Poems by Ann D. Stevenson

1 - 10 of 26

The End Of The Day
- Published: July 31, 2025
A Memory Of My Husband

in Husband Death Poems

A glass of wine nearby, he sat,
his spaniel beside him on the grass,
he flicked away a solitary wasp,
a buzzard circled overhead.

A glass of wine nearby, he sat,
his spaniel beside him on the grass,
he flicked away a solitary wasp,
a buzzard circled overhead.

He watched both bird and insect
they were clearly to be seen,
unlike the predator within,
which lurked inside his bones.

Relaxed, he drank the wine,
a reminder of foreign climes,
snow slopes skied in Méribel,
boating trips on French canals.

Happy times, now long gone,
wine imbibed, creatures flown,
his empty glass caught the light
before the sun went down.
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- Votes 8
- Rating 4.63
Featured Shared Story

Thank you, John. I am struggling on - quite hard as we were together for well over 50 years. However, kind understanding comments like yours do help.

Touched by the poem? Share your story! (8)

When I Made My Vow
- Published: June 7, 2024
Becoming A Carer To Spouse

in Sickness Poems

'For better for worse'
I did not know
what worse was going to be,
that I would lose

'For better for worse'
I did not know
what worse was going to be,
that I would lose
my own identity.

He too is lost
in muddled mists
of time and mind.

Oh, that the fog would clear
so he could see
the lover that I used to be
before
I became the carer.
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- Votes 9
- Rating 4.11
A Night In The Country
- Published: November 18, 2025
Poem About Noises In The Night

in Beauty of Nature Poems

I hear a muffled creak,
is that those old oak floors?

I see some dancing shadows,

I hear a muffled creak,
is that those old oak floors?

I see some dancing shadows,
ghostly flickerings on the walls.

Then there is a tapping noise,
rattling the window pane.

Next there is a dripping sound,
I hope that's just the rain!

I'm startled by a piercing shriek,
perhaps it is an owl?

A bit of peace, then I hear
a creature start to howl.

Now there is a scuffling noise,
up above my head.

Rustling, seems quite close
right now - is it on my bed?

Uncanny sounds unnerving me,
I really feel uptight.

I can't sleep now, I'm wide awake,
I'll just switch on the light.
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- Votes 9
- Rating 4.22
Featured Shared Story

Thank you - it is always so rewarding to receive pleasant comments.

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The Clocks Have All Stopped
- Published: October 25, 2024
How Life Changes After A Loved One Dies

in Husband Death Poems

(He used to wind them
once a week.)

A dark oak clock

(He used to wind them
once a week.)

A dark oak clock
on the mantlepiece
stands bleak
above an empty grate
once a source
of warmth and light.

There is a slight glow
from the clock
on his desk
made of gilded brass
a farewell gift
from his final post.

The grandfather clock
a valued antique
stands silent in the hall
no further chimes
no pendulum swings
hands don't move any more.

The only sound left
is the faintest tick
from a well-worn watch
with its military band
a familiar fixture on his wrist
I now hold it in my hand.
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- Stories 6
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- Votes 16
- Rating 4.00
Featured Shared Story

Patricia, You are indeed a friend - a very good friend indeed. Thank you for always being there for me. Love and very best wishes, Ann

Touched by the poem? Share your story! (6)

Remembrance
- Published: November 5, 2024
Remembering Those Who Have Fought And Died

in War Poems

(The book I've been reading rests on my knee,
you sleep.) (Wendy Cope)

I am trying to read, I cannot sleep,

(The book I've been reading rests on my knee,
you sleep.) (Wendy Cope)

I am trying to read, I cannot sleep,
remembering.
I want to hold you close, when you keep
remembering.
You sleep now in the lamp's soft glow.

You woke me earlier shouting 'no',
remembering
that bomb going off, a lethal mine,
remembering
splattered bodies, shattered minds.

Men blown to bits before your eyes,
remembering
that was how your best friend died,
remembering
how you fought so hard for peace.

Some of us will never cease
remembering.
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- Votes 10
- Rating 4.60
A Specular Christmas
- Published: December 8, 2025
Preparing For Christmas

in Christmas Poems

My tasks for Christmas have begun
once the mistletoe's been hung.

Wrapped up presents under the tree,

My tasks for Christmas have begun
once the mistletoe's been hung.

Wrapped up presents under the tree,
hopefully opened up with glee.

A Christmas pudd and Christmas cake
amongst the other goodies I've baked.

