A big thank you to David Repath and Timothy Price for jointly inspiring to write this Haiku, https://offcenternoteven.com/2022/03/05/ukrainian-daze/ and for Timothy’s stunning music/video
Tomorrow’s Shadows
Shadows of today
Precede tomorrow’s darkest clouds
Silhouettes of doom
Ivor Steven (c) March 2022
Do you feel the weight?
Of radio-active clouds
Hanging over stolen ground
Do you hear the birds singing?
Gone!
Is that peaceful sound
Do you hear warning sirens howl?
Resonating like old war songs
When bombs are guided into sacred ground
Fires from hell destroying beds and towns
Gone!
As ashen children wander over burnt ground
Home is a communal air-raid shelter
Where families fearfully huddle together underground
Above!
The torn loyalties of alien soldiers
Tread lightly and warily upon broken ground
Ivor Steven (c) March 2022
Can you hear the ghosts of Sunday?
“Sunday, Bloody Sunday”
From your distant country’s
On the edge of peace and tranquility
Within your rural trees of serenity
Beyond invisible borders of rivalry
Between oblivious inequality
From the old schoolyard bully
Overseeing an avoidable atrocity
Again another “Sunday, Bloody Sunday”
How can they forget history so quickly?
The midweek word/photo challenge is; Family Albums. My article and poem isn’t really about a family album, but these are the photos I took today, depicting the eeriness of our smokey and rainy sky…. Please go and visit the Weekly Prompts site by clicking>> HERE
Above Feature Image: I’m standing in light rain, at the end of my lane, but the sky is still a smokey haze, which is very eerie…..
Left. The smokey sky and sun at end of my lane. Right. The thunderstorm this afternoon
Left. A smokey beach in the morning Right. Looking straight at the sun on the beach
Eerie Sky, Teasing Rain
The eeriness is hard to explain
Our sky is smokey again
But here I stand in the rain
At the end of my dusty lane
Smelling the stench of our fiery haze
Now mixed with the aroma of wet maize
I’m stunned, and unearthly amazed
And Thor’s neon lights add to my daze
This summer storm is yet to fully expound
Tiny drops are struggling to cover the ground
The day’s hot, but our sun cannot be found
And this afternoon’s darkness leaves me spellbound
Footnote: As I’m about to post this article, we are having some heavy rain and there is more forecast for next Monday…. At last the sky is crying over the fires of South-Eastern Australia, hopefully enough to give our firefighters some much needed respite… Yeah.
Ivor Steven (c) Jan 2020
The sky is a blanket of smoke
Today, I cannot see the sun
Has our horizon gone?
Mother nature is angry
Humans have forgotten about life’s harmony
And God, cannot stop their selfish greed
Have we burnt too many of earth’s bridges?
The animals didn’t make it down the ridges
Most wildlife has been traumatically diminished
Millions of native animals have perished
Nothing here, will ever be the same, in my lifetime
Tonight, in my sleep, I shall carry buckets of lime
Ivor Steven (c) Jan 2020
“Long Way Home” Lyrics, by Tom Waits
How do we extinguish our burning hearts
How do we stop the hot ashes from blowing in the wind
Please, make it rain
Please, show us mercy, instead of hell
Ivor Steven (c) Jan 2020
Is It only me ?
that feels this way
my thoughts gushing out to sea
without knowing what to say
our world is being flushed
down the sewer drain
water-rat politicians eating leftover crusts
every-time our dying clouds rain
never ending, poisoning of the bays
strangling plastic bags
suffocating polystyrene trays
wrapped in bloody newspaper flags
animals killed by our waste
governments retain their ego for greed
T.V. and press reports, via copy and paste
while our planet’s going to seed
are we trying our best ?
for the creatures in need
stop, this shitting, on our own nest
how much more can the oceans bleed ?
Ivor Steven (c) July 2019
Let us not turn a blind eye
Clear the dark clouds from our sky
Extract our heads from the sand
Join our national brass band
Blow loudly on your trumpets
Let us stop being pawns and puppets
We’re not the sheep of their lands
We can be the blanket for our lambs
A collective sheet, protective and grand
Let us not be silent and bland
Clear the stage, make a stand
The worlds suffering children need us
Before they’re herded onto the bus
Like lambs to the slaughter
Imagine, our sons and daughters
Laying on concrete, alone and caged
Crying, weeping, could it be our ice-age
We’re distraught and outraged
Compassion, love, is paramount on centre-stage
Ivor Steven (c) 2018
A big Slurpy Thank You to Slasher Monster Magazine for publishing “Pumpkin Soup Again”, in their fabulous magazine, please go over and visit the site.
Head’s falling like an unpinned grenade.
Soon ready to explode.
Burying shrapnel pieces in corners of shade.
Scattered like broken retina globes.
Razor blades shredding memory lockets.
Slivered icicles inside blurry sockets.
Needles of pain.
Sheets of sleet before the rain.
Bloodied eyeball tracks like meteor trails.
And the pain-numbing capsules do fail.
Oh please, blindly needing to set sail.
Upon swirling Oceans, like Homer’s tales.
I’m frightened, and I’m too scared to wait. 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 bonfire’s started, against the rules. And the crowd’s rejoicing, as the fire drools. […]
via SMM 2017 Halloween Writing Contest: Burning Fears — SlasherMonster
Ivor.Plumber/Poet 