A Star Called Home
I am high flying
On the back of Phillip
My mystical fairy Penguin
I am the co-pilot
As we zoom over the halfway marker
That line in the sand
Now, there is no turning back
We are a dynamic duo
Wholeheartedly committed
To fulfill our dreams
Ungainly we may be
As we skim above the deepest sea
Toward the blue horizon
Chasing the cosmic sky
Looking for a star called home
I am reposting this poem in response to Moonwashed’s Weekly Prompted; Becalmed
>> https://amanpan.blog/2023/12/19/moonwashed-weekly-prompt-becalmed/
Becalmed Without an Alibi
Time to unshackle my inflatable raft
And reignite my charred draft
I left floating down the river
When I was the disabled driver
Of my Itmims space craft
Sadly, the fuel tank is running on empty
And the secondhand battery is almost dry
I need to recharge my world beyond page twenty
And being becalmed is not an imaginative alibi
Itmims; Ivor’s Time Machine In Micro Space
Ivor Steven (c) December 2023
The Faeries Christmas Tree (a Tanka)
Deep in the damp woods
Behind dewy leaves, I spied
Faeries dancing
And frolicking around their
Community’s Christmas tree
Vale: Shane MacGowan
Ivor Steven (c) December 2023
Last evening I attended the Geelong Writers book launch of their annual anthology “Eclectic Words 2023”, and I am thrilled to announce that my piece “A Frollick of Forest Faeries” appears in the poetry section this prestigious Anthology.
The lyrics to “A Faerie Song (We Who Are Old)” by The Waterboys & William B Yeats
Ivor Steven (c) December 2023
Over at Weekly Prompts, the Weekend Challenge is the word; Finale You may visit their wonderful site by clicking on >> Here.
His Musical Finale
Richard the intrepid snail
Went searching for the Holy Grail
He was told by the garden toad
His goal was on a long frosty road
Winding down toward the South Pole
Coolly, the snail began his arctic stroll
Determined to find the sacred anomaly
Before the music played at his grand finale
Tullawalla is Available From
Jaymah Press:https://www.jaymahpress.com.au/
Ivor Steven: email, ivorrs20@gmail.com
Amazon: search via, ‘Tullawalla by Ivor Steven’
AND
Perceptions is Now Available via:
Amazon: https://amzn.asia/d/4yFHWrT
Jaymah Press: https://www.jaymahpress.com.au/
OR: email me directly for a signed copy – ivorrs20@gmail.com
Ivor Steven (c) November 2023
Today’s Throwback Friday poem is a rewrite of a piece original called “Living On a Knife Edge”(Feb 2019). This poem was one of two, that I submitted to be published in March 2020 , but the other poem was accepted ahead of this piece, and here today I have again revised the 2020 poem.
Living On a Wooden Bridge (Revised)
Fire, fire, there’s raging fires
I need help to stamp out the flames
Burning down this old timber bridge
A traveler’s last causeway to the edge
Carrying today’s harsh realities
Spanning a lifetime of dreams and fantasies
Rain, rain, there’s a Noah’s flood
I need help to stop the cascading suds
Fill the sandbags with riverbed mud
Plug the leakages with woolly rugs
Ring out qualms and doubts
And accept the charity handouts
Warning, warning, there’s a heatwave
I need help to see through the shimmering haze
And peer into nature’s fiery atmosphere tonight
Where millions of her fireflies are alight
Forcing eyes to hear the sound of flashing delights
Gathering above the bridge to be the world’s new sunlight
“The Hosting Of The Shee” a poem by William B Yeats, sung by the Waterboys
The host is riding from Knocknarea
And over the grave of Clooth-na-Bare
Caoilte tossing his burning hair
And Niamh calling: ‘Away, come away’
‘Away, come away, away, away’.
The winds awaken, the leaves whirl round
Our cheeks are pale, our hair is unbound
Our breasts are heaving, our eyes are agleam
Empty your heart of its mortal dream.
The host is riding from Knocknarea
And over the grave of Clooth-na-Bare
Caoilte tossing his burning hair
And Niamh calling: ‘Away, come away’
‘Away, come away, away, away’.
