I’m here, in my writers room
Secure in this single cocoon
But my active mind’s wondering
And dreams of freely wandering
Be patient I am told
Remember those bad days of old
When your body turned cold
Dead from a worldly mould
You’re to be a good patient again
Remember those months of pain
When clots and spots invaded your brain
And how you survived, to see your spirit reign
Ivor Steven (c) March 2020
The Weekend Challenge from Weekly Prompts is ‘Ladders.‘ please go over and visit the “Weekly Prompts” fabulous site by clicking >>HERE. Today my poem is about the view I see from the top of my ladder….
A Dragonfly Lives Six Months
From atop of my wooden ladder
I saw crowds growing madder
Beyond the world’s yellowing sky
I heard a murmuring dragonfly
Cry and fall off his rainbow slide
Landing awkwardly on his side
Powerless I gazed, mortified
As one of nature’s angels, slowly died
Ivor Steven (c) March 2020
I wonder what mum and grandma are thinking
Mum was born after the First World War
A child of the roaring twenties
Then she became a poor teenager, of the great depression
And a young nurse, during the horror’s of a second World War
A time when everyone’s supplies were rationed
Everyone helped each other, when things run out
Everyone knew a son, that been killed in the war
Everyone gave you a soft shoulder to lean on
Everyone shared each others pain
Our parents and grandparents survived
And taught us compassion, and the value of every single life
Ivor Steven (c) March 2020
I’m living inside my bubble of air and sea
But my shadow is drifting away from me
A distant silhouette beyond my arms reach
Now I’m an isolated sand-grain off yesterday’s beach
I’m walking alone and free in today’s daydream
Thinking of life, crossing-over to be with my honey and cream*
This commonwealth of man has isolated the birds and bees
Now I’m hoping to hug this dark forest’s future trees
honey and cream* >> https://ivors20.wordpress.com/2018/10/28/cream-and-honey-2/
Ivor Steven (c) March 2020
The Outlook
Dawn reveals a brilliant red plume
The Day Lily’s last bloom
Slowly opening to the predicted gloom
Casting a final shadow of colour on my room
In life I know nature’s not the carrier of doom
And next year they’ll be more flowers from her womb
Ivor Steven (c) March 2020
I stood beside the librarian, and didn’t know why she was crying
My poetry group’s Sunday meeting was cancelled this morning
I had last night’s dreams in my hand, as a readable draft
They were soulful words that needed to leave my heart
But my poet’s notebook remained virally unread
I was left segregated, and even the church-mouse had fled
Next morning, during the dawn’s half light
I lay there half awake, recalling my other half’s restless night
By then the evening tears had cleansed my misty sight
And washed the dusty notebook pages back to white
Alive again, my 2B pencil had begun to rewrite
About my dreams of life’s old wrongs and future plights
Ivor Steven (c) March 2020
This weekend “The Weekly Prompt” challenge is slightly different from the norm; They have chosen a question, and the question is ‘What is it?‘ Please go and check out their fabulous site by clicking >>HERE…. Above, in the Feature Image, is my photo of “What is it?” , and below is my poem about the object in the photo ??
What? Escalation Again
Is this the germ?
That mysterious virus
Or maybe the cure
Our miracle antibiotic
Why profoundly round?
A slippery pill of renown
Why be so colourful?
The answers a rainbow, upside down
Red’s for blood
Yellow’s our solar sun
Blue for the ocean that surrounds
What about the black crosses?
Sorry, the gravestones
Representing the losses
An insightful imagination
Of a sixteen year-old
During the cold-war escalation
His world then, was young and bold
Ivor Steven (c) March 2020
The winds of time have changed us
And poisoned the fallen petals on our beds of snugness
Life’s dreams are flooding in rivers of hard rain
Where every river ends up in oceans of choking drains
Today there’s a gale, blow wind, blow
Cover us in pure white snow
Cool off our noxious foes
Drown our secret fears and toxic woes
There’s gathering piles of angel dust
During these days of airborne distrust
Laying unnaturally on barren ground
Making us weary and feeling unsound
We’re here cowering on uncovered platforms
Waiting out this passing sandstorm
And there’ll be the winds drenching rains
Before, quietly and calmly, the rainbow glows again
Ivor Steven (c) March 2020
Kelly’s Smile
A balmy Autumn evening
And poet’s words are unveiling
Over twenty wordsmith recitals
Here within the poetry group’s citadel
Black Veil, White Veil, is the allotted theme
A topic of intriguing extremes
Encouraging opposing moonbeams
From the writers imaginative dreams
After the entertaining poetry event
I stroll across to the music bar I frequent
And I hear a singer’s voice extraordinaire
Kelly has a genuine smile, and is a storyteller with flare
Eventually my exciting night, becomes tired embers
And I meet up with fellow poetry group members
The friendly Jeff and Stephanie and there’s happy hugs all-round
Kindly they offer me a lift, and I’m homeward bound
Below Left: Me & Kelly Below Right: Stephanie & Jeff, back at my place
Ivor Steven (c) March 2020
Goodbye Yorkie, Hello Phillie
Today I returned Yorkie to his owner
He’s been here for fifteen months
And what an interesting time we weathered
Here on guard, under my verandah
He’s seen all of my downs and ups
Helping with those unsteady recovery steps
Nursing my body through the hurtful setbacks
And assisting this damaged mind to stay focused
Yesterday, was our last exercise session together
I shall miss our silent conversations
Daily, I would be chatting away to him
And stoically he stood, quietly listening
But as the saying goes
Out with the old and in with the new
I’ve been kindly donated a replacement for Yorkie
“She” will be on my verandah tomorrow
In time for my Philadelphia cousin’s visit next month
And I think I’ll name her “Phillie”
Ivor Steven (c) March 2020
Ivor.Plumber/Poet 