Stock Still Poems | Examples

Centre-Stage

Consider the man in the street if you will
what's he doing there standing stock-still
maybe like the chicken he's crossing the road
and half-way over with nothing better to do
only slowed to admire the view
perhaps he's pushing his luck
for remaining stationary no doubt about it
he'll be hit by a van car lorry or truck
let's hope it's not so as hearing them coming
the man in the street beats a hasty retreat
making hay he hits the ground running
and his narrow escape's a clean getaway
to dawdle or dilly-dally down all his days

The Final Beat

He sat in the street, reaching out for support.
He did not shout or sing or beg.
He looked and smiled and shivered,
shaking in his cardboard bed.

The snow came down, December time,
cascading softly through the air.
But winter’s chill brings ringing bells—
no space for him, no mercy there.

No warmth tonight, no place to go,
the shutters down, the bitter bite.
He pulled his coat, so thin and worn,
and yearned for times before the scorn.

On Christmas Day, he sat stock still,
as voices bustled down the street.
A world alive with cheer and song,
but none could hear his slowing beat.

And when they came to wish him well,
to toss a coin, to share some cheer,
he sat stock still—his breath was gone.
His final beat.
His final beat.
His final beat.

Flying Just Off The Ground

It took me years of training
to move my legs like this,
gliding over the granular
on long feet with curved width,
to make my legs flail left and right,
my upper half stock-still,
balancing and countering
so I won’t take a spill,
I’m going about forty-five,
but I’ve got no steel cage,
just long blades cutting through the white,
so long as it behaves.
Gravity is now my plaything,
as much as I am hers,
cross a mile in two minutes,
a small grace I have earned,
the blur of speed makes its own wind,
downs out the weaker noise,
just a fast bubble around me,
that calmness I enjoy.
Gray mercury says twenty-three,
but I don’t feel a thing,
you really only note the chill
when you have stopped moving,
my weight becomes a shifting ball,
it flows, then it slams home,
at other times it’s zero-G,
a feeling few have known.
Winter-brown trees are flashing past,
guiding the broad, white trail,
they remain still, branches don’t wave,
this time I am the gale,
it’s rare to find a day like this,
where crowds don’t slow you down,
when you can streak across the snow,
flying just off the ground.

Natures Cruelty

Sitting in the shade of a willow tree
Reading, relaxing, enjoying the day
When, in the corner of my eye, I see
Soft shadows shifting and watch a stoat sway

Not moving a muscle, nerves all on edge
My eyes went searching, covering the ground
And there, in full view, beneath a brown hedge
A lone furry rabbit, helpless to bound

His stance was stock still, as if hypnotised 
Standing seduced by the predator’s dance
His life, in an instant, was sacrificed 
The rabbit, poor thing, had never a chance

Here in this valley beside a still brook
I read a sad page from natures own book.

Bound by Faith

    Why is it called ‘The Binding of Isaac’
       if it was Father Abraham’s Final Test

    Isaac demanded to be bound to the altar
       to lie stock-still ~ Father would do the rest

She Kissed Me

This is not exactly a Valentine piece, but Happy Valentine's Day, anyway, PS...


She kissed me.
She made me close my eyes,
And then much to my surprise,
I could not suppress a grin
When I felt her leaning in,
And then she kissed me.

I liked it.
I held my breath and waited,
And stood stock still 'til I found the will
To mutter what, I don't recall,
I only know that kiss was all
That I'd anticipated.

She loved me.
She whispered softly in my ear
Those words that I'd so longed to hear,
And in my heart and soul I knew
That what I'd heard her say was true,
She loved me.

I kissed her.
The second time her lips touched mine
I knew our hearts were intertwined.
Those muttered words I now recall,
I said I hadn't lived at all
Until she kissed me.

Most Beautiful Christmas Poem

Far beneath the thoughts of everyday the lingering concept of 
a Living Star, exists * 
Christ, the bright and shiny Eastern jewel still breathes today
as it did yesterday. 

I am lost in a sea of awe, 
like a little child who has just discovered magic.
Outside a snowy landscape of beauty takes my breath away,  
inside, the slow mellow flame of Christmastime enflames me. 
I can see it now in the clearest way,  
a manger far away birthing a Child of Holy Grace. 
Stock still I hold the images in my mind,  
as I hang another bauble on the ornamented tree.  
Outside the stars are shining bright well into the night.  
far beneath the thoughts of everyday, the promise 
that tomorrow will be here once again to mark the birth 
of our Lord Jesus Christ.

