It’s the Same Old Blanket

Here in the cemetery

Among her guardian faeries

I kneel with flowers in hand

Wearing a mask and feeling bland

You cannot see my smile

Under my new covering style



Do not be alarmed, I’m no bandit

See under my arm, it’s the same old blanket

That I use to sit down beside you

Where I stay and ramble on about us two

I have two glasses and a bottle of red

For a toast to us, to when next we will be wed



Ivor Steven (c) Sept 2020

Flowers

Over on Weekly Prompts the Wednesday challenge is; Green Thumb. Please go over and visit their fabulous site by clicking >> Here. Today is my/our anniversary day and appropriately my poem for the prompt is called “Flowers”…..


Flowers


can a dream be drowned

by a sinking crown?

weighted down by old flowers

and tiny violets of mysterious power



can a future be found?

above the ashes and ground

blown away by old flowers

as tiny violets cover a crumbling bell tower



can a fading light survive

beyond the gardens empty hive?

can time chime without old flowers

and tiny violets of magical power?



Ivor Steven (c) Sept 2020

We Live in a Funny World

Tuesday Writing Prompt Challenge: Tuesday, September 8, 2020. Today’s prompt: Write a piece of prose or poetry that ends with in the end, we were just a moment.


We Live in a Funny World

Am I feeling funny ha-ha

Or am I a funny la-la?

I cannot put my finger on it

Or am I an alien in orbit?



I am forever wondering

Why the sentinels are not flying

What are they guarding?

Beyond the above

I need to ask the dove

Is there more to life than love?



I eavesdrop in on my own dreams

And listen to voices, so it seems

Jotting down subconscious conversations

Between my miscreations and aberrations



I was in a wet mess in my bedroom

And left my nightshirt in the bathroom

I was drowning in a blue lagoon

And pleading for gentler treatment

Then an angel came with soothing ointment

And in the end, we were just a moment




Ivor Steven (c) Sept 2020

Wonderment Rings True

My imagination’s beaming

Alive and dreaming

Even when I’m sleeping

Tired eyes are peeping

Searching for the milky-way

Flying there, on my open sleigh

And sailing the air-waves

High above broadway



Steering my spacecraft, Itmims**

While reading The Brothers Grimm

And playing a tune on my old violin

The theme from ‘Lord of the Rings’



I’m a visionary sky Pilot

With a handful of violets

Travelling beyond a silvery moon

To float upon our blue lagoon





**Itmims; ”Ivor’s Time Machine In Micro Space”….



Ivor Steven (c) Sept 2020

Imagination

Boldly imagination’s written on the wall

A loud creative sign for us all



Imagination looks beyond the distant horizon

To where a blue sky unites the oceans

Imagination looks above the gathering dark clouds

To where a golden sun dispels all doubts



Imagination looks inside the essence of nature

To where a nurtured animal instinct matures

Imagination looks outside the boundaries of mankind

To where a human mind can thrive nonaligned




Ivor Steven (c) Sept 2020.

Fathers Day in Australia

Today is Fathers Day in Australia, so I’m presenting a few poems that I written about my Dad…..

Waiting Time

I’m a time-traveler on a mission

Waiting for a personal vision

An image of my father’s ghost

To appear above the white-water coast

Millenniums ago, I delivered him to the ocean

Threw his ashes across the horizon

Away from faceless time-clocks

Away from hidden jagged rocks

Now I see him proudly standing afloat

Wondering who’s left to row the boat

Waiting for the breeze, without a sail

Seeking his passage through soundless hail

Beyond tumbling waves, a prism of light

Waiting stops, his alien spirit soars  tonight



There’ll Always Be More

His family, siblings of ten

Then a loving father of four

The king of our den

Always the gentle man at our door

You were our best friend

Now our star forever more



Alex

My trusty guardian

Shamefully

I’ve taken him for granted

That happy old chap

Who faithfully

Protects me

A loyal family friend

He’s always been around

Like an inherited heirloom

His age remains a mystery

He’s stoic and quietly stern

And I dare not ask him

The eternal keeper

Of our ancestral tree

Holder of heavens keys

Guarding life’s comings a goings

Waiting there, under shady leaves

Forever our courtyard centurion




Ivor Steven (c) Sept 2020



Footprints in the Mud


Who really are we?

What does the moon perceive?

Will we ever be free?

What’s our secret quest?

Wading forward through this mess

Alone in silence, I’m clueless



We are all under the same strain

Surrounded by these invisible chains

Are we ready to dance in the rain?

Nothing ventured, nothing gained

The outgoing tide will cleanse our veins

And wash our footprints from these muddy planes





Ivor Steven (c) Sept 2020