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Steve Page Nov 2018
This isn't about front lines and deep mud,
it's not about sacrifice and bands of brotherhood.

It's not calling for silence or for national pride,
it's not about cenotaphs and those left behind.

No, this a thank you to one Ernest Page,
Gunner Sergeant, Royal Field Artillery, 182nd Brigade.

Thank you for ducking, thank you for dodging,
thank you for lasting, thank you for living.

Thanks for returning back home to Brockley.
Thanks for asking Gran and building a family.

Thank you for dad and for little Aunt Betty,
for Pam and for Pete and for cousins aplenty.

Thanks for Rose Cottage, for trips round the lake,
thanks for loud laughter and sleepy eyed late

mugs of hot chocolate and medeira cake slabs.
Thanks for my sisters, thanks again for my dad.

Thank you for surviving, and all that implies.
I owe you it all, I owe you this life.
I have my grandad's WW1 French English 'conversation book'. I have his stirrups too. He died when i was in my teens. I remember his cigars and his smile.
Steve Page Mar 2019
This is what I have observed.
This I have seen to be true -
You are not responsible
for their unhappiness,
nor for their disappointment.
These are their's.
These are from older seeds.

This is the greatest lesson.

The next is like it.
You cannot control
whether they are happy
whether they are content
with the answer.

So what can you do,
but what you know to be right,
what is said to be fair?
Do not test this
by their response.

This too is wisdom.
This too is a sadness.
Some folk will not be pacified.   Some are intent on rage.
Proverbs 22:24
"Do not make friends with a hot-tempered person, do not associate with one easily angered,"
Steve Page Jun 2018
She touched my ***.
I'm sure she touched my ***.
She's getting off on the 20th floor.
At least she did yesterday.
I've not got long.
What do I do? Turn and smile?
Do I subtly return the compliment as she passes by?
Did she touch my ***?
Or was it that bloke's bag?
I don't think she did.
She didn't touch my ***.
Don't be daft.
There she goes. 
I wonder why she limps that way?
(Sigh)
Blast, I'm late again.
Prompted by a line from Victoria Wood. She knew how to use the word '***' to good effect.
Steve Page Jul 2021
God came in three -
they set aside time and space 
for collaborative creativity

God came in three
and in that 'us', 'our' and 'we'
metaphored an identity of mutuality 

God came in three
advocating once and for all
a celebration of plurality

God came in three
illustrating that all families
are a godly thingamy

God came in three
inviting you and you and me
to join them
together for eternity


Genesis 1: 26. 
Then God said, "Let us make humankind in our image, in our likeness, ...
Genesis 1: 26.
Then God said, "Let us make mankind in our image, in our likeness, ...
See also Gen 3.22.
Steve Page Aug 2019
A pen,
a notebook
and idleness

- the three requisites for the manufacture of poetry.
John Cooper Clarke, poet, on Desert Island Discs.
Steve Page Feb 2019
'Though one may be overpowered,
two can defend themselves.
A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.'

Though one runner may stumble,
two can steady themselves.
A team of three athletes is not easily overtaken.

Though a single note may fade,
two can harmonise in concert.
A song of three chords is not quickly forgotten.

Though a regent may lose his way,
two can guide one another.
A caravan of three kings is not easily distracted.

Though a child may feel alone,
two will laugh with mischief.
A gang of three children is not quickly bored.

Though one musketeer may fall,
two can stand together.
A band of three inseparables is not easily defeated.

Though one disciple may tire,
two can support one another.
A prayer triplet is not quickly discouraged.
Ecclesiastes 4 - worth a read.  It's about collaboration and team work.
Steve Page May 2023
Thresholds are good
and necessary
Setting a boundary
Not too low
Not too high
Just the right level - enough
to warn me
to give me pause
to prompt questions
to seek answers
before I step forward
instead of bowling past,
passing through, regardless

Pain thresholds are good
and necessary
Setting a boundary
Too high and you'll burn, oblivious
Too low and you'll freeze
in place, never crossing over
into fuller life

Thresholds are good
A friends has a kid with a dangerously high pain threshold.  He doesn't cry, but gets hurt a lot.
Steve Page Dec 2020
A weary world, a muted cry
uncertain plans and pleas denied

But then a star, unearthly bright
a glimpse of dawn, a new-found light

The thrill of hope, a hope of promise
Behold the birth of joy and solace

The birth of love, the gift of life
Behold a child, a born delight.