A Town Survives By Fishing Early Light

My horse's haunches sway,
Saunter up hillocks and down a valley path,
Above a ridge off and on: a village where some people fish,
Phosphorescent flotsam washed ashore. 

Green embers breathe as if through shriveled lungs.
Wax in contrast to the gloaming dark that's coming on.
Shrubbery shadows lengthen, enlarging blacknesses.
Crickets ratchet down their temperatures.

The earth cools in wan mirage.
Time lapsed, the stars make
A slow, quiet carousel of lights.
It circles far above us disengaged.

Wings of crows scoop pools of air,
Then dive down open maws
On tiny, furred crawlers shocked stock still.
Crows chalk their caws across the night.

A copse will grow into a stand of oaks.
The vintage children like to climb.
Gnarled limbs reminding them of fiction sailing ships.
Hand over fist to where the topmost rigging is.

For now, people and trees are bottled tiny on a shelf.
At dry dock like some whittled models are.
Until the oak is christened keel and frame
And of agers live lives and make their livelihoods at sea.  (9/18/22)

Corduroy Pants and Caps

How swiftly my thoughts fly now
  to corduroy pants and caps

Facing a howling northeaster
  whistles, the rally of hunting dogs
     ~ the pointer locked, stock-still

Late One Night

Was there more to her 
  than met the eye
She kept to herself
  We all wondered why

Her smile fairly sparkled
  So did her hair
Yet none of us knew
  what went on in there

She answered most questions
  with just a yes or a no
Wore last decade's fashions    
  from her head to her toe

Late one night, though,
  I saw her alone in the park
swaying to strange strains
  I couldn't hear in the dark

Stock still did I stand
  when of a sudden 
she stumbled ---
  I blurted out, "You alright?"

At the sound of my voice
  she screamed and she fled
Apparently'd hurt herself
  The ground badly bled

No surprise the next morning
  Her absence from class
But I was shocked to find out
  that nobody knew 
     she'd been out and about

alone in the park the previous night
  that she fell and took flight
Was I the only one who had seen
  what had been, the drama play out

   Or was what I'd sure witnessed
      the mere shadow of doubt

I Am Accompanied By My Polar Opposite

i am accompanied by my polar opposite
i do not know why, but she is meant for me

if my smile was in the middle of a forest
a maze would be erased immediately
if my self esteem was in a cooking pot
not one bubble could expose the steam or the heat created
if my worth was on a cliff
it would stay stock still and forget the meaning of 'jump' or 'how high'
if my completeness was voyage to the end of the rainbow
the radiant aura of her presence would be God's Blessing In Diamond Studded

i am accompanied by my polar opposite
i will never try to comprehend, for it is my pleasure to lover her without question

A Voice Stirred From Within

When I stole a ball
   from the corner store
      Who are you
A voice stirred from within
   
When I told my best friend
   a bold-faced lie
     Who are you
A voice tugged from within
   
As I raised a hand
   to strike my child
      Who are you
A voice cried from within
  
As my good wife let me know
   she'd reached the end of her rope
That voice lay stock still 
   ~ I'd not done God's will

Right Before Christmas

right before christmas 
we eat a hearty breakfast and share raindrop memories
we both know that tomorrow may not be filled with yuletide bliss
we pray together for snow, laughter, and the remaining
we cry together when we think about what could come
mistletoe is the theme of possible finality
poinsettias is the hope that the joy of miracles is still believable
we wait by listening to free jazz and drinking swiss miss with the marshmallows
we stare at the view of the intracoastal waterway while conjuring up poems about tears
we sing songs from the 50s and early 60s to dissipate some of our many fears
now it is midnight and i hold you close to me....our heartbeats kissing rhythmically
we whisper merry christmas to each other and remain stock still
wondering what the next year will bring, she reaches for a gift to give to me
i tell her no need, she is the gift that i will treasure forever....
for everyday with her is a holiday....

Twenty-First Century American Pastoral

Stock-still statues
  Bucolic totem-poles
    Munching fly-swatters 
      Lazily grazing ... 

Invisible to driverless cars

It Could Happen

It could have happened 


The lane is empty siesta meanders forever among olive trees
and tempting almond flowers, but far I see an ominous shadow
coming towards me knife in hand.
Is he psychopath out to kill someone and not being caught or
a Farmer wanting a sample a twig with many flowers to take home
to his wife who is preparing the Sunday roast?

I stand stock still think of judo – something to do with feet-
no point outrunning him bring his undercurrent of hatred to a boil
then killing me with the pleasure of the hunt.
I pick up a stone he looks tens when passing me I pretend to look 
at the sky can`t have him plunging his knife into me.
He is running now, don`t know why was it the stone in my hand?

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