Poems – Page 219 – Ivor.Plumber/Poet

Beyond Sunset

The day here is very hot again, hot enough to fry an egg on my front window sill, 107’F, at midday !! I found this poem that I posted last year on February 25th, it must’ve been hot back then too. I hope you enjoy the re-run.

Gradually the dying moonlight awakened my dawn

And the baptizing sunrise watered my eyes

Drowning the working hours of my shallow day

Dampening fiery thoughts of playing in the hay

Dusk hazily shrouds my cemetery lawn

And the rituals of sunset beckon my evening plight

Flailing and falling upon sleepless night

Finally laying prone under my weighted crown

Hear The Thunder

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

Rainbows In The Sky

How blue can our blue sky beam

Before the sun’s fireball burst at the seams

The day is hotter than a smith’s melting pot

During the heat did mother earth lose the plot

All her rainbows have vapourised and waved us goodbye

The hidden gold has been stolen by the lord of the flies

There’s a cloudless horizon, as far as eyes can see

Even too hot for the industrious garden bees

Yorkie stands square, with a blazing black seat

Not to be sat on, like a boiling iron roofing sheet

Time to give the roasting body a rest

Lie down with a cooling fan, blowing over the chest

A Midday Sun

We have had weeks of blue skies and summer sunshine down here in Geelong, and there’s lots more to come they say. I thought I’d repost this poem of mine from January last year, and for you northern hemisphere readers, maybe it’ll warm you up a bit

A Midday Sun

Have you ever looked up at a Midday Sun

Shining through the weeping forest canopies

A golden glowing furnace, that’s larger than life

Glaring down, from there above

Have you ever flown up to touch the Midday Sun

Travelling through that deep blue sky and beyond

A vortex of colour, reflections of rainbows

Cascading down, from there above

Have you ever been blinded by the Midday Sun

By that purity of brilliant white

Forcing your singed eyelids to shut tight

The Corona’s fiery circles intensely bright

An Angels alluring halo of silvery light

Enchanting to your mesmerized sight

Encapsulating a lovers first flight

And burning your heart’s delights

Pakington Street

These sore ageing feet

Have been pounding the beat

Up and down, picturesque Pakington Street

Worn out soles are feeling the heat

This old soul has stopped for a sandwich to eat

Up beyond West Park, they’ll be a comfy seat

And a refreshing drink of chai latte and sweets

At the Depot Cafe, quaint and neat

A satisfying lunch, now I’m replete

Relaxed, and exercise complete

A few more pictures from my walk up and down, Pakington Street.

Pushing Yorkie Higher

Struggling with a shaky pen stroke

I’ve lost secret words, I wrote

An ill wind, sent them flying out the door

Misread and missing a music score

Scrawled along lines of my crooked path

Curling up, and falling in the draft

Sinking into a world I cannot see

An impossible mission for you and me

Crossing hostile foreign lands

Walking through deserts on my hands

Swimming turbulent oceans

Climbing jagged snowy mountains

Pushing on my bike, higher than high

Soaring over dark cloudy skies

Until finally, I found where dreams die

On her heavenly garden seat, she lies

Beyond The Brick Wall

My time’s feeling lost and unrequired

Yesterday, I was worn and tired

Today, I did reach for the sky

Tomorrow, I’ll give life another try

Yesterday, I hit the brick wall

Today, I jumped every puddle

Tomorrow, hurdles will be castles in the sand

Everyday, my unknown future lays in my hands

Every-week, my dream looks like potter’s clay

Today, I uncovered tomorrow is the next day

Tomorrow, is not my vision of times to come

Tomorrow, is the beginning of my shining sun

Calmness On The Bay

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

A Picture Story

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

Day Lily And Love

Hello readers, I’m posting a poem I wrote last year, about my lovely Day Lily, which is actually a former plant of my father’s, so really I’ve lovingly inherited the flower, and I’m always pleased to see it bloom. I’m not sure why, but it’s flowering 4 weeks earlier than last year.

Upon my pillow I sleep

Good morning, I do peek

From the cushion of my dreams

A pads radiating beams

Blushing red hues, oh so bright

You bloom during the night

After cuddling the dew

You open up your scenic view.

Flowering, standing proud and steep

Perfection at my feet

A glorious Lily, like wings of a dove

And by Day you air your love