Our armsa-wave, our lips are apart
And if anything gaze on our rushing band
We come between him and the hope of his heart
We come between him and the deed of his hand.
The host is riding from Knocknarea
And over the grave of Clooth-na-Bare
Caoilte tossing his burning hair
And Niamh calling: ‘Away, come away’
‘Away, come away, away, away, away, away…’.
Ivor Steven (c) November 2023
Please Note: All attached Photos presented in this article were taken by Derrick Knight, and he has kindly allowed me reproduce them here on my poetry site. You may visit his wonderful article, and site by clicking on this link >> https://derrickjknight.com/2023/10/02/moons-for-denzil/
Moon Dew
The moon slithered
into my bedroom
through a crack beside
her nostalgic heirloom
and lowered himself
onto my breastplate
stared into my eyes
and told me straight
“There is no need for tears
I am here to ease your fears
before I leave
I will give you
a loving spoonful
of magical moon dew
my universal cure
for the morning blues”
“Thank you, Mr. Moon”
as I joyfully sipped
from his silver spoon
Tullawalla is Available From
Jaymah Press:https://www.jaymahpress.com.au/
Ivor Steven: email, ivorrs20@gmail.com
Amazon: search via, ‘Tullawalla by Ivor Steven’
AND
Perceptions is Now Available via:
Amazon: https://amzn.asia/d/4yFHWrT
Jaymah Press: https://www.jaymahpress.com.au/
OR: email me directly for a signed copy – ivorrs20@gmail.com
Ivor Steven (c) October 2023
Today’s poem “Untethered”, is also an uncaptured piece that did not make the final list for the new book “Until Eyes Hear Sound”… hmmm … and I always like to get away in my “Itmims” spacecraft …
Untethered
With my back against the setting sun
I will fly toward a placid place, not yet overrun
Where the ground is not made of buried heads and limbs
I will untether my sturdy spacecraft Itmims*
And traverse the universe to discover a new world
Another planet of wonderment, yet unfurled
Where rivers and oceans are crystal clear
And unmasked, I can breathe the atmosphere
Where flowering plains are home to sacred trees
And native fauna roam wild and free
*Itmims, Ivor’s time machine in micro space
Coming Soon
Ivor Steven (c) October 2023
I went to the Geelong Writers monthly social meeting at the Box Office Cafe this evening … I am back home, It’s 10.30pm, I’m tired, my computer is “duck muck” again, so I thought I would a reblog of this ‘appropriate’ poem before I hit the sack
A Torn Thesaurus
With my fiddle and riddles
Here in the middle
Of this unopened universe
Time spirals in reverse
Quills fly in from cyberspace
As alien words unravel and interlace
A torn thesaurus is my database
I wonder
Have I landed in the right place?
But that does not matter
K-9’s happy with the community chatter
Doggie treats and friendly pats
And he presents his paw for more
Like a hungry beggar’s cap
Ivor Steven (c) July 2022
Over at Weekly Prompts, the word: Backwards is the Weekend Challenge. Please visit their fabulous site by clicking on >> Here. – Below, I followed Sue’s suggestion and went “Backwards” through my files and found this intriguing piece from September 2017
Featured Image: Artwork, by Kerri Costello, Graphic Design Artist, my amazing niece/second cousin, who lives in Philadelphia, and I think this was the first design that she created for my poetry website.
Burning the Fears
I’m frightened, and too scared to show my face
And knowingly, I’m arriving late
The ghouls are spying from the hill
And lower fools are poisoning her will
Underneath her, a wicker complete
Above, she’s suspended from a stake
The bonfires started, against the rules
And the crowds rejoicing, as the fire drools
Waiting agog, for her garments to ignite
The flames are crackling below her tonight
And the mob’s listening for her ungodly screams
But there’s not a whimper! Within she beams
And secretly, I see her black cat’s drowning tears
Are extinguishing all her burning fears
Ivor Steven (c) August 2023
Ivor.Plumber/Poet 