Hello dear readers and followers, as you may know, I now write for “Coffee House Writers” magazine on a fortnightly basis, and my poem “Pitch Black, War Limericks Are Not Fun”, is in this weeks edition of Coffee House Writers Magazine. … please click on the link below to read my poem, at Coffee House Writers >> https://coffeehousewriters.com/pitch-black-war-limericks/
Ivor Steven (c) March 2022
The harsh baltic winds
Whistle through frozen borders
Destroying old trees
And crushing dead Ukraine leaves
Then depart as Russian thieves
Ivor Steven (c) March 2022
A huge thank you to the editors at Spillwords, Dagmara and Rebecca, who guided me through to produce this interview.
@ivors20
I was born and raised in Geelong, Victoria, Australia (the southern part of the continent, an hour south of Melbourne), and I am still a resident of my home town, having never moved more than 5km away from my parents’ house.
Geelong is a city beside the bay, and only 30 minutes away from the picturesque Bellarine Peninsula beaches, and the famous South Coast surf beaches. If I was to be reincarnated, I am sure I would come back as a dolphin.
Ivor Steven (c) March 2022
This weekend the challenge from Weekly Prompts is: Variation. Please go over and visit their fabulous site by clicking on >> Here .. The below poem is my response to the prompt.
A Variation of the Same Theme
My usual lazy Saturday afternoon
The sun is beaming like a silver spoon
Here relaxing at my familiar save zone
My favourite cafe, not far from home
Then my mind begins to sadly ponder
How the children are coping over yonder
Without their afternoon coffee and fruitcake
Without their young friends cuddles and handshakes
Only to be left forsaken
Clasping their frightened heartaches
Ivor Steven (c) March 2022
Afternoon / evening
St Patrick’s Day at Murphy’s
Irish songs and cheers
Ivor Steven (c) March 2022
Shine your light on me
Open your bright eyes for me
Illuminate me
Ivor Steven (c) March 2022
Wandering over shadowless ground
Did you notice too?
The clouds loomed darker this morning
And their bleakness was edging closer
Have they lost their way too?
Did you notice?
The birds sounded sadder this morning
They were not singing their awakening tunes
Actually! Where have all the birds gone
Have they fled from home too?
Ivor Steven (c) March 2022
Look above the ugly pylons
Away from that slimy Russian python
Beyond those strangling power lines
There is a luminous cosmic sign
Piercing our dark thunderous skies
Wearing an ancient peacetime disguise
In a temple full of untainted eyes
Anticipating the worlds next golden sunrise
Ivor Steven (c) March 2022
I would surrender my poetic soul to you
If that could hand you compassion?
To help you stop your war
I would offer my shattered heart to you
If you are needing a piece of heart?
To help you stop your war
I would remove my crying eyes
and stay blind to you
If your ego is looking for guidance?
To help you stop your war
President Putin
Have you a shred of decency?
Left inside your arrogant mind
Would you?
Desert your grandchildren
And Evict them to be
Homeless and frightened
Ivor Steven (c) March 2022
Do they hear humanity’s fears?
Will that day come?
When all the big ears
Will listen as one
How many rivers of tears must we cry?
Before all our deepest wells run dry
How many innocent children must fall?
Before all the big ears hear their helpless calls
That wounded haunting drawl
The ghostly scrapping sound of homeless feet
Mournfully shuffling along their bombarded streets
Ivor Steven (c) March 2022
Ivor.Plumber/Poet 