The turkey stuffed, ready to cook,
from much loved recipes in my book.

Table laid, plus crackers and games,
to keep it all fun, that's the aim.

But, oh it's such hard work for me.
It really is hard work for me.

To keep it all fun. That's the aim,
table laid, plus crackers and games.

From much loved recipes in my book,
the turkey's stuffed, ready to cook.

Amongst other goodies, I've baked
a Christmas pudd and Christmas cake.

Hopefully opened up with glee,
wrapped up presents under the tree.

Once the mistletoe's been hung
my tasks for Christmas have begun.
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- Stories 3
- Shares 5
- Favorited 0
- Votes 6
- Rating 4.33
Featured Shared Story

Another lovely poem, Ann. Best wishes, John Alexander.

Touched by the poem? Share your story! (3)
Oh To Be Like My Flowering Cherry Tree
- Published: March 10, 2026
Natural Beauty

in Beauty of Nature Poems

In Spring she blossoms forth,
no concerns of what to wear,
festooned in flowered finery.

In Spring she blossoms forth,
no concerns of what to wear,
festooned in flowered finery.

Dressed in green all summer long,
looked upon as cool and calm,
she casts others in the shade.

Come the fall she has a ball
in multicoloured frippery,
she happily strips, bit by bit.

Her limbs may glisten in the cold,
bejeweled in frosted crystals,
or shining bright in softest white.

She stands proud when naked,
no shame in an aging frame,
clothed or unclothed beauty reigns.
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- Favorited 1
- Votes 5
- Rating 4.40
I Walk Alone
- Published: February 25, 2025
Learning To Live Without My Love

in Husband Death Poems

A shadow walks beside me
in the rising rays
of the sun
I turn a corner

A shadow walks beside me
in the rising rays
of the sun
I turn a corner
the shadow has gone
I walk on
alone.

Up in the hills
on a well-worn track
I see mists begin to lift
from calm seas
and beloved shores
we had known
before.

I breathe in aromas
of healing herbs
as they waft
and linger on
a reminder of how
his scent remained
long after he had gone.

I feel the warmth
of familiar paths
chirrups of crickets
begin to rise
a butterfly emerges
into the light
spreads its wings
and flies.
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- Stories 5
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- Favorited 0
- Votes 14
- Rating 4.00
Featured Shared Story

I firmly believe that our passed loved ones are all around us all the time. All we have to do is look around us, at nature, movies, poems, even in our dreams. I am certain that your husband...

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A Very Modern Cinderella (who Still Meets Her Prince)
- Published: January 27, 2026
in Humorous Poems

No, no, no - I feel really low
I don't want to go to the ball.

My hair is a mess - I can't find a dress

No, no, no - I feel really low
I don't want to go to the ball.

My hair is a mess - I can't find a dress
I don't want to go to the ball.

OK then I'll come - it won't be much fun
but to please you I'll go to the ball.

The food's not too bad - I don't feel so sad
that I gave in and came to the ball.

And there's an old chum - who thinks it's quite fun
to meet up with friends at the ball.

She wants me to meet - an old friend called Pete
who watched me arrive at the ball.

I look hard at Pete - my heart jumps a beat
I'm so glad I came to the ball.

Pete's really divine - one day he'll be mine
I hope you'll all come to the ball.
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- Votes 6
- Rating 3.83
She Tried To Fit In
- Published: September 8, 2024
Moving Into A Nursing Home

in Aging Poems

To find room
for her flannel nighties,
a well-worn woollen dressing gown,
her furry slippers

To find room
for her flannel nighties,
a well-worn woollen dressing gown,
her furry slippers
and a few day clothes too.

A much loved book by Agatha Christie,
only one, although
she owned a whole collection,
and a china duck, small, lifelike,
from another collection.

Three photos,
the son who was lost at sea,
her daughter carried away by cancer
and a small picture of her husband
to put beside her single bed.

She brought memories,
muddled up memories,
memories of old songs
she loved to sing,
but sometimes she didn't want to join in.

Sometimes she didn't want to get up,
to be washed, to be dressed,
to mix with others,
sometimes she wanted to go home,
back where she belonged.
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- Stories 7
- Shares 9
- Favorited 0
- Votes 17
- Rating 4.12
Featured Shared Story

Peggy,

I wondered if you write poetry yourself. I don't seem to be able to find any of your work online...

Very best wishes,

Ann

Touched by the poem? Share your story! (7)

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