The world in need calls out once more
prayers for relief, pleas for a cure

And then he comes, the world rejoices
Emmanuel, we raise our voices

His people stand, as one we sing
to our Messiah, our Saviour King.
For Christmas
Steve Page Jun 2018
Stilling on a train
Balanced on the lines
Bleeding from the thoughts
Racing through my mind

Bracing both my feet
Ready for the end
Steeling for the crash
Coming round the bend

Feeling like I've lived
Enough for both our worlds
Turning the last page
Loving every word
Reading novels and travelling by train are part of life in London.
Steve Page Oct 2019
"Listen!
I'm neither - not either!

"Not left, not right
Not black, not white

"Not red, not blue
Not the many, nor the few

"No, neither you
nor any other political tribe
will bribe my alliegence.
No one can expect
my adherence or compliant silence!

"I've no tribe but kin
and my kin can come in any skin
and will come and go again
this close to the rim.

"So, no -
I'll not promise to sing
from only one sheet of hymns.
I'll not sign up to this week's
with-the-tide swim.

"You can't assign me
based on a tick-box whim.
I'm no man's synonym.
I'm no easy pseudonym.

"My vote has never been
and never will be
ANYBODY'S easy win."

She stood at the door poised with her pen.
'Okaay... Is that an 'Undecided' then?'
Theres a lot of strong feelings out there.
Steve Page May 2020
What will the tide bring in?
What will it later reveal?
Like time,
        it won't keep waiting.
Like love,
        it can't help but heal.
My boss uses a vivid phrase: it's only when the tide goes out, you see who's not wearing trunks.
Makes you think.
Steve Page Jun 12
Sometimes
it's about pushing through.

But more often
it's more about
timing the next turn

or taking the next bend

with a tight grip
against the rain.
Life's lessons.
Steve Page Jan 2018
You don't have much time.
No one does.
Time has never been
willing to be had,
to be spent,
- squandered.

It is
and it was
and it will fully be.
While it is the dance of your heart
that is finite.
It is your breath that will one day
be spent.
And you will discover
the depth of your squander,
the extent of your last deficit,
while time will continue on
to its appointed complicity
with eternity.
And in that apt company
time will run
at the speed of the last light,
remaining exempt
from any desperate attempt
to hold it in check.

But in your allotted splinter of time
relish its flight
and the oh so magnificent sights
that life hands you
for simple delights.
And rather than raging
against the inevitable last night
you might find at last
it's alright
to let the last grains
trickle through
with a life-long, contented sigh
having found time
for each gifted
timely good-night.
Don't fret.  Enjoy what you've got.
Steve Page Mar 2020
You won't find me
in those new-fangled machines.

You don't know when you'll end up.

I'll just wait here and see you later.
For a poetry group asking for poetry on the theme of travel
Steve Page Feb 2022
Today will depart on cue
Tomorrow will arrive on time
Let's get this straight -
the future won't wait
for the perfect rhythm or rhyme
Timing is everything.   But it's not always within our control.
Steve Page Oct 2021
we don't get
that many things
to really care about

