Almost There
So I Say Hello to you
I turned away from you
After almost six weeks
Of this harrowing streak
It’s been no stroll in the park
Resting here in the semi dark
The painful knives have been withdrawn
The headaches have almost retired
I’m almost well enough
To enjoy Christmas with family
And by the start of two thousand and twenty
I’ll be almost here, I’ll be almost me again
So I say hello to you
And wish you a happy and healthy festive season
Ivor Steven (c) Dec 2019
A Cheery Santa
The season of merry cheer is here
There’s always many Christmas parties
They seem to begin weeks before
Yesterday Santa was at the Valhalla Bar
Ho ho, he was big happy Santa
With a sackful of gifts for everyone
I’m one of the oldest children there
I know he’s not really real
As I had a beer with him 10 minutes before
Yes, big friendly Reg, became Santa
For me, a stubbie holder and a T-shirt
Even a can of Valhalla beer
And Santa Reg joined me for more frothy cheer
Ivor Steven (c) Dec 2019
Hello dear readers, again I’ve been browsing through some of my older poems, that have stashed away, and not been published by me/nor posted here on WordPress. And here’s another one of these personal love poems, from a time, when I had new lady in my life. I thought maybe it’s about time I presented these pieces from my archives. The relationship finished four years ago, so I thought that enough time has lapsed, for me to now show you, another side/story of my life……
A Different Beat
They say, “love makes the world go around”
I think my, “loving world” has just been re-found
My life is madly spinning like a colourful top
Whirling at a humming speed, unable to stop
My once lonely heart, is pounding a different beat
Throbbing from inside my chest, to the soles of my feet
This surprising emotion of sharing all my deepest love
Could have been ordained by my angel, there high above
Ivor Steven (c) October 2019
Family, friends and followers
Lend me yours ears
I’ve only been blogging
Not even two years
A medium I did not understand
A venue way exceeding my expectations
A happening beyond my imagination
A journey I lovingly shared
I have enjoyed every unsteady step
What else can I say
I shower you all, “A Thousand Kisses Deep”
And my Nautilus is awash with likes
Fifty Thousand Leagues (likes) Under The Sea
In my ocean full of pleasure and love
I Thank you all
I am not drowning, but resurrected
Ivor Steven (c) 2019
I wrote this poem last night, when I woke up at 1.30am. The featured image above, is looking up at the Geelong hills north of the town, they are called the “You Yangs”. I suppose my poem below is about, how our politicians, should look up , to see what’s coming down on their heads. This post is for the Weekly Prompt, Photo Challenge: Up <<Click on, to view The Weekly Prompt site…..
Feeding Them Up On Bullets Instead
How hard must we hit the nail
On their heads
Before the white house wooden hearts
Finally count the living-dead
How hard does the rain have to fall
On their heads
Before the farmer’s empty buckets
Only fill via tears from the living-dead
How hard shall the sunshine burn
On their heads
Before the number of extinct birds
Light-up the dark gap between government heads
How hard do crumbling icebergs break
On their heads
Before both polar ice-caps melt
Flooding our storage silos and sheds
The answer my friends, rests
On their heads
Before all the starving arise from earthen beds
Crying out, stop feeding us up on bullets instead
Words, Between the Lines Of Age . Neil Young. Lyrics
Someone and someone were down by the pond
Looking for something to plant in the lawn.
Out in the fields they were turning the soil
I’m sitting here hoping this water will boil
When I look through the windows and out on the road
They’re bringing me presents and saying hello.
Singing words, words between the lines of age.
Words, words between the lines of age.
If I was a junk-man selling you cars,
Washing your windows and shining your stars,
Thinking your mind was my own in a dream
What would you wonder and how would it seem?
Living in castles a bit at a time
The king started laughing and talking in rhyme.
Singing words, words between the lines of age.
Words, words between the lines of age.
