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Best Poems Written by Stephen Tate

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

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Tomorrow

Hells stone fury cannot find me here
The raging of the dawning light cannot be the one within us
I am perpetually hidden within this wound of words
And you…
Black rusted clean of fine rubbish
And I know you
A thousand deaths that took my life
And you still live
Blackened are the steps,
leading forward, 
ever forward
A whirlpool of thought
And forward to oblivion
Searing flame burned them long ago,
for the begotten fools of Trust and Reason 
saw everything
And know nothing
Nothing
Falling hands lift to smash the mirror
As the finished sound dies hollow
For me, the quenching rain will not come
Eternity tomorrow
Hell, standing on the face of the sun
By thieving Heaven
Butchery
Tomorrow will not come

Details | Stephen Tate Poem

Riven

I believed in you.

I saw in your eyes, my faithful friend
I saw in your lies, my path to an end

And I believed in you.

There are cracks upon the broken ground,
And now, upon my path I’ve found,
That there is no forgiveness,
No God, nor glory.
Only the bladed cold of emptiness,
And the vengeful hand of fury.

I had faith in you.

Faith in the worthless words you’d say,
Those lies upon the world.
Grown heavy in the hand,
And borne heavy by my heart.
For the longest lies are ever whispered, 
Slowly,
And into the ever-grasping dark.

I loved you, Woman.

The coal dark embers of a fire burning.
The pale of tomorrow’s soulless yearning.

Love and Faith, as you asked of me, was given.
All by all, what’s inside of me, is Riven.

Now you think you’ve walked away,
That there’s nothing left to say.
Looking back and laughing,
While the world, content, is passing.

And I believed in you.

Not one word of honesty,
Did you ever truly share with me.
And I should really let you be, 
After all that you have done to me?

You shall see how I despise,
When you look me in the eyes,
And know that your mistake,
Has simply led me on to Hate.

The Vengeful hand of fury…
Is mine.

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Along the Way

Once I knew a woman worth waiting for.
We met along the way.
Once I knew a woman worth living for.
And we met along the way.
Once I knew a woman worth loving.
She was there, along the way.
Once, but she has long since gone now
And I lost her,
Along the way.

Details | Stephen Tate Poem

My Sweetest Kiss

Dedicated to Anita Rae-

There is nothing more than this,
Than the brightest, sweetest kiss.
Nothing more in this whole world,
Than the name of this fool girl.
And I should greatly be remiss, 
If I dismiss, my sweetest kiss.

Details | Stephen Tate Poem

Who Am I?

Who am I?
I am the tread of hardened history
That whispers of tomorrows passing
I am the Father of the Sky
And the Son of the Moon
Who am I?
I am shimmering shadows on an Earthly shrine
As reflections of a ghostly pale
I am the son of a mother-less World,
resplended in sorrows dreadful repose
I am the piercing light that breaks the binding darkness
I am the weight of the overturned stone
Who am I?
I am the baleful stare of jealousies wicked heart
The pull and tear of desires frothing purge
I am the blank countenance of the defeat of knowledge
As the Wolf that howls at midnights turning
I am the deaf ear that looks past the darkness
As eyes that are blind, but see
Who am I?
I am Death
And from life I have come
All these I am
And of I have gone
I am the Son…

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Madness

Madness
Take my eyes
I have no more use for them
Blindness is so much more
Than what I use them for
And my sense of smell
Take that as well
I have no use for it
No more the world of roses bloom
In this wretched, sightless place
Madness
Take everything
For I have gone insane
No more to bear this weight of life
Madness
Save my soul

Details | Stephen Tate Poem

Hells Wings

We dwell among wicked and of the seven paths to hell.
Not among the righteous, nor the path that angels fell. 

Hells Wings are shrouded,
And dark within this cast.
Crimson bone tipped, touching,
Wrapped tightly around my Heart.
For every breath that I have taken,
And every breath that I will take.
For every hurt that I awaken,
And every hurt that I will make.
I see you.
Standing there.
Laughing.
Betrayal fresh from your lips.
And still un-touched by hurts bloody kiss.

My Rage is a dwelling place,
And I have fallen, deepest down,
Into that hollow space.
Wherein those fires burn.
Warming,
Caressing,
Soothing me
With the softest of whispers.
Making me be again.
And I embrace it.
For my wrath is the wrath of Hell.
And my rage, eternal springs,
From the place where Lucifer fell.

I can only smile.
For the fires that burn in me,
The fires that consume me,
Moment after moment,
Betrayal after betrayal,
Lie after lie,
Sin after sin. 
The fires that you started,
Created,
Are not meant for me.
Those fires burn for You!
The flames long to embrace your flesh,
And share the suffering that you have inflected,
So happily,
Onto me.
Soon, not long now,
And you shall know what I know.
Feel what I feel.
Before the fires ends it all.

Details | Stephen Tate Poem

Killer

Killer in your dreams
Come to warn you of Disaster.
Contemplate the separate factions.
Send you a night dream,
Of scarlet elevators,
And Castles made of brick.
Nothing less than killing.
Dye you purple kind.
On and on, 
The questions go,
Of this Killer in your dreams.
Almost nothing is whispered,
Of the Dreams within your eyes.
For the Killer in your dreams, 
He wears a face, like your disguise.
In hope that dreams don’t fade away,
But just get hard to see,
For those who close their eyes.

Details | Stephen Tate Poem

This Curse of Life

These Gifts.
Frozen by the hand of fate,
And covered by measured hate.
Never knowing one the same.
Never knowing, but by name.
And knowing naught but who to blame.

This gift of life,
A curse of strife.
Never knowing the reason why.
Never knowing, though we try.
That life is but a lie.

Filled with memories
Both gentle,
And sad.
Some treasured thru the echoes of our years
Some hated thru the taste of our tears,
And thru a prism viewed.
But the only fact that can be told,
Is that life is just a lie.

Details | Stephen Tate Poem

Fallen

There is a single red rose
Amongst the fallen leaves.
What is it doing there?
What exactly does is mean?
Is it just a mere rose
That has fallen by the way?
Or is it someone’s World,
That gave in to the sway.
No,
It’s just a rose after all.
All crumpled and worn,
Its petals all torn,
Away by the storm.
And was forgotten,
In the, 
Fall.