Maybe 3
Maybe 4
Maybe less

You made the right choice

there's nothing here
there's really nothing here

and that's pretty much it
Prompted by a movie, Pig.
Steve Page Jul 2016
There're swords,
lots of them,
and long-bows,
with fresh, eager arrows
jostle with notched expert axes;

legendary hair frame braided beards
flowing into refilled tankards
drowning curses through broken teeth
gnawing at poor personal hygiene
across the stench of the public tavern
as granite-stares challenge
bone-shattering laughter.
-
All as anticipated -
there's Orcs about
and the prescribed heroes assemble.
-
-
Slow rolling leaden mist cloaks howling creatures at dawn
from deep within the forest,
then disabling rain falls at dusk
and steel clashes with steel in the storm…
-
All these exploits ferment short of full strength
and stretch onto a wide Winter screen
before facing the final critical battle
for a 12A Christmas.
Inspired by Peter Jackson
Steve Page Sep 4
Learn from our Mother Tongues
Dance to our Sister Tongues
Laugh with our Daughter Tongues
and look to our yet-to-comes
We owe so much to those who came before, but we also depend on our own generation and have the pleasure of being present for the next.
Steve Page Jan 2023
When I pray, I say too much
and he forgives so much
as his restoring touch
seeps marrow deep
lifting my sorrow
inviting me to rest a while
on both knees
Prayer is good for you
Steve Page Nov 15
The curse of incuriousity
is accusation
that you lack care,
that you fear answers,
that you seek quiet
in place of truth.

Flee incuriousity,
pursue truth
no matter how well hidden,
how well disguised,
how painful to hold.

Embrace it
and save yourself.
To Justin Welby.
Steve Page Mar 2022
You complete me
in every sound you now mouth,
every movement of your tongue,
every muscle’s adjustment
to effect fresh shape to each phrase,
in every quick, shallow breath
giving sudden pause and turn
to the next silence.

You complete me at this reading.
I had been deaf to the closing,
blind to the ending you now gift me
and ignorant of the next stair
with no balustrade to steady
where you leave the first me
to rise to find, first-hand,
the landing that now completes me.
triggered by Walt Whitman's 'To You'.
"...now I place my hand upon you, that you be my poem..."
Steve Page May 2017
A li'l touch'll do ya
A li'l be 'nough
Ya just need a li'l touch
To get ya thru the rough

A li'l touch'll do ya
A li'l'll see ya thru
One li'l brush and touch
Will make ya feel like new

A li'l touch'll do ya
'Though He'll give ya so much more
He'll wrap His arms 'round ya
Til ya can't take any more
He'll stay by ya whatever
He'll stick with ya like glue
His touch will stay on with you
Yes He's truely tried and true.
Jesus was tactile.
Matthew 8:3
3 Jesus reached out his hand and touched the man. “I am willing,” he said. “Be clean!” Immediately he was cleansed of his leprosy.
Matthew 8:15, 9.21, 9:29, 14:36, 17:7, 20:34.
Steve Page Mar 2020
Fluffy ain't easy
Fluffy ain't weak
Fluffy is tough
a close-knit physique
Just saw a story of a sheep who got lost in the wild.  After 6 years, growing 60 pounds of wool, it had seen off wolf attacks by having a too impenetrable wool coating.  Great design.
Steve Page Sep 2018
Heart
Diamond
Clubbed
*****
One of my minimalistic stories
Steve Page Sep 8
Decision to leave
Permission to enter
Right to remain
Hope for peace
I see the courage that folk need, the risks they need to take for the sake of their family.
Steve Page Sep 2016
I've missed the late train of thought to catch the long haul flight of fancy on the first leg of my voyage of discovery.

I'm running wild on a walkabout seeking adventures abroad without a reliable plot vehicle.

I've worn through my home truths and need to leave to be able to return my gaze with fresh lenses and a new perspective on my soles.

But right now you'll find me left on the platform of potential motion.
Sometimes you just can't get going.
Steve Page Dec 2019
Time here is treacle -

it's thick and syrupy, a rich golden glow that envelopes the spoon while flowing over the edges inevitably leaving a trail / a thread if you will, that will never be chased down or scooped up without leaving a sticky sweet trace that will last days before it fully fades to a savoured memory.

Time here is golden treacle.
Went on a poets retreat.  Golden.
Steve Page Sep 2017
Broad eyebrows,
porcelain foundation,
pursed lips,
distain flying from painted digits,
resenting the imposed ****** proximity.

