Poems by Ann D. Stevenson

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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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- Rating 4.80

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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- Stories 8
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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.

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Spring
- Published: May 5, 2025
A Time Of New Beginnings - A Fresh Start

in Spring Poems

There's a hum from the bees in the air
which stirs up gentle musings in my mind,
scented blossom is making me aware
of certain hidden treasure they may find.

There's a hum from the bees in the air
which stirs up gentle musings in my mind,
scented blossom is making me aware
of certain hidden treasure they may find.

There's a stir in the branches of the trees
it reflects quiet awakenings of my own,
leaves unfurl in a warm and gentle breeze
they stretch out until they become full-blown.

There's music in the garden from the birds,
cheerful sounds that make my spirits glow,
is this a calling that the flowers have heard
a time to bloom, to blossom and to grow.

There's joy in new beginnings, a fresh start,
it grows deep inside and lifts up my heart.
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- Stories 6
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- Votes 8
- Rating 4.38
Featured Shared Story

Oh my goodness, Patricia, you have been busy commenting on my poems lately. So kind and thoughtful - much appreciated. Your good friend, Ann.

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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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- 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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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
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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- Favorited 0
- 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

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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
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- 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

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It's A Dog's Life
- Published: August 12, 2024
Growing Old - Rather Like My Dog

in Pet Friend Poems

My beloved canine friend
life's not how it used to be
you no longer hear my whistle
and just keep on running free.

My beloved canine friend
life's not how it used to be
you no longer hear my whistle
and just keep on running free.

I wave my arms and signal
but you cannot always see
or is it just that you prefer
to please yourself not me.

Your coat's a little shabby
I think you've lost some hair
but with a little grooming
your looks remain quite fair.

Your sense of smell is good
and so is your sense of taste
you sniff out food anywhere
which has increased your waist.

Your bones are not so supple
you struggle with some steps
but when barking at a stranger
you still show lots of pep

As I look into your eyes
which have grown slightly dim
I see the same young puppy
still nestled deep within

You remind me of somebody
I wonder, who can it be
I have a sneaking feeling
that it might in fact be me.
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- Stories 2
- Shares 13
- Favorited 0
- Votes 13
- Rating 4.23
Featured Shared Story

Oh Pat,

You are always so encouraging. Any comments from you mean a great deal, as I have such enormous respect for your poetry. I do hope you are keeping well. It's been such a joy...

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A Lasting Memory
- Published: July 24, 2024
in Falling in Love Poems

It was not the sight of a night sky
bejewelled with numerous stars,
nor the whisperings from the waves.

It was not the sight of a night sky
bejewelled with numerous stars,
nor the whisperings from the waves.

It was the look in his eyes,
taste of salt on his lips,
when I received that first kiss.

It was not the rippled moonlit path
beguiling us into the sea,
nor the glow of a smouldering fire.

It was the warmth of his arms
and his talk that charmed
it was that - that stayed with me.
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- Rating 4.20
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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- Stories 0
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- Votes 9
- Rating 4.11

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