Alexander Steen Stewart
Biography of Alexander Steen Stewart
Not terribly much to say to be prefectly honest, I would say that I have lead a bit of a sheltered life so far. I would say that the poet that inspires me most and has the greatest influence when I write would be John Donne, as I also feel very much lured to the perfect spiritual love which Donne often alludes to in his work.
I generally find I'm disappointed with the reality of life as it can never really match up with the idealised perfection of the imagination.
Alexander Steen Stewart Poems
Love Or Lust
A love so secret, veiled and dark, Hidden deep within my heart. Yet I think I may be wrong About my heart, my love, my song;
The Beauty Of Dreams
If ever I saw your face without fear, It was always with eyes of sleep. For in the world of dreams to you I'm dear, With feeling oh so deep.
The Dual Kingdom
The double sky we live below, Is ruled in equal parts; Two thrones, two kings, each sky aglow, But which one rules our hearts?
A heart once broken leads one's eyes to roam, Just as mine did one Winter day, My youth ravished eyes swept the room, And saw her standing, a beautiful cliché;
Your love is like forbidden fruit Never to own, my love's pursuit. With society as my cruel mistress In formality my heart must dress.
Philippe le Bel, the puppet king, Resides within a gilded cage, Only a king upon a stage, With nought but clemency to sing.
The Pretentious Carter
A beautiful day in spring And the carters get on their way To chop and fetch and carry wood As is their job
Choice is the bane of Virtue's existance; Choice can lead the good man astray, But sooner or later that man must pay; If he should choose to dance the Devil's dance.
What is this gauntlet of a man, This state of being I must rise to? I stand before it pale and wan, What, makes a man of me or you?
Vrai Ou Faux
Infinite depths within her eyes Make it hard to tell where truth lies Yet never would I call her insincere Even if she can be a little cavalier
From The Eagle's Eye
The horizon of his mind is dark, Black clouds of thought hang low, When this storm breaks there'll be no ark. She's changed the status quo.
The Swallow Of Youth
One swallow does not a summer make. And so I know I should not take, With hardly even one score years, These trifling, youth-built souvenirs,
Devils In Skirts
Many's the time my honour's been, Dented or otherwise insulted, And though I go to lengths to avoid a scene, That's often how it's resulted.
Eternal night, an endless flight Forever from your arms But when you're standing near, in sight I long for your sweet charms
Philippe le Bel, the puppet king,
Resides within a gilded cage,
Only a king upon a stage,
With nought but clemency to sing.
To the servent of the servents of God,
Philippe is made a slave,
But does he want someone to save
His bloodied soul for almighty God?