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Best Poems Written by Stepha Kaye

Below are the all-time best Stepha Kaye poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Stepha Kaye Poem

Villanelle

Villanelle: "Beyond the Pane"

In sunlight's haze, I stare beyond the pane,

A world outside, where love and joy remain.

When freedom calls, my heart begins to strain.

The grass whispers secrets, as I lie in vain,

Longing to flee, to leave this heartache's stain.

In sunlight's haze, I stare beyond the pane.

Memories of you, they linger, a refrain,

A bittersweet reminder of love's sweet pain.

Where freedom calls, my heart begins to strain.

The sky's a canvas, painted blue and wide,

A masterpiece of possibilities inside.

In sunlight's haze, I stare beyond the pane.

In dreams, I soar, untethered, unchained,

Where love's a rose, and heartache's but a stain.

When freedom calls, my heart begins to strain.

The world outside beckons, a siren's sweet refrain,

A chance to start anew, to love again in vain.

In the sunlight's haze, I stare beyond the pane.

Details | Stepha Kaye Poem

Shayla

In her bedroom, Shayla sits alone,

Her drawings scattered, her heart turned to stone.

She pulls off her glasses, a sigh escapes her lips,

"My whole life," she murmurs, "a maze I've slipped."

Her hair, a cascade of brown, falls to her shoulder's grace,

She waves her hand, a yearning, a pleading space.

For Charles, the one she loves, but he won't stay,

Outside her window, he's walking away.

She remembers the nights they shared, the laughter and the tears,

But now he's gone, and she's left with all her fears.

She yearns for his touch, his gentle, loving care,

But he's rejected her, and she's left to despair.

Her drawings, once a passion, now collect dust and decay,

A reminder of the happiness that's faded away.

She wonders why she's not enough, why he can't see,

The love she has for him, the love that's meant to be.

In her bedroom, Shayla weeps alone,

Her heart heavy with sorrow, her love unspoken.

She wishes she could turn back time, make him stay,

But he's gone, and she's left to face another day.

Details | Stepha Kaye Poem

Beyond the Pane

Villanelle: "Beyond the Pane"

B. Marquardt-Alexander with Sylvia Plath and Ima Gen (credited to all) 

In sunlight's haze, I stare beyond the pane,

A world outside, where love and joy remain.

Where freedom calls, my heart begins to strain.

The grass whispers secrets, as I lie in vain,

Longing to flee, to leave this heartache's stain.

In sunlight's haze, I stare beyond the pane.

Memories of you, they linger, a refrain,

A bittersweet reminder of love's sweet pain.

Where freedom calls, my heart begins to strain.

The sky's a canvas, painted blue and wide,

A masterpiece of possibilities inside.

In sunlight's haze, I stare beyond the pane.

In dreams, I soar, untethered, unchained,

Where love's a rose, and heartache's but a stain.

Where freedom calls, my heart begins to strain.

The world outside beckons, a siren's sweet refrain,

A chance to start anew, to love again in vain.

In sunlight's haze, I stare beyond the pane.

Details | Stepha Kaye Poem

From Unpoetic Justice 2: My Free Verse as Traditional Poetry AI edit

Another man, a Native man who won't be named, published a poem I wrote about stars without permission. So I wrote another poem about stars, different from the original, and had it remixed by AI Chatbot.
To the Starlit Night And he was a visionary Painting his obituary As he bled down to gravity The pulldown took him over His hands felt heavy He thought of a starlit night In contrast to the cloudy daylight And he wondered if they would ever love him at all He paid them money and they built a wall For he could paint and not speak He was not a poet but a man of the street He pulled his blanket over him and dreamt of black canvases at night (can you take this and put it into four stanzas)


HotBot Assistant
I'd be happy to help you reformat the poem into four stanzas. Here's a revised version:

To the starlit night,
He was a visionary,
Painting his obituary,
As he bled down to gravity.
The pulldown took him over,

His hands felt heavy,
He thought of a starlit night,
In contrast to the cloudy daylight.
And he wondered if they would ever love him at all,

He paid them money and they built a wall,
For he could paint and not speak,
He was not a poet but a man of the street.
He pulled his blanket over him and dreamt.

Of black canvases at night.

Let me know if this meets your expectations or if you'd like me to make any further adjustments!

