Sharing the Sun

I’m waiting for Aine’s promise

On an outdoor setting of the Box Office

My open eyes don’t see lies

The white icing is only a disguise

Reality lays under the glossy lid

Hiding a secret taste of apple and fig

Together, we’re sharing the sun’s halo

A warm circle of iridescent yellow

Divinely shiny, fresh and mellow

A glorious treat for me to swallow

 

Aine- In Irish mythology, Áine, is the summer sun. Áine is the goddess of wealth, with power over crops and animals and she is sometimes represented by a red horse.

 

 

Ivor Steven (c)  June 2020

Lost, Without a Compass

Lost and isolated, without a compass

Below the dome of justice

Inside the great white shed

Behind faceless masks of dread

Hides a secret constitution misread

And under fire the penguin wears two heads

 

The curtain of the sacred temple

Has been torn down the middle

A shredded divide, created by design

The devils’ chasm, now cleverly enshrined

 

 

Ivor Steven (c)  June 2020

Our World, Air For Us All

I posted this poem yesterday evening, I’m republishing today, without the ‘Links/Pingbacks’…  and I’m adding another old ‘Bee Gees’ song “Words”, which seems to be appropriate for my poem here, which basically, is only ‘words’ from my pondering thoughts.

 

 

Our World, Air For Us All

 

What grows up

Eternally falls to ground

What’s absorbed in

Eventually seeps out

 

Did you hear the sound?

The world is round

 

But is the universe a square?

As we struggle to breathe in our share

Did you hear there’s enough air for us all?

So why cry before we’ve learnt how to crawl?

 

 

 

Ivor Steven (c)  June 2020

Lost In Space

Above, my bedroom space this morning….I’m also linking this poem to “Fae Corps Inc” for their ‘Indie Wednesday’ article, and you may visit their creative site by clicking >Here

 

Lost In Space

 

I’m leaving this land of lost grace

And flying off into space

It’s time to run-away

My airship left yesterday

 

Love is a stowaway in the heart

And love needs a head start

Somewhere in this universe

There’s love in the shepherd’s purse

 

 

Ivor Steven (c)  June 2020

 

Hills and Valleys

“There’s sweetness in the winter sunlight”  … Ivor Steven

This weekend the challenge on Weekly Prompts is; Dessert. …..Please go over and visit their fabulous site, by clicking >>Here.  My poem below is about the sweetness of waking up, after a moment of darkness, and the sudden realisation, that I’m still alive.. !!

 

Hills and Valleys

 

Far beyond the maddening crowds

Falling through the darkening clouds

My sacred message did arrive

And the neon sign said, “You’re safe and alive”

 

Again, I managed to survive

As my celestial angel glided by

Glowing upon the gilded wings of her dove

And loudly singing, she cried, “Don’t give up, my love”

 

Soaring above, she left me a feather

A quill to use, during my valley of rough weather

Her gentle persuasive reminder

To keep on writing, my own agenda

 

Life does matter, despite the hill’s jumbled mess

And there will be a deliverance from this jungle of stress

 

 

Ivor Steven (c)  June 2020

The Sun Arose Again, by Ivor Steven

A wonderful surprise for me this morning and a lovely pick-me-up, to find that my poem “The Sun Arose Again”, had been published at ‘Red Wolf Journal’, and thank you to the editor, Irene, for her kind consideration of my submission…

Irene's avatarRed Wolf Journal

The Sun Arose Again
by Ivor Steven

There must be a number of silent masks around
Yesterday an old mask flew away at the speed of sound
From behind, the real pieces of what we perceive
Are leftover bones, bleached by sky and sea
Where the worn pebbles lingering in the hand
Fall gently upon lines drawn in the sand
And these new beginnings could be a heavenly gift
As white doves soar above the mourning cliffs

Perhaps the next awakening will be a peaceful one
Full of friendly compassion and wisdom
I’m lucky today, the sun arose again
To light up the hallway, despite the rain
I’ll be the first one to walk out the door
And the only one left here, to see her valour

Ivor Steven was formerly an Industrial Chemist, then a Plumber, and has been writing poetry for 19 years. He has had numerous poems…

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A Crooked Lightning Bolt

Walking this burning deck

Life’s becoming a pain in the neck

Where’s that healing pill

A wellness, instead of this daily swill

Dribbling out of the great white one

Carrying on like a piece of dung

Crazy statements like, “Drink Dettol”

Spewing from his cake-hole

And stupidly, “You loot, we’ll shoot”

Sickly crap off his swanky boots

With a raised Bible in hand

A crooked lightning bolt struck our land

 

 

Ivor Steven (c)  June 2020

 

Tell Humpty Dumpty

Here’s a poem I wrote 14 months ago, and strangely enough, the words are again very appropriate today…..

And today the warm midday winter sunshine, is a caressing light above my “Shangri La”.

 

Tell Humpty Dumpty

 

I’m feelin’ groovy

Rockin’

Without reeling

Like a soft shoe shuffle

Floating on air

Without a stumble

No crumbling or tumbling

Tell Humpty Dumpty

To hold the horses

And the kings soldiers

I’ve found my extra pieces

On the other side of the fence

I’ve fallen on my feet

Like a cat with nine lives

Lucky as a four leaf clover

Like a minstrel boy and his violin lover

 

 

 

Ivor Steven (c)  June 2020

Saved By the Bell

tues-prompt

https://godoggocafe.com/2020/06/16/tuesday-writing-prompt-challenge-tuesday-june-16-2020/

Today’s prompt: Write a piece of prose around the word: “sirens”, and I’m afraid that this poem I wrote 4 hours ago, actually turned into reality for me me at noon today… Luckily I’m now back home from hospital and I’m ok…

 

Saved By The Bell

 

Within my dark maze

I could hear a loud siren

In my rigid daze

I am a rock, I am an island

 

Laying length-ways

Prone on the floor

A bang rang in my subconscious haze

And smashing through the door

 

They came to rescue me

Greeted by my teary gaze

I was vaguely all at sea

And unable to cry g’day

 

I had fallen off my cloud

Into a vacant water-well

Covered by a warm grey shroud

Oblivious to those sirens and bells

 

 

 

Ivor Steven (c)  June 2020