Stephen Ferre – composer, writer

Composer of large orchestral works, writer of short stories (and long ones), teacher of aspiring musicians, plays a big brass tube that makes loud noises, likes words with more than three syllables.

Latest from the Blog

Still There

it all swirls, swirls
spiraling round and round
hypnotic

losing contact, no contact
I’m out, quite out
cold, almost

remember that day, what day?
when I, yes when we …
forgot … who?

Itchy Feet

Rebecca stood waiting at the door. She’d knocked once, twice, three times. Biting her lip, she started turning away before the lock clicked and the door creaked open.

“I …” she began.

“You are expected,” answered a wizened hag. That didn’t properly describe her, she must have been beautiful once. She moved with a grace that belied her years, and she still had her figure.

On Being Mortal

Life sucks sometimes,
dreaming, planning your future,
but it doesn’t work.
It’s not so easy.

You can’t have your cake,
much less eat it.
There is always something in the way,
or someone.

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