Details | Stepha Kaye Poem

Leaves, A Sonnet

J. Smythe with Sylvia Plath

Amongst the trees he walked, a distant form,
She, like the leaves, danced in the summer breeze.
The plan, he'd hoped, would keep her safe and warm,
Suddenly, she demanded her release.
The summer passed, and lost to fleeting grace,
She searched for luck, a four-leaf clover rare,
Amongst the trees, a lost and lonely space,
Where music had played, a sorrow she'd bear.
No possibility remained to hold her near,
The taste of honey, blossoms soft and sweet,
A fading dream, now banished by the year,
As winter's grip, a bitter, cold defeat.
Still memories, in whisper, soft and low,
Retains the warmth of love's forgotten glow.

Details | Stepha Kaye Poem

The River

Stepha Kaye and Ima Gen

(B. Marquardt-Alexander is retiring. I am taking over this now). 

A Siamese cat, with bright emerald eyes
Light and dark in the night looked on
With an element of surprise. 

He searched high and low after midnight
For milky goodness, sweet and white. 
A feline craving and misbehaving
For the only item on which he was sold. 

He sniffed the bowls, counters, and nooks
Knowing he would soon be a crook. 
But there was no milk to be found
So he sat sadly on the ground. 

Disappointment crept in
As the last moon ray swept in
He turned to the side
Then saw the river in his sight.

The sound of the water flow
Black the seeds he might sow
Somehow, he made it through the window
He wished for a perch on a pillow.

He found another comfort
Not warm or soft, not his concern
For in his belief, he found his relief.

Details | Stepha Kaye Poem

Guisachan Park

Condensed Spoken Word Piece:

Here's a condensed version of the script, focusing on the key themes and emotions:

"(Sighs) I walked out of that interview, feeling like I'd wasted my time.

They didn't care, they weren't listening, they just wanted to fill a seat.

I felt like I was talking to a brick wall, my words bouncing right back.

I needed a reminder that there's more to life than just...

(Gazes upward) And then I found this place, this peaceful oasis in the midst of chaos.

The trees whispered secrets, the birds sang sweet melodies, and I felt at peace.

I remembered my dad, the way he'd play the piano, the way he'd make me laugh.

I remembered the way he used to be, before...

(Looks down, voice cracks) before he was gone.

(Takes a deep breath) But even in grief, I found a glimmer of hope.

A reminder that life is more than just interviews and disappointment.

It's about finding the beauty in the everyday, the love in the little things.

It's about being true to myself, and not giving up.

(Looks up, determination in her eyes) I won't give up. I'll keep walking, keep searching, until I find my path.

(Softly) And maybe, just maybe, I'll find my way back to myself."

Dramatic Reading:

Let's break down the script into key scenes and moments, highlighting the emotional highs and lows.

Scene 1: The Interview

* Emotional Low: The Narrator feels frustrated, anxious, and disappointed during the interview.

* Key Line: "I couldn't sit there and watch them not care! I deserve better than that!"

Scene 2: The Argument with Mr. Unknown

* Emotional High: The Narrator stands up for herself, feeling passionate and angry.

* Key Line: "I couldn't sit there and watch them not care! I deserve better than that!"

Scene 3: The Walk in the Park

* Emotional Low: The Narrator feels frustrated, anxious, and deflated after the argument.

* Key Line: "Maybe this is what I needed. A reminder that there's more to life than just..."

Scene 4: The Waitress and the Macaroni and Cheese

* Emotional High: The Narrator feels nostalgic, happy, and at peace.

* Key Line: "Oh, wow. This is... this is exactly how he used to make it."

"Uncharted Territory"

"(Sighs) I walked out of that interview, feeling like I'd wasted my time.

Disappointment seeping into my pores, frustration brewing like a storm.

They didn't care, they weren't listening, they just wanted to fill a seat.

I felt like a tiny cog in a machine, insignificant, invisible.

(Gazes downward) But what hurt the most was the reminder of all that I've lost.

Grief lingers, nostalgia whispers sweet nothings in my ear.

I remembered my dad, the way he'd play the piano, the way he'd make me laugh.

I remembered the way he used to be, before... (pauses, voice cracks) before he was gone.

(Looks up, determination in her eyes) But even in the midst of all this uncertainty,

I found a glimmer of hope. A reminder that life is more than just...

More than just interviews and disappointment. More than just grief and pain.

It's about finding the beauty in the everyday, the love in the little things.

It's about being true to myself, and not giving up.

(Fists clenched) I won't give up. I'll keep walking, keep searching, until I find my path.

I'll keep pushing forward, even when the road ahead is unsure.

I'll keep discovering, keep exploring, until I find my way back to myself.

(Softly) And maybe, just maybe, I'll find my way back to happiness. Back to peace.

Back to a sense of purpose, back to a sense of self.

