Poems – Page 207 – Ivor.Plumber/Poet

Eating Our Own Waste

Is It only me ?

that feels this way

my thoughts gushing out to sea

without knowing what to say

our world is being flushed

down the sewer drain

water-rat politicians eating leftover crusts

every-time our dying clouds rain

never ending, poisoning of the bays

strangling plastic bags

suffocating polystyrene trays

wrapped in bloody newspaper flags

animals killed by our waste

governments retain their ego for greed

T.V. and press reports, via copy and paste

while our planet’s going to seed

are we trying our best ?

for the creatures in need

stop, this shitting, on our own nest

how much more can the oceans bleed ?

Ivor Steven (c) July 2019

White Clouds Over Forest Floor Snail Trails

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

Sleeping Beauty

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

By The Waters Edge, (Tullawalla)

In reply to CalmKate’s, Friday Foto Fun Prompt; Uprooted << Click to view Kate’s site…..

By The Waters Edge, (Tullawalla)

Above: The home I lived in, growing up. Above Right: My bachelor’s pad, a first floor apartment

Above: Our home, Carole & I, shared for the next 37 years of togetherness. until her passing

Above: Were I rented for 3 years, with a lady called Sue. Above Right: The next year I boarded here.

Above: The old Tullawalla & the new Tullawalla, Mum & Dad’s, holiday house, and then their retirement home. Me and my brother (Danny) lived there for 6 months, at the end of 2016. And then at start of 2017, I moved my present home.

Above: My home today, the front view, and the back courtyard and verandah

By The Waters Edge, (Tullawalla)

I’m in an isolation cabin

Like a waiting mosquito larva

Ready to burst

Surrounded by sand and sea

And a river mouth

Tidal and free

And I share my daily bread

A piece for you, for her, for them

Thoughts of you

I dream of now, and then

I see your flowered coffin

I’m tangled in a cocoon

Like an angry dragon-fly

Begging to break free

Surrounded by water-grass and weed

Tea-tree and Dunes, far as the eye can see

And a garden bed

Grown from seed

And I share my weekly menu

A piece for you, for her, for them

Thoughts of you

I stare down upon a fallen brave

I see your flowered cave

My Universe

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

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

Black Snow Thaws In The Winter Sun

I went to my favourite lunch-spot today, the Moorabool Valley Chocolate Cafe. I have not walked that far (the weather has been dismal), since I’ve been home from my trip to Philadelphia. Surprisingly I handled the long walk reasonably well. Then I sat down for a coffee and a piece of tasty blue-berry cheese cake. The winter sun was gorgeous, out on the outdoor balcony, and I happily “observed” a pair of Weebill birds, as I continued to write this poem(Below). Also attached, a few photos from my pleasant afternoon observations……

The Weekly Word Prompt is: >> Observation << click to view their site.

Black Snow Thaws In The Winter Sun

I’ve no more secret words of sorrow

Only old lines I’ve borrowed

I found them in a poet’s dusty booklet

The pages were tattered, like grandma’s cookbook

Torn recipes, out of last century’s Gideon’s bible

Of a tongue, ancient and tribal

Shadowy scriptures that now appear outdated

Erased from my sacred tablet

Years of love and dreams desecrated

Thrown away, but prudently not wasted

My road ahead is now cleared of black snow

The night is not always black, you know ?

Ivor Steven (c) June 2019

An Open Mic Evening

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

Moon Blossom

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

A Lame Horse With No Name

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