Ivor Steven (c) 2019
I’m too tired to continue
Carrying this Olympus torch
The flame is not staying alight
Under my sheltering porch
All I want to do
Is watch the birds
And selfishly forget
The hungry and dying herds
My bell has become too hollow
To ring against the war
Too heavy to lift
High above the floor
Too wide to pass
Through the Whitehouse door
Too noisy to tell
Humanity the real score
Soon we’ll all board the Ark
Row away from our shores
Fly our rescue flag aft
Explore the sky with Thor
Listen to the heavens
Hear the peace-bells last encore
Proudly ring the bells that still can ring
Chiming so loud, no-one can ignore
Ivor Steven (c) 2019
My tired voice is crying out, “there’s no time to wait !!”
Pleading, along with the world’s impatient majority
We need to hear the thunder, of peace bells ringing
Ringing to the crescendo of peace doves singing
The chimes are loud and clear
Loud enough for the universe to hear
Even through white marble walls
You’ll hear the thunder of the peace bell’s … call
We the people, from the planet’s four corners
Are united by our textiles woven together
We’ve attached our hands firmly to the bell pull
And tugging the pull cords, the thunder of the bells shall ring
We are gathering in every backyard
Every church hall
Every city street
Every farmers paddock
Every heavenly peace dove is escaping
You will see the doves flying high above
Even through the towers of tinted glass
You’ll see the peace doves … soar
Even through their white marble walls
They’ll hear the thunder of the peace bells … call
Even through their towers of tinted glass
They’ll hear the crescendo of the peace doves … call
Hear the thunder of peace bells ringing
Hear the crescendo of peace doves singing
Ivor Steven (c) 2019
There’s a serene tranquil calmness
Hovering over this panoramic bay
The cloudy sky’s silkily reflected
Upon it’s benign smooth waters
The shoreline’s fresh-air is gently cool
Creating a peaceful atmosphere of awe and wonder
Impressing local onlookers and tourist alike
Beholding a picturesque, enchanting balminess
Soothing to all those enraptured souls
Fortunate to view the waterfronts afternoon artistry
Blue Yonder: By David Francey, Lyrics
Here on the ground
It’s a long way down
To the land down under
And all I want to do
Is ride into the blue yonder
Id’ beep in the sky
And I’d be higher than high
And it’s no wonder
That all I want to do
Is ride into the blue yonder
Into the blue yonder
Into the blue yonder
All I want to do
Is ride into the blue yonder
I’d be up in the clouds
And I’d be laughing out loud
With the world to wander
And all I want to do
Is ride into the blue yonder
I’ll be into the blue
And I’ll be gone and through
And I’ll be out from under
And all I want to do
Is ride into the blue yonder
Into the blue yonder
Into the blue yonder
All I want to do
Is ride into the blue yonder
Ivor Steven (c) 2019
Every picture tells a story
I will not show the bloody war pictures
No need to add to the gruesome tale
Everybody knows the score
Our leaders know, how many were lost at war
Instead, I’ve a different photo, of a tablecloth
A wedding gift of my parents
Now my family heirloom
Aged over seventy years old
Embroidered Peacocks on fine linen
I wonder how often the tablecloth has been used
Not as many times as nuclear bombs have been fused
How many people have sat around the tablecloth and eaten
Not as many people as the war’s have maimed and beaten
Ask world politicians and know-all dictators
They’ll all know the forgotten bloody score
That’s my enduring tablecloth picture story
Same old hidden facts of hell and rancid glory
Ivor Steven (c) 2019
I’m at my desk wondering
Sitting here deeply pondering
Whether I’m a strange sort of writer
And am I, an only loner
My keyboard is covered in moisture
A wetness from my overflowing tears
I cry about my latest plight
I cry for the world’s hungry, sleeping tonight
I cry during Xavier’s song, Spirit Bird, like the, Last Post
I cry for the children, the ones we have lost
My heart bleeds tears from within
My heart writes with soul filled ink
My heart dampen’s with every word I weep
My heart floods with emotions every time I sleep
I was wondering
And I am pondering
Do other writers, hear that nightly sound
Hear the pitter-patter of naked feet
Hear the noise of shuffling feet in their sleep
Hear their dirtied feet, the millions of poor children, yet to eat
Ivor Steven (c) 2019
Ivor.Plumber/Poet 