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Stephen Thompson Poem
The weak sunlight struggles through the smoke from surrounding factories
Puddling on the patched asphalt excuse of roadways
Oozing like grey blood from the gaping rusted gates
To circle the lost huddle of trees in their curb side fortress
Robbed of leaves by the careless cold grasp of winter
Their stark forms leaning like bones from a wound in the earth
Shrouds of grimy unread newsprint clinging to grimy feet
Cartons from fast food take-aways like discarded confetti
Litter the skeletal thorn bushes struggling for life between
And there, a bundle of fur and stench reveals
The unnoticed resting place of some unwanted pet.
Copyright © Stephen Thompson | Year Posted 2014
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Stephen Thompson Poem
if you go down to the streets today
beware of the frozen ground
if you go down to the streets today
you're sure to go slippin' around
for all the snow so pretty last night
has gathered there and turned into
ice
Today's the day you need claws on
your footsies.
winter time is such lovely fun
with snowflakes dancing in the light
watch them, catch them
challenge friends in snowball fight
you can sleigh, you can ski, print
angels in snow
"Till the cold and the wind come like
thieves in the night
and a fire and your bed fill your heart
with delight
it's cold down there in the streets
today
it's better to stay at home
it's vile down there in the streets
today
It's safer to stay at home.
the icy winds got spiteful alone
and turned pavements to soapy
stone
and getting around is sure to be no
picnic
Copyright © Stephen Thompson | Year Posted 2013
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Stephen Thompson Poem
The demon of anger invades my form,
Muscle crawling tension emotions swarm,
His mask becomes the skin of face,
Commanding blinkers narrow gaze.
Now the flesh of back and neck become steel.
The poison sounds belching from your lips to my ears,
Fuel a furnace of emotion in my heart that sears,
Boiling blood burns its path through my veins
Pumping up muscles with anticipation like pains.
In my head emotion unlocks the cage
where poisoned memories shake with rage
Like sick plague bunnies they f**k with my thoughts
Breeding beasts of rage with their slime and farts.
Valiantly my soldiers of reason and calm
Battle the horde with it's lust for harm
They may win, they may lose
But it's for u to choose
For the crimes that you did
And the words that you said
Wrote the play that will end
With this scene.
Copyright © Stephen Thompson | Year Posted 2013
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Stephen Thompson Poem
Kris kristofferson music prompt
Put your glass down by my arm
Pop the top and pour a beer
Just let it slide smooth down the side
'cos a head is bitter like the night
Outside the wind''s a raging fool
Who grabs my clothes and shoves me 'round
So let me sit here on your stool
And help me make it through the night.
The day was dreary
Work a fight
And now a storm
Captures the night
So bring your bottles of golden light
And help me make it through the night.
Copyright © Stephen Thompson | Year Posted 2018
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Stephen Thompson Poem
The picture is of an oldish man sitting on a hard chair in front of an Edsel on which is the painting of a fire. The room is concrete with some brushes and paints next to the Edsel and one coat hanging on the wall.
Fire Painting
The bare room speaks of remorseless times
of few, fickle buyers and assaulted health
The cockroaches of poverty swarm in dark corners
and scurry out at night to feast on his pennies
The invisible mist of despair seeps from filthy concrete floor
to caper, jest and pluck at his threadbare coat of fading pride.
Unquenchable spirit flowed from soul
Brush of wood and hair became wand
The dull, stained canvass smote with light
The flickering flames grew with every stroke
Memories of friends and laughter like twigs
Form the crown from whence everything springs
The red Winter Sun finds the passion of Life
Velvet Summer mornings gyre with joy and light
Anger and desire colour dance like sprites
Fused all together barely held by the frame
His fire of Spirit banishes the chill.
Copyright © Stephen Thompson | Year Posted 2018
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