Steve Howard

Steve Howard Poems


Comes the morning, thrush will call,
from brambled hedge, or garden wall.
Sing he must, and sing he will,
though even to a silent hill.

Leave back, leave back,
the meadow land,
where flowers come to grow.
To look upon a darker place,

My heart has made a garden,
where the thorn falls away from the rose.
Where every flower has your face,
the only flower that grows.

The Whimsicle pickle,
was out for a stroll,
when he spied a fresh egg,
who was out for a roll.

Off to the museum of art we go,
with she in front and me in tow.
Absorb some culture, see the show!
She stands before some framed mish mash,

I think upon my now ex wife,
who was to me all joy in life.
Still her precious voice I hear,
"Would you like some coffee dear? ".

If I must steer this ship alone,
the sea uncharted, ports unknown,
with no lighthouse on the headland,
to mark a dark unfriendly shore,


There comes a time;
when the walls fall down.
We see age in the eyes of our friends.
We smile.

Her name was Jenny Pickles,
and in the days of innocence,
she'd share her jelly sammiches,
and kiss me through the fence.

Should tomorrow come,
come yea or nay,
I do not know, I cannot say.
That promise is not given,


I woke up this morning in Oz,
the Munchkins embroiled in a cause.
They cried, "All the people are free,
Except those who do not agree.

They cried, "You're covered with scars,
you poor pitiful thing.
What heartache and misery the memories must bring."
I said, "They're only just scars.

My common sense is drifting,
on a sea that has no shore.
And since I've never been there,
I don't go much anymore.

When I feel a tad neglected,
as the unappreciated will,
I remind myself that I am me,
and give myself a thrill.

Hurry hurry little child,
Summer's on it's way.
Through the tattered gown of April,
shows the brighter cloth of May.

My teeth sleep in a water glass,
my hair is falling out,
I have an everlasting hemorrhoid,
the shingles and the gout.

Send for me no flowers.
No flowers send for me.
Plant a lovely primrose.
Perhaps in fall a willow tree.

Steve Howard Biography

Born in North Carolina, spending his early years in the Appalachian mountains. There weaned on bluegrass and gospel music, and listening to the tales and stories of the misty highlands. Now retired, he spends as much time as possible in the woodlands and on the sweet rivers of his adopted home of northwest Florida.)

The Best Poem Of Steve Howard

Haiku 2

I gave her flowers
Her smile among the roses
Two bouquets I see

Steve Howard Comments

Rafik Rom 31 January 2020

Hi my friend. How could you be able toread my poems here

1 0 Reply

Steve Howard Quotes

True friends still come to the show when you no longer can dance.

A poem is a stone, skipped across a lake of song, at last to sink into the heart.

The meadowlark sings anyway. So shall I.

Be it throne or wooden stool, where sits man, there sits a fool.

We're all the same age. Just on different schedules.

Even when it's too wet to plow, you still have to feed the mule.

At times, the truth is a gift with many wrappings.

Some peoples opinions of cats, are not necessarily shared by the sparrow.

When you paint someone into a corner, Don't get mad when they track up the floor.

All are spiritual during the storm.

At times I find myself complaining about the hole in my roof to people standing outside in the rain.

Flatulence ubiquitous, intelligence exiguous.

Time is a thief who steals what he cannot use.

Some peoples thoughts are butterflies that can find no flower.

A gift is not a gift until shared.

Life is but a line from a poem I do not understand.

At times, Not likely! ...means, Of a surety!

The ear sometimes hears the sound. The mind sometimes hears the truth. The heart hears what it will.

Don't sit in the fire, and complain of the heat.

I have heard the fox bark in the hour before dawn. My soul answered.

We speak by listening.

If you are busy doing nothing, nothing is busy doing you.

Smile at your misfortunes. It makes them wonder what you're up to.

One of the greatest gifts, and perhaps curses, is the capability for independent thought. To be a daisy in a field of blue bells.

Be wary of opening a door you cannot afterwards close.

Some never appreciate the beauty of the sky until they fall into a well.

Some never appreciate the beauty of the sky until they fall into a well.

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