing You Do

This Thing You Do

You don’t see the likeness between my loss and your gain,
The hurt and torture that you bring, the sorrow and the pain.

“It’s Okay though,” I tell myself, “just have fun and let go.”
But in the end, its not pretend, I want more than you know. 

When our hands touch and our eyes meet I feel it in my spine,
What I would give to hold you close and get to call you mine.

I will be fine, all I must do is simply close my heart.
But so you know, this thing you do, is tearing my apart…