“The sound of nature
the voice of our future
rings loud and clear
the Symphony of life we need to hear”
– Ivor Steven
**********
” Where there is nature, there is life
without nature there is no life”
– Ivor Steven
Ivor Steven (c) 2018
“The sound of nature
the voice of our future
rings loud and clear
the Symphony of life we need to hear”
– Ivor Steven
**********
” Where there is nature, there is life
without nature there is no life”
– Ivor Steven
Ivor Steven (c) 2018
When your senses are blind
Driving you out of your mind
How do you find that word
Unique and unheard
Lost, gone out of your head
Not there, under your unmade bed
Nor between your untidy sheets
Removed during your midnight heat
You’ve searched along every note-pad line
Flicked through grandpa’s dictionary overtime
The missing word is yet to be found
Your dog stares at you, as if you’re unsound
It’s somewhere, you wrote it down
The word, to be your poem’s crown
Shaking your brain, side to side
Rattle, rattle, adjectives clash inside
Suddenly you remember
It’s something about December
How could you forget
The fallen Refugee reject
Cutting himself on his old sword
Swearing, “restitution”, is the word
Ivor Steven (c) 2018
Sunday morning bliss
A memory, a wish
Confirmation, of a promise
A togetherness kiss
My tears do dwell
I was under her spell
There’s no need for show and tell
You know my heart well
There’s a memory lane
Within my sighing veins
Pumping slowly, flowing deep
A river of dreams that never sleep
Visions of a begone life
A joyful husband and wife
The glory days are gone
Happily, I’ve begun to move on
And remember with fondness
Our first, and last kiss
Ivor Steven (c) 2018


I’ve been listening to The Waterboys songs lately, their lyrics are meaningful and their music is always dramatic. In this following piece of mine I’ve used 18 of their song Titles as the foundation for my poem. To other Waterboys fans who read this post, I hope my words have done The Waterboys the justice they deserve, by all their glorious songs. For those readers, and me, who are struggling with the italics and too many capital letters, below at the bottom of the post, is an easy reading version.
The combined Trumpets of the world are sounding
Being carried on today’s Lonesome Old Wind
Resonating loudly for The Stolen Child
And Choirs are singing The Faery’s Last Song
Where did their promise go, and there’s no Sweet Thing in sight
Will the children get to view The Whole Of The Moon again
When will they ever cry out, “This Is The Sea”
Searching for their parents, crying “Where Are You Now When I Need You”
Children crawling Down Through The Dark Streets
Cowering under black clouds and Purple Rain
In A Pagan Place, created by governments
Shamefully they have Let It Happen
Our leaders need a wake-up call And A Bang On The Ear
When will they tell us “The Healing Has Begun”
We Will Not Be Lovers anymore, until
They declare to the last refugee girl, “She Is So Beautiful”
Let us hope the children suffer no Red Army Blues
And need not worry about being Too Close To Heaven
A big thank you to my friend Chris Black of, A way with words. for inspiring me to write another one these poems using song titles, the last one I wrote was on December 2nd 2017. https://ivors20.wordpress.com/2017/12/02/where-have-all-the-good-times-gone-2/
“Down Through The Dark Streets”
The Dark Streets
The combined trumpets of the world are sounding
Being carried on today’s lonesome old wind
Resonating loudly for the stolen child
And Choirs are singing the Faery’s last song
Where did their promise go, and there’s no sweet thing in sight
Will the children get to view the whole of the moon again
When will they ever cry out, “This Is The Sea”
Searching for their parents, crying “Where Are You Now When I Need You”
Children crawling down through the dark streets
Cowering under black clouds and purple rain
In a pagan place, created by governments
Shamefully they have let it happen
Our leaders need a wake-up call and a bang on the ear
When will they tell us “The Healing Has Begun”
We will not be lovers anymore, until
They declare to the last refugee girl, “She Is So Beautiful”
Let us hope the children suffer no red army blues
And need not worry about being too close to heaven
Ivor Steven (c) 2018.
I’ve been listening to The Waterboys songs lately, their lyrics are meaningful and their music is always dramatic. In this following piece of mine I’ve used 18 of their song Titles as the foundation for my poem. To other Waterboys fans who read this post, I hope my words have done The Waterboys the justice they deserve, by all their glorious songs. For those readers, and me, who are struggling with the italics and too many capital letters, below at the bottom of the post, is an easy reading version.