Then her eyes met her twin's
and both faces cracked wide in smiles and laughter,
her pose was momentarily forgotten,
as she was reunited once more with her tribe.
Adventures on a train.
Steve Page Oct 2021
Triumph with diversity.
Not knee deep in
Not wading
despite the extra gravity.
But with - taking it with me
on my journey making me
who I am building, i.e.
a stronger, fuller me
triumphing in the company
of those who walk ahead of me
who know what it will take me
to more fully glory
in my whole me.
Come with me.
Let's triumph with diversity.
Nicked the first line from a radio.
Steve Page Mar 26
May you find a true friend when walking alone
May you find someone there to embrace
May you find deeper joy than you've tasted before
May you offer more love than you've faced

May you dampen your haste to self criticise
May you find the off-switch to self-doubt
May you recognise when you're just talking *****
and tell all your demons to get out

May you give more time for self celebration
May you find more inside to love
May you recognise more of your God-given beauty
and see gifts to be truly proud of

When you don't echo lies you're hearing from others
When you speak more of truth instead
That's when you begin to live life again
and you're ready to enjoy what's ahead.
Lessons from therapy
Steve Page May 2020
Fruit goes off.
It gets mushy and smelly,
losing its colour and beauty - losing its taste,
eventually drying out,
losing all resemblance of what it once was,
only good for waste.

But fruit nurtured by a master grower,
a seasoned gardener,
fruit watched and watered til ripe and at its peak,
this fruit is harvested, fermented,
blended til building to a fuller physique,
brought to full maturity til ready for the table
and the banquet where no one's poor
and no-one is able to maintain a semblance of meek.

- where the gardener and the wine maker,
sit at the top seats smiling their blessing.
And the table branches out
giving room enough for the whole family gathering.

And the feast to end all feasts begins.
John 15 - I am the true vine.  Galatians 5 - The fruit of the Spirit.  A mash up.
Steve Page Jun 2019
When is a fleeting stray thought
a senseless fool's distraction?
And when is my sudden idea
a true sage-like inspiration?
No weight of long experience
No number of tried and tested
No diet of **** it and sees
seem to give me true wisdom.
Inspiration seems a bit of a lottery.
Steve Page May 2017
Greater trusting
With more heart
Lesser leaning
On your own smarts
More recognition
At each intersection
That you can rely
On the map maker's direction
Proverbs 3:5-6
Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight.
Steve Page May 2020
Truth twisted or truth told?
Collusion or collaboration?
Who can tell what lies beneath:
Politician or statesman?
We need statesmen (women)
Steve Page Jul 2020
Turn the mirror off
Turn the clock down
Turn the sun to night mode
Turn the world back to when I was young
prompted by Mirror by Jacob Polley
Steve Page May 2019
It's in the sequence
within the space
on the slow turn
at the touch of the page

it's more than the optic
less than didactic
much more tactile,
less than merely mercantile

it's more immersive,
deeply collaborative
a match that's unconventional
beyond art, words and materials

avoiding any deference,
embracing our difference
flicking 2 fingers
without fear of irreverence

it's greater than the sum
of its many surprising parts
more than what was found in
the inspirational, original art

and whether it's deliberate
or accidently incidental
these are books as art,
beyond the coffee table
From a festival turnthepage.org.uk looking at books as pieces of art
Steve Page Sep 2023
I envy the equine fly twitch,
the contraction of muscle, the shudder
triggered by the fly’s tickle -
the irritation dispelled in a moment.
I envy that gift to dismiss the torment,
as I sit through another pointless argument.
I never knew that was what this is was called: a fly twitch.  I'd seen it many times and wondered at the ability shudder on comamnd.
Steve Page Mar 2023
Two words that are joy and salve to my soul
That have my full attention at their mere mention
Two words that together complete one another:
Deadline
Extension.
Steve Page Nov 2017
Uncle Christmas
was mucking out
happily mucking in
and wondering
what might have been
had his twin not been sneakier
and the first to emerge
to claim the Father moniker.

