Still Here

Busy time of year… harvesting from the gardens, canning, freezing, waterproofing one cabin, winterizing two cabins, stacking firewood.  Hope to be back to writing poetry soon.  All I have time for now is to edit and post short stories I wrote over the past many months.  You can see them by clicking on Steve Hall’s Tidbits below the header, or visiting


In Other Words

In other words…

We have traveled many roads together
a roadmap of our design tracing earth’s curves
as I trace hers with my touch
along the way picking up parcels of life…
reminders of where we have been, things we have done
and as I reflect
I recall mountains climbed and colors seen
our life taking on the wondrous landscape

With every touch she brings me further back to life
and like the great oak I find
my love for her anchors more deeply…
we are one…
time apart passes like cold molasses through an hour glass as
anticipation grows for our reunion
rituals we have made
sharing ourselves and our time
port shared mouth to mouth, sleeping skin to skin…
she is now a part of me
her voice, her presence, her touch
my salvation
as thoughts of her turn to smiles
and I realize my dreams are a reflection of my life
a life made better.

My cup of life always full
warmth, happiness, comfort, pleasure, love
my life now complete
a long road traveled with many stops along the way
we have walked many miles together
and when we can walk no more
we will sit, and marvel at all we have done…
the autumn of our lives
rich with color.


I wake to see
a peaceful face
surrounded by comforters
in a heavy sleep
and I am happy.

Minutes pass
and I am still watching;
and like the morning sunrise
her peacefulness spreads to me
and brings me warmth.

As if a master’s painting
I cannot look away
and smile as I take in
the beauty of her face…
a masterpiece.

She wakes
and this picture fills with life.
I relish in the thought
that I will be with her this day;
an angel watches over me.

As the day draws to a close
remembering all we have done
I smile again,
and think, what a lucky man
who this woman would have.

Life in Black and White

So many meanings does this have
of people’s color, of right and wrong…
so set are we, we cannot see
past the surface of things
missing so much

Rose colored glasses add only illusion
a disguise for how we perceive
as we fool only ourselves;
cast in concrete our beliefs
all that could be escapes us

Easels offer what could be…
a sample of what is
if we would only acknowledge
there is more than status quo
a rainbow awaits us.

They Call This Life

cloud clear thought
better days remembered as
today weighs heavily on our backs

Simplicity gone
common sense erased
as nothing new makes sense
we lie at the bottom
of the hill of muck
unable to make progress
the few determined pulled back
for no one wants to wallow
in the pigsty alone

The new philosophy…
let the few keep the many down
that they have all
and the rest have nothing
to squabble over.

Listen to the Lion

Unlike a pack of wolves…
a long hard winter behind them
they hunt for any free scrap
taking from wherever they can
for they know not of ownership.

Like the bear and the monkey
taught to take handouts
feeding on the poison offered
they have forgotten how to feed themselves
forgotten… the ways of hunting and cooperation
their world out of balance.

Now lazy and lackadaisical
they eke out an existence
bare minimums met, the
smell of impending death
permeates their dens, leaking out
into the surrounding air
telling all others of their plight…

There is nothing left…
all has been taken and consumed
yet knowing offspring have no chance
litters are dropped at increasing rates
and the lion lauds the animal-welfare state.