Steven Kaiser's ΔRtwork

In 2020, I started writing poetry

Contact and address

Since I am relatively new to poetry, about two years for the most part, it took me several tries before I was able to do this. I post my poetry in order, as it is written, so it should get clearer as you read toward the newer pieces.

Poem in progress (paused work in 2021)

Verse 1

The storms, they lay, I feel caressed so high, they bind me still.

A bee, he braves, he flops on passing tides that mold my will.

Reforms, they stay. With zeal, he presses on to find no fight.

A sea of waves, he lops these massing guides and hold no fright.

The storms divide, and conquer wide, but flying holds me not like buzzing brings.

The turmoil tides, and bees, they forge their plan toward greater span.

Their norms implied, not suicide, but trying molds the lot to greater stings.

The foil bides, as drones Saint George to give the sword a plan.

The cost of acts, they lose themselves to wars, forever times.

They seek to find the dreams they had before they tried and died.

Their loss is facts of news, as delved through doors, no longer crimes.

Prey fleek to mind what seems, they had, a roar, it died their side.

But single humans make worlds, not,

for frozen worlds, they aren’t hot.

Verse 2

The past we feel, it burns, regarding voice in broken years.

A growing choice is mass debate. What’s lost to time, desires.

The mast and keel, it turns, retarding choice in spoken cheers.

The sowing voice in class of late, its cost in chime, rewires.

The cast is real, but sealed, for it’s restrained but never seen.

As time, it lives through laws, the voices die but treasures lie.

The mast and keel, now healed, where fits contained, no longer seen.

Now crime, it gives no pause. The pleasures lie beneath this die.

The bees, they guard their queen in seas they love with guards in legs,

But ants, they guard their queen unseen in nests where dark and stark.

They breeze and side what’s seen and tease above to keep its eggs.

Abut inside, and not demean, as queens, one mark, and hark!

If not, corruption, one and all, they die until one tries.

A thorn when sharp, it grows. If credence sews, and all, more, knows, then range.

If aught, disruption, lie and fall, all try, until demise.

Or torn, they harp, it shows, impedance grows, and fall, it goes, then change.

Verse 3

As lesser seen divides, the bee and bird with less surmise,

diminished powers, greater folds, and catered knowledge, shine.

Where evergreen subsides, the free chauffeured rejects surprise.

Unfinished showers, later holds, denatured comes to brine.

Bernoulli starts where details stop. There, building knowledge lulls.

A smoother blow is built inside, a stable tooth at popish trendy social sights.

Unruly hearts, their sea tales, slop. Their gilding haulage dulls.

Where soother flows are silt with pride, these label truths are never bendy factual rights.

Verse 4

In social seas, they all agree, they all are free, contort.

Queen Latifah; “This greedy airline put all these seats so close together just so they could make more money.”

-All cheers, all sneers, all jeers, all steers, all gears, no fears, but one.

When all a flea, they’re all a sea, they’re all a tree: Fall short.

A lighter eye is one, two, three, these ants, a sea.

It’s one or three, it’s one or two, it’s two or three.

A brighter try, fun ants or bee, where rants or scree,

a shun won’t be, a ton could do, no brew will be.

When brawls are glee, we all are we: contort.

But local trains, they break the mains, they thwart.

I can not be, each broken, local me.

This falls, a sea, I can not see: The bee.

Verse 5