Uncle found to his surprise
he was quite content to be
the deputy
and not have the pressure
at the top of the Christmas hierarchy.

Rather he was happier
working with the reindeer,
being grubbier, a little smellier,
leaving his brother
to bear the mantle that was heavier.
However at each and every Christmas dinner
when the family all got together 
Uncle still insisted with a jocular grin
that compared to his twin
he was far better looking
and definitely
relatively
slim.
Imagined family relations at the North Pole.
Steve Page Nov 2018
Uncle Christmas was mucking out happily mucking in and wondering what might have been had his twin not been sneakier and the first to emerge to claim the 'Father' moniker. 

Uncle found to his surprise he was quite content to be the deputy and not have the pressure at the top of the Christmas hierarchy. Rather he was happier working with the reindeer, being grubbier, a little smellier, leaving his brother to bear the fur lined mantle that was heavier.

However,
at each and every Christmas dinner when the family all got together to enjoy the post-advent breather, Uncle would still insist with his Christmas pudding grin that compared to his older twin he was far harder working,
a little better looking 
and definitely 
relatively 
slim.
Based on a passing poster promoting a web site Uncle Christmas
Steve Page May 2022
He's my Uncle Steve -
he rhymes with make believe.

I never see him, but I believe he's there,
sitting near with his low hum,
refraining from making a show,
rather staying below, but making enough for me
to know - comfort, making me safe,
making the difference between sleep and awake,
between making zeds and making a peep,
making space for me
to make myself at home,
snuggled deep, quietly full of the stuff
that makes great mischief.

And when I awake I know he's gone,
taking his low hum back to where he came from.

He's my Uncle Steve -
he rhymes with make believe
and he'll make a return when I need him.
I baby sit.  Sometimes I wonder if they even know I'm there
Steve Page Feb 2023
I don’t know if you know this,
but I'm a tolerant non-conformist.
I know it's easy to have missed this,
but I've found it essential to co-exist
on an island as small as this,
in a city as full as this,
and that if I want to both resist conformity
and live with a degree of grace-ful harmony
I must persist in my pursuit of resistance
against an unnecessary distance
between me and those who live with difference.

And the more I live my difference
I find that non-conformity
doesn't necessitate exclusivity
and needn't be an excuse
for a self-righteous harsh disharmony.
And instead I'll walk with those most unlike me
to find and celebrate the common thread
of our mutual uncommon humanity.
Prompted by something I heard from Trevor Phillips on BBC radio 4.
Steve Page Jan 2023
There's moments
when you're at your most vulnerable,
when you're lost
in a moment of release.

Like when you sneeze

- especially when you let go
three times in quick succession
in a fit of complete defenseless-ness.

If your friend is subject
to a sneeze attack
watch their back

(and that way
you're out of their line of fire).
Steve Page Aug 2016
His stillent, smally whispers ooze into my mindconscious like a dusk-sweet hotchoc,
like a mocha sunrise welcoming wide with embracements louder than fearage, not instructioning, but come in mending,
pushing enlightenmentations, praisements and incouragabilities that I inseep onto my naked black and bruises. 
I tremble-wrap his echo within my born-worn soul but he stainleaks through my weak cardio when I bumpbrush against heartbeatings as fraggi-brittle as mine also.
His hushed shade cools and breaths an enveloping:
"I understand."
And so I restilax in his softly stronging arms.
Sometimes we know we're not making any sense, we just need someone to understand.
Steve Page Jan 2017
His still, small whispers melt into my mind
Like hot chocolate at dusk
Like a welcoming morning mocha aroma,
With an embrace louder than dawning fears;

Not demanding, but offering healing,
Inspiring and revealing -
Like a balm to my bruises
Like a brace to my body.

And so trembling, I wrap the echo of his words
Around my weary soul
But my weak heart
Cannot hold his words
As I bump and brush
Against other fragile hearts.

