The misty dawn sky
Awakes to a human cry
And another day again sighs
Asking who’s left on this sty?
Where viruses thrive
Like wasps in a hive
Doing their aggressive jive
Dancing upon who’s left alive
Leaving a deadly sting
On every apron string
No matter who’s left waiting
Who’ll be left to do the colouring-in?
Who’ll be left to do the highland fling?
Who’ll be left to breathe the new oxygen?
Ivor Steven (c) August 2020
Dear readers and followers, here’s a great opportunity for your writings to be read by other writers, and also to find and meet other writers. You are very welcome to participate, come along and visit our writer friendly site…..
Welcome to Promote Yourself Monday. All Go Dog Go Cafe community members are invited to post one link to one specific piece of their writing (600 words or less please!) they have published on their blog, Facebook page, or Instagram feed into the comments section below.
This Saturday the Weekend Challenge from “Weekly Prompts” is Reflections. Please go over and visit their fabulous site by clicking >> Here . And here’s my poem in response to their prompt.
Mirror, Mirror, Who’s Next to Fall
The magic mirror is fractured
My reflection’s distorted
Warped and scattered
I’m cracked and unstructured
How can I recapture my image
And remodel my smile on a ruptured grimace
Am I to go on suffering from this virus wreckage
Another seven years of covid’s viral messages
Ivor Steven (c) August 2020
A sleeping beauty in her nightwear
Pure honesty lived in our home atmosphere
Her truth breathed, the air we shared
Hiding behind white silent doors
They tried to take her from our shores
By nailing her bed to a hospital floor
They heard my stoic voice roar
I told them, they wouldn’t win
“And watch out!! Don’t throw her in
you’ll surely regret your foolish sin
be warned, she’s Circe the Siren”
When I held her sweetness
I believe I touched greatness
And achieved weightlessness
Ivor Steven (c)
Looking down, I saw a garden bed
Looking closer, beyond the bordering edge
There were glossy emerald leaves
And blooms of springtime violets
Looking up, I saw a misty sky
Looking closer, beyond the sky’s diameter
There were twilight’s glassy stars
And dreams of celestial olive eyes
Ivor Steven (c) August 2020
A special thank you to Derrick Knight for allowing me to use his photograph from yesterday’s article “Wind Swept”, as my Feature Image…. https://derrickjknight.com/2020/08/25/windswept/
Storms and Old Bogeymen
Nature’s winds blew and blew
Erasing blue sky and sun from view
Our fears rattling inside her typhoon
Her storms ferocious howlings
Were foreboding furious growlings
But our gardens survived her violent prowlings
Was nature’s sky beginning to cave-in?
Beneath the pale bones of old bogeymen
Will our collective strength eventually win?
Ivor Steven (c) August 2020
Stumbling out of the ocean
With one eye half open
The other eye half closed
My vision turned cross eyed
I saw only dark skies
And many dirty pig sties
Take the Savior’s pill they said
And leave empty eye-drops for the dead
Ivor Steven (c) August 2020.
A big thank you to Barbara Leonhard, for her excellent ‘podcast’, and I must say I became quite emotional, it was both fascinating and very moving to hear my poems being narrated by Barbara.
I have uploaded an episode featuring Ivor Steven to my poetry podcast, Poetry: The Memoir of the Soul. You can access it here.
https://meelosmom.podbean.com/e/memoirs-of-ivor-steven/
In this episode, I feature the memoirs of Ivor Steven, who writes of his loss of his wife to Multiple Sclerosis. His poems reveal raw and touching grief.
Ivor Stevenformerly worked as anindustrial chemist and a plumber. He is now retired. He has had numerous poems published in on-line magazines such as Vita Brevis, Spillwords, Drabble, Wolff Poetry Journal, Festival of Poetry, Slasher Monster Magazine, and Fae Corps Publishing. Recently he was appointed to the “Go Dog Go Café” magazine’s website teamof Baristas. He is also an active member of the Geelong Writers Inc. and many of his poems are published in their anthologies. He started writing 19 years ago to help with his recovery from a stroke. During this time, and for the 30 years…
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During the blustery tempest light night
The wolves were howling with fright
And the arctic winds blew and blew
But the raging storm did not phase you
Even though your footings were open and bare
Skinless bones exposed to the cold air
Yet still you steadfastly resist the blizzards’ abuse
Defiant and strong, no matter what the news
Valiantly nurturing your mother-tree with true colours
And then daringly feeding your sisters and brothers
Ivor Steven (c) August 2020
Time glides over my writing desk
Isolation days hover within my chest
And to relieve the pressure of this ongoing test
I’ve diligently created a catalogue of my best
From selections of the editors postmortems
A Tullawalla booklet of my published poems
Ivor Steven (c) August 2020
Ivor.Plumber/Poet 