Poems by Ann D. Stevenson

1 - 10 of 22

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 7
- Rating 4.86
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Virginia, I was incredibly touched by your comments. It's so special when someone really appreciates what the death of a husband of nearly 60 years means. Thank you from the bottom of my...

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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 4
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- Votes 8
- Rating 4.38
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Thank you - it's always so rewarding to receive friendly encouraging comments like yours. Very best wishes, 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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- Stories 4
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- Votes 14
- Rating 4.00
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Hi Ann, like you I also lost my soulmate, I still feel her presence today, I do believe they are looking over us, God bless you.

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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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- Stories 0
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- Votes 9
- Rating 4.56

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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- Votes 15
- Rating 4.00
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Thank you, James. As you know, all comments are welcome and mean a great deal. All the best, 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
- Shares 8
- 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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- Stories 0
- Shares 33
- Favorited 0
- Votes 5
- 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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- Votes 9
- Rating 4.11
My Other Half
- Published: February 21, 2024
Missing My Other Half

in Husband Death Poems

Together for over fifty years,
times of laughter and of tears.
I fell in love with all his charms,
could dance forever in his arms.

Together for over fifty years,
times of laughter and of tears.
I fell in love with all his charms,
could dance forever in his arms.

Except he didn't dance.

He preferred to ride a horse
I'd only ride if I was forced.
He loved dogs - I must confess
I thought they made a lot of mess.

We always had a dog.

I love people and talking,
he would rather be walking.
I like to paint and write,
he felt that was alright.

But he would rather read.

He liked to ski,
that was not for me.
I like to shop,
he definitely did not.

We both had fun in the sun.

It was not a perfect match,
but he was quite a catch,
and now that he is here no more
I feel stranded on an empty shore.

Half of me has gone.
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- Stories 7
- Shares 9
- Favorited 0
- Votes 19
- Rating 4.00
Featured Shared Story

Hi Alan

Yes, we have very similar stories. I too had been married for 58 years. Like you, I have also done a creative writing course since retirement. I very much look forward to...

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Ann D. Stevenson
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