by Steve Tanham
Part one: eternal stone A canvas on which the far future writes. Part two: life abundant, free divergence. Part three: Fragment of a moment in which intelligence passed this way, a quarter-second behind reality. ©️Stephen Tanham, 2025
+ #Poetry
by Steve Tanham
In a fading sway of notes rehearsed The music stills like clouds dispersed. From the empty grass the subtle hiss Of a gentle breeze with a greener kiss Accompanies those whose hearts contain What happened here… ———- No finer hour – nostalgia ‘brassed’ so well That warmed the hearts of those who smiled Young and not so… Dwellers now, in later years, and by … Read More After the band has gone
by Steve Tanham
What secret value do I hold That this – with dying seconds – Bestows its once-glory on my eyes And now on yours…? —- What is this act of seeing That knits the view and viewer new In such a way and with such love They were not ever two but twin? —- And yet… —- And yet kaleidoscope of ‘it’ Mocks egoscope of … Read More The Afterwhere
by Steve Tanham
With labyrinthine grace Not lacking pace The human mind: The snake devourer of the here Makes shapes of what it likes And doesn’t… —- The sum a palette: A well-stuffed wallet ‘Embrace, avoid or pass’ The money says As hissing head explores in dread A painting made by self In which its power of choice Is just a word… — Come heart and flower … Read More With Labyrinthine Grace
by Steve Tanham
St Peter Parasol With higher vision Perceives the Earth rotating Round and around The endless quest for truth In human mind revolves Crucified by greed And children’s slaughter His gaze seeks out The pretenders… That they, one day, Might know themselves In heart and share The tears… ©️Stephen Tanham 2025
by Steve Tanham
Beyond the Hawthorne Skies of blue Trick eye to thinking Summer’s due Not yet! The mind Replies, as frozen fingers May betray Spring’s breeze for Deeper pockets’ warmth. ©️Stephen Tanham 2025
by Steve Tanham
Above the folded, faded parasols Long-closed as dripping bathers left To lave and lather sun-screen From bodies exhausted with indolence. Abandoned paperbacks part-read discarded, folded with sticky fingers in pages marked for tomorrow… Point, mute, at the sky. +++ Where +++ Patterns like wild beasts’ pelts stretch From Africa to seas once crossed by Portuguese navigators whose outer space Was ocean, vast, un-mapped and … Read More Virgin sky
+ #Poetry, Photography, Poetry
by Steve Tanham
No sooner bloomed than fallen The soft and playful petals Lie contrast, on the charcoal stone Premature to human eye A zenith passed too soon For mind of man seeks solace In what endures in form the most But nature’s love can last a single Beat of yellow heart upturned Then, like the memory of fine wine Enjoyed with friends of heart And eyes … Read More No sooner bloomed than fallen
by Steve Tanham
When the settee to the phone Is half-hearted … and alone And you ring it back, but only in your mind —- If you sit and hold the minute And the people who aren’t in it And wonder how to harvest Passing time —- Does a ghostly alter-presence Steal your silenced effervescence And delightfully rehearsed Excuse or ten? —- When your eyes refuse to … Read More The Moment
by Steve Tanham
Dragged, sodden. Dumped in Wet and cold moraines Of winter’s angry passing Last vestiges of icy daggers Point to spring with Slowly dripping teeth Fading with a promise to return Daring us to rise from mud And wash … and shine With the faithful daffodils. ©Stephen Tanham 2024 All photos taken and processed on an iPhone 12 ProMax. Stephen Tanham is a writer-photographer and … Read More Melting daggers
by Steve Tanham
📩 110 words, Poetry, a two-minute read Within the evening’s petals shone, Like breath for eyes emerged from night, A brighter hue of rays to come A soft caress, like parted lovers write Way-stations of the coming sun All held within the form and fold Of snowdrops growing pearls within the night. ©Stephen Tanham 2024 All photos taken and processed on an iPhone 12 … Read More Twilight’s Pallette
by Steve Tanham
Stark, naked, the long cold night of winter Draws my will to live in shapes Whose beauty lies in number, Unseen to hands that touch My rough and dusty bark… ———- The limit of life is my companion As pale sun begins to feed Across the stellar miles And seeks – within the rough And blackened frame – The tiny hiss of sap. ———- … Read More Long naked division
Sun in Gemini 
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