But still I sit in his serene shade
And he breaths these enveloping words:
"I understand."
And so I rest in his soft strong arms.
Being understood is like a hug for the mind
Steve Page Nov 2017
Simple isn't the same as easy.

Waiting isn't the same as staying
 awake
Hearing isn't the same as heeding
 commands
Walking isn't the same as staying
 dry
Shooting isn't the same as hitting
 your target
Advancing and isn't the same as dodging
 the bullets
Fighting isn't the same as killing
 men.

Simple isn't the same as easy.
Living isn't the same as living
 with your memories.
Dog, Easy, Fox;
an uneasy company of brothers.
Thoughts on battle and brothers.  
This was prompted by a combination of things: the movie Dunkirk; an interview with a WWII veteran on the fiction of the band of brothers mythology (i.e. they were too **** scared to think if anything but getting home in one piece); and a novel 'Old Man's War's' a science fiction novel by John Scalzi which tells the story of new recruits in an interstellar war in which the recruits are 75+ with minds downloaded into a 20-something version of themselves.  War is seldom glorious and takes a heavy toll on the conscripts.  Stories of  Easy Company exploits in WWII are well documented. Dog and Fox Companies were there too.
Dog, Easy, Fox are part of the US phonetic spelling alphabet used during WWII.
Steve Page Aug 2017
("Art is never finished, only abandoned" - quote attributed to Leonardo da Vinci.)

I'm not finished yet!
I'm nowhere near complete
You know I'm not yet done
You know I'm not replete

So now's the perfect time
To pause and let me go
Time to pack away
Take that towel and throw

Put me in the drawer
Stand up and walk away
Go and fill the kettle
Or try that new cafe

Come back some time later
Then look at me afresh
Maybe ask your closest friend
To suggest some more or less

Once you've looked at me again
You may be surprised to find
You're not quite satisfied
And can't get peace of mind

I'm art, I'm not a race
There is no finish line
So please don't over-work me
I'm unfinished by design
Dylan Thomas said he was tempted to rework his poems years after they were published. Lesson learned.
Steve Page Sep 2021
I need a freedom from cynicism
from male chauvinism
embracing a softer masculine
an absence of sexism
and an embrace of a different manly-ism
one seen through a more unmanly prism
a less than bearing the whole weight of the family
and more like living as a 'we' community
not necessarily a man that's handy
but one who is able to more gently
lead by an example that's differently
fully
compassionately,
unmanfully
me.
A different way.
Steve Page Apr 2020
and God is just as God-like,
(what I mean is, just as heavenly-fatherly)
in a pandemic.
Though you do tend to hear Him through a different filter –
and not one of His making.

A filter of a thicker thread.

And, whilst you do need to listen more carefully
(and take more time I find),
He speaks and listens just as intently
and it is unmistakably His voice.

However, I find that I throw more at Him
at times such as this.
Prayer life is different now
Steve Page Jan 2020
I write for the unreliable reader, the one who reads what they want, whether they want and how they want
- not reliably reading though my eyes and carefully abiding with my well placed breaks in line, my enjambments, separation of themes into stanzas or even a subtle semicolon.

I write for you and entrust to you
my heartache, my headaches
my angst, my joy
my mess ups, my bust ups
my skewed views, my hard pews
my shouts, my sullen frowns
my walks, my sleep
my songs, my guffaws
my control, my dance
my destruction, my elevation
my blame, my late claims
my relish, my shame
my togetherness, my brokenness
my sleep-kicks, my daybreak
my jealousy, my generosity
my rewinds, my reruns
my hospital runs, my mother's hands
my triggers, my pretence
my pride, my bullies
my children, my memories
my past, my now
my decisions, my abdications
my loss, my child
my teen, my adult
my space, my confinement
my health, my ailment
my green, my red
my therapy, my surgery
my war, my peace
my time, my eternity
my kindness, my hate
my tea, my cider
my queuing, my waiting
my coming, my leaving
my life, my death
my ever after
- these are yours.
Just turn the page
having to let go and trust the reader.
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