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My Poetry

After leaving school at 15 a rebellious and angry young man, Steve Soden has now become deep-thinking, spiritual and romantic. His poetry is written in an uneasy and cynical style reflected through personal experience of Birth, Life and Death. 

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Steve has recently published a book of his poetry, To Hell and Back. This is the first collection of poems by the Birmingham born poet, playwright and songwriter. 

This is available for purchase by contacting us here

Three of my poems

Crimson Moon

The half un-woken moon

Stumbles uneasily as the dim dark night

Breaks through the restless 

Untouched clouds


There is no feeling only a thought

That provokes the ponderous

Out of tune melancholic

Hushed sound of solitude


Tiny tenuous droplets of rain fall

As a continuous avalanche of tears

Flow down stream

Into the reservoir of history


The now full blood crimson moon

Has awoken whilst time twists and turns

To the tick-tock-tock

Fragile heartbeat that is no more


The nakedness of delusion

Is lost in time

The untouched breast waits impatiently 

To be touched, caressed and loved


The beauty of the female form

Is nothing more than a silhouette

Shrouded in the shadows of forgiveness


The lust of a thousand kisses deep

Are nothing more than broken promises

Left un-kept in the graveyard of the heart


The long stemmed rose

Pricks the un-gloved hand

That bleeds but feels no pain


The romance of a bye-gone-age

Is lost in an un-rhymed sonnet

And as the page is slowly turned

True love is forever burned 


Steve devised and ran

Bohemian Voices in London for ten years, a unique mix of Music, Comedy and Poetry.

Jimmy Carr, Michael Mcintyre, Hal Cruttenden, Shappi Khorsandi, Rob Dearing, Pete Doherty and The Libertines all performed at Bohemian Voices.

Steve said: My compering was described by Time-Out as Richard E. Grant on acid.

Steve re-launched Bohemian Voices at Worcester Arts Workshop in November 2019, but because of the pandemic and then the subsequently permanent closer of the Arts Workshop it is on hold and a new venue is needed.


The harmony of hope

Dangles precariously

From the thin fine

Almost invisible thread of tenderness


The shadows creep upon

The sacred cross

As the ferryman ushers

The wind-swept travellers of time


The prophet crosses

The bridge of dreams

Heading east as the sun

Blinds the eyes of wisdom


Tomorrow is almost

Unreachable as the

Dim, dark day

Is no more

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