The combined Trumpets of the world are sounding
Being carried on today’s Lonesome Old Wind
Resonating loudly for The Stolen Child
And Choirs are singing The Faery’s Last Song
Where did their promise go, and there’s no Sweet Thing in sight
Will the children get to view The Whole Of The Moon again
When will they ever cry out, “This Is The Sea”
Searching for their parents, crying “Where Are You Now When I Need You”
Children crawling Down Through The Dark Streets
Cowering under black clouds and Purple Rain
In A Pagan Place, created by governments
Shamefully they have Let It Happen
Our leaders need a wake-up call And A Bang On The Ear
When will they tell us “The Healing Has Begun”
We Will Not Be Lovers anymore, until
They declare to the last refugee girl, “She Is So Beautiful”
Let us hope the children suffer no Red Army Blues
And need not worry about being Too Close To Heaven
A big thank you to my friend Chris Black of, A way with words. for inspiring me to write another one these poems using song titles, the last one I wrote was on December 2nd 2017. https://ivors20.wordpress.com/2017/12/02/where-have-all-the-good-times-gone-2/
“Down Through The Dark Streets”
The big blue sea between us
Is thousands of miles
It’s cruel I know
But you just have to smile
I’d be back for you
If I could just believe
That everything is right and pure
That everything is right and pure
That everything is right and pure
Will you come, Lassie, please?
The Dark Streets
The combined trumpets of the world are sounding
Being carried on today’s lonesome old wind
Resonating loudly for the stolen child
And Choirs are singing the Faery’s last song
Where did their promise go, and there’s no sweet thing in sight
Will the children get to view the whole of the moon again
When will they ever cry out, “This Is The Sea”
Searching for their parents, crying “Where Are You Now When I Need You”
Children crawling down through the dark streets
Cowering under black clouds and purple rain
In a pagan place, created by governments
Shamefully they have let it happen
Our leaders need a wake-up call and a bang on the ear
When will they tell us “The Healing Has Begun”
We will not be lovers anymore, until
They declare to the last refugee girl, “She Is So Beautiful”
Let us hope the children suffer no red army blues
And need not worry about being too close to heaven
Ivor Steven (c) 2018.
I was blinded
By the light
Losing the fight
I was silenced
By the noise
Staying without poise
I was attacked
By the crown
Breaking me down
I was sentenced
By the people
Hiding under their steeple
Hung out to dry
Nailed to a cross
Punished for my loss
Surviving, burnt my courage
I battled to be bold
Returning from the cold
I refound my faith
Recouping what they stole
Purifying my lost soul
Ivor Steven (c) 2018
I’m sitting at home this morning listening to the music of Xavier Rudd, and I’ll post two of songs with the lyrics below. Enjoy his words and his music, he’s an outstanding artist from my local area here, Geelong. Oh, yes, dear readers, the Plumber is going to work soon.
“Home”
Emphasis placed on the body and mind
The heart os often somewhere behind
Strange
Tiny little bones of the innocent child
Lookin’ up at me with the saddest of eyes
Is her innocence in tact?
Or has it been stained?
Has the creature that feeds her taken it away
Strange
So sad it’s strange
I recognize my health
Things I have been dealt
Places that I have roamed
Feelings I’ve had
Things that I know
Home, my home
Home, my home
Home, I’m home
Running through the bush
And all of the trees
Moving in time with my capable speed
Skippy ants claw
At the edge of the bowl
Of the shell of an egg
Of bird long since gone
Maybe it rose up
To spread it’s new wings
Or maybe it nourished
A stronger sibling
Strange
Places we roam
And people we meet
Some connections are strong
And some of them are weak
1 or 2 or 3 or 4
Or maybe 5 or 6 or more
Strong as the roots
Of a big old gum tree
And we’ll carry them through
To the next life we see
Strange
So beautifully strange
Recognize my health
Things that i have been dealt
Places that i have roamed
Feelings i’ve had
Things that i know
Home, my home
Home, my home
Home, i’m home
“Creating A Dream”
Imagine things were always crystal clear
Imagine if the mind never interfered
Imagine we could fly with broken wings
Imagine if the heart could shed its skin
Please patience please, patience please
I’m creating a dream
Please patience please, patience please
I’m creating a dream
Imagine sacred sites were left to be
Imagine if true activists controlled TV
Imagine Captain Watson had the final say
Imagine if industry just had to obey
Please patience please, patience please
I’m creating a dream
Please patience please, patience please
I’m creating a dream
Please patience please, patience please
I’m creating a dream
As the crow flies
I’m only a stone’s throw away
From here to beyond the skies
Out to the universe’s Milky-way
Where my dream never dies
I’ll keep dreaming
Until I burst at the seams
Drowning all doubters
In my custard and cream
Don’t misjudge my usefulness
Worn is not torn
With love and tenderness
Worn can be reborn
Your spear is the size of a harpoon
Plunging into my tethered heart
Take my leftover hand
Die with me
Burn our crosses
We’ll apply to the devil for a restart
Ivor Steven (c) 2018
I hear the wind whistling in the trees
Rustic sounds of rustling leaves
Swirling down through the branches
Prancing colourful dancers
Faery’s of the forest floor
Mother nature’s spiritual encores
I hear the wind applause for more
Seasonal breezes carrying pollen spores
Germinating ancient lands over the eons
Eden’s garden of blossom and vines
Serving our tables full of apples and wines
I hear the wind whispering memories and rhymes
Ivor Steven (c) 2018