Category: Poems

 

Again I’m posting this poem on “Go Dog Go Cafe’s”, Promote Yourself Monday’s, and thank you to Linda, of “Charmed Chaos”, for the kind invitation… Please Click  >>>> Here    to visit their fabulous site.

 

 

White Clouds Over Forest Floor Snail Trails

 

I remember the days well

When I could hear the ringing of bluebells

And the horizon, was an aqua clear skyline

Splashed with drifting, pristine shrines

The fertile ranges, enriched by His grapevines

Growing on posts and wires, green living enzymes

Now everywhere, there’s poles, cables and yellow floodlights

Feeding hungry digital mealtimes, instead of stargazers under the moonlight

Oh, to again see clouds glide with full white sails

Moving slow enough to observe, a forest floor’s snail trails

Ivor Steven (c) July 2019

I’ve a lady visiting, on my bed

Relaxed and snoring, all spread

Friendly, and in her own way beautiful

Cuddly and always an armful

I’m grateful to have her here

Beside me, I adore her soft ears

Lovingly listening to my heartbeat

As she lays there on my feet

Undemanding, a gracious sleeping beauty

Attending to her daily needs, is my happy duty

 

Ivor Steven (c)  July 2019

Inside the clouds

Comes the secret of the rain

Outside, the sky

Reflects the ocean’s colouring veins

Within the sun

Burst, undying corona rays

Overhead, the moon

Casts shadows night and day

Underneath, there’s the earth

Orbiting, in charge of seasonal change

Nearby, there’s Venus and Mars

Planets without smog and cars

Above, there’s the stars

The universe’s infinite mountain range

 

Featured Image: Pinterest.

 

Ivor Steven (c)  June 2019

 

 

My Old Lane To Nowhere

 

The roadworks have gone on for half a year

At seven in the morning, noisy trucks crunching into gear

My old muddy track

A dirt lane, no longer winding back

The boggy clay  is being dug out and renewed

Soon to be a bitumen and concrete view

I’ll be walking on a sealed road

No more murky puddles, nor frogs and toads

 

Gone the stench of rotting soil

Mixed in with leftover sump oil

My house floor to stay cleaner

And a nature strip groomed and greener

At last, my driveway entrance dry and solid

No more fishing in the muck for my dropped wallet

 

Ivor Steven (c)  June 2019

I attended another recital/open mic, evening tonight. Despite venturing out into the cold, I enjoyed the friendly evening. A great chance to meet up with fellow poets and hear their outstanding works. Also a time to sip on a few beers and soak up the pleasant surroundings, and atmosphere, of the ‘Valhalla Brewing & Taproom’  bar, during the poetry reading sessions. I was fortunate enough to be allowed to read three of my poems. Below are the three pieces that I read out tonight.

 

Dreams Of The Heart

 

I cannot walk the continents

Like the intrepid Marco Polo

But my feet have felt the sands of time

Pass between my toes

 

I have not sailed the high seas

Like the courageous Christopher Columbus

But my body has bathed

In an ocean full of kind hearts

 

I’m yet to fly in space

Like the brave Neil Armstrong

But I have reached for the stars

And touched my soul’s dreams

 

 

Its Time

 

We’ll miss you,

Mother Earth.

Your splendour,

And imposing style.

From forest canopy’s,

To the desert Nile.

New creations,

Beauty, gone.

 

We’ll lose you,

Father Time.

Your rhythm,

And stoic guile.

From ancient history,

To the future files.

New millennia,

Awaiting, gone

 

 

Haiku: We Lost The Sea 

 

Bridges of dreams crossed

The ocean and river spanned

Waters of love found

 

Ivor Steven (c)  June  2019

 

The old moon knows

After a bitterly cold winter

There’s never a false spring

The devil’s apple tree always blossoms

 

The new moon now asks us

About the planet’s every faded sign

Ghosts in the soils dried up cracks

Moon shadows cover sacred grounds

 

However, above a dying old moon

Or below the new moon’s veins

Eve’s love moon, remains alluring

Her moonbeams spoon our imagination

 

Shimmering upon that blue lagoon

Playing the jubilee tune in every lovers bedroom

Love eventually conquers us all

When moon blossom ringlets fall

 

 

Ivor Steven (c)  June 2019

 

He has no shame 

He has no name 

Life for him is a game 

Life for him is someone else’s blame 

He will not be remembered 

He will not be a heavenly member 

He’s full of money and greed 

He’s full of himself, that’s the arrogance of his breed

His narcissistic attitude is growing worse

His growing pool of lies , will eventually stagnate and burst  

 

Ivor Steven (c)  June 2019

The Weekend Photo Challenge, on Weekly Prompts is, Rear  << Click …. Above is my photo of the rear of my unit, in this morning’s fog. And below today’s poem, “The Rear Of Night”

 

My foggy morning, an inky dye

The heavy mist, has kidnapped my sky

Sabotaging my light, the sun disappeared in front of my eyes

The rear of night, has been left with no flight

There’s no start, nor end to my blurred sight

Breathing in moist air, I gasp, were’s the moon ?

Has my gloomy forecast, unravelled too soon

Is this sunless day, the beginning of doom ?

 

 

Ivor Steven (c)  June 2019