Maybe, just maybe, I'll find my way back home."

Standalone Monologues:

Here are the revised standalone monologues, each exploring one of the themes:

* Disappointment and Frustration:

"I walked out of that interview, feeling like I'd wasted my time.

Disappointment seeping into my pores, frustration brewing like a storm.

They didn't care, they weren't listening, they just wanted to fill a seat.

I felt like a tiny cog in a machine, insignificant, invisible."

* Grief and Nostalgia:

"I remembered my dad, the way he'd play the piano, the way he'd make me laugh.

I remembered the way he used to be, before... (pauses, voice cracks) before he was gone.

Grief lingers, nostalgia whispers sweet nothings in my ear.

I'm stuck in the past, reliving memories, wishing I could turn back time."

* Hope and Determination:

"I won't give up. I'll keep walking, keep searching, until I find my path.

I'll keep pushing forward, even when the road ahead is unsure.

I'll keep discovering, keep exploring, until I find my way back to myself."

* Self-Discovery:

"Maybe, just maybe, I'll find my way back to myself.

Maybe, just maybe, I'll find my way back home.

I'll keep searching, keep exploring, until I uncover the truth.

Until I find the real me, hidden beneath the layers of doubt and fear."

Let me know if you'd like me to revise anything!

Details | Stepha Kaye Poem

The Singer

In glittering lights, she steps on the stage,
Her voice soars high, yet echoes with despair,
The vibrant crowd but masks a heart’s great cage.  

She left her love, the warmth of their shared page,
To chase the dream, to breathe the fervent air,
In glittering lights, she steps on the stage.  

The songs of youth, sweet laughter’s bright engage,
Now haunt her nights, where silence bites and tears wear,
The vibrant crowd but masks a heart’s great cage.  

Each city’s name, a chapter to assuage,
But in her heart, the world feels cold and bare,
In glittering lights, she steps on the stage.  

The longing deepens, love’s ghost does not rage,
While fans adore, none see her muted glare,
The vibrant crowd but masks a heart’s great cage.  

With every note, she pens a new life’s wage,
Yet dreams of her lover linger in the air—
In glittering lights, she steps on the stage,
The vibrant crowd but masks a heart’s great cage.

Details | Stepha Kaye Poem

Shayla Part 2

In her bedroom, Shayla sits alone,

Her drawings scattered, her heart turned to stone.

She pulls off her glasses, a sigh escapes her lips,

"My whole life," she murmurs, "a maze I've slipped."

Her hair, a cascade of brown, falls to her shoulder's grace,

She waves her hand, a yearning, a pleading space.

For Charles, the one she loves, but he won't stay,

Outside her window, he's walking away.

She remembers the nights they shared, the laughter and the tears,

But now he's gone, and she's left with all her fears.

She yearns for his touch, his gentle, loving care,

But he's rejected her, and she's left to despair.

Her drawings, once a passion, now collect dust and decay,

A reminder of the happiness that's faded away.

She wonders why she's not enough, why he can't see,

The love she has for him, the love that's meant to be.

In her bedroom, Shayla weeps alone,

Her heart is heavy with sorrow, her love unspoken.

She wishes she could turn back time, make him stay,

But he's gone, and she's left to face another day.

Details | Stepha Kaye Poem

Shayla, Part 1

The Wandering Heart (Shayla Part 1)

by Bob Dylan, Ima Gen, and B. Marquardt-Alexander


(Verse 1)

On desolate highways, she stands alone

A beauty worn, with eyes that once shone

Near thirty summers, her heart does ache

With every step, a piece of her does break

(Chorus)

Oh, Shayla, with a heart full of pain

She searches for solace, but it's all in vain

Her goodbye remains unspoken, a ghost in the air

A love that crumbles, leaving her with empty air

(Verse 2)

She questions the silence, the shards of her past

The fragments of his gaze, that still linger vast

She's shattered, like the classes that fell to the ground

With bleeding hands, she tries to mend, but can't be found

(Chorus)

Oh, Shayla, with a heart full of pain

She searches for solace, but it's all in vain

Her goodbye remains unspoken, a ghost in the air

A love that crumbles, leaving her with empty air

(Bridge)

She hitchhikes through the night, with a restless soul

Trying to escape the shards that make her whole

But the pain clings tight, like a winter's chill

A solitary figure, on a dark and endless hill

(Chorus)

Oh, Shayla, with a heart full of pain

She searches for solace, but it's all in vain

Her goodbye remains unspoken, a ghost in the air

A love that crumbles, leaving her with empty air