I eat, I drink, I sleep
I casually dream of yesterday’s
I Shamefully wonder about tomorrow’s
I’m walking along my sunny street
I’m alive and free as a bird
But I’m anxiously emotional about tomorrow
Will the children wake-up without crying
Will the children see sunlight today
Will the children be with their parents tomorrow
Where are the mindless sleeping
Where are their consciences today
Where are their lies going tomorrow
Ivor Steven (c) 2018
Do you see above the horizon
A bright white winter moon
Silhouetted against the afternoon sky
Do you see my vision
A dark blue dusk, like a cloudless spoon
Cupping my angels ivory chalice ahigh
Ivor Steven (c) 2018
In my hand I hold a beam
The smallest of silver screens
Reflecting my hidden dreams
My pocket mirror of silent screams
Shamefully I’m blushing blood red
Deeply scolding myself instead
Selfishly my crash is but a drop in the ocean
Seeing rivers of crushed tears dripping from the children
Children alone, yet to be reunited
Children trashed and yet unsighted
Ivor Steven (c) 2018
Do you see my mess
I do confess
I’m computerless
Do you know my address
I’m writing on slate
You’ll have to wait
My pigeon will be late
I’m using my old phone
Working fingers to the bone
Words are like stones
Without a home
Do you know the score
No music any more
I slam my studio door
Leaving pools of notes on the floor
Ivor Steven (c) 2018
Weekly Prompts. Word Prompt. Advantage
When it’s so hard to get out of my warm bed
I force myself to throw the sheets off
And I face another day again
When the light doesn’t go on above my head
I replace the globe and flick the switch
And I see Again
When my shower hot water turns cold
I patiently wait for the boiler to reheat
And I shall be ready again
When the toaster burns my bread
I turn the grey dial down to three
And I restart again
When the kettle runs bone dry
I dutifully refill the jug
And enjoy a cuppa’ again
When breakfast is done and it’s time to run
I feel the advantage of being alive
And I smile at my world again
Ivor Steven (c) 2018
It’s my birthday today(67) and I’m giving my gifts to the children, and posting this song for “The Lost Children” suffering in our world
“”The Stolen Child” was released in 1988 on The Waterboy’s album, Fisherman’s Blues. The song includes lyrics by Yeates and a beautiful lilting melody….making for one of my favorites on an album chocked full of classic Waterboys tunes! The lyrics are mystical and strange…it’s lovely the way they string together….how amazing are the images and flow of this poem? Remastered audio! The poem was written in 1886 and is considered to be one of Yeats’s more notable early poems. The poem is based on Irish legend and concerns faeries beguiling a child to come away with them. Yeats had a great interest in Irish mythology about faeries resulting in his publication of Fairy and Folk Tales of the Irish Peasantry in 1888 and Fairy Folk Tales of Ireland in 1892. The places mentioned in the poem are in Leitrim and Sligo where Yeats spent much of his childhood.” Taken from the information attached to the below video
Come away human child to the water
Come away human child to the water and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand
For the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand
Where dips the rocky highland
Of Sleuth Wood in the lake
There lies the leafy island
Where flapping herons wake the drowsy water rats
There we’ve hid our faery vats full of berries
And of reddest stolen cherries
Come away, human child to the water
Come away, human child to the water and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand
For the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand
Where the wave of moonlight glosses
The dim gray sands with light
Far off by furthest roses, we foot it all the night
Weaving olden dances, mingling hands and mingling glances
Till the moon has taken flight
To and fro we leap, chase the frothy bubbles
While the world is full of troubles and is anxious in it’s sleep
Come away, human child to the water
Come away, human child to the water and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand
For the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand
Where the wandering water gushes from the hills above Glen-Car
And pools among the rushes that scarce could bathe a star
We seek for slumbering trout and whispering in their ears
We give them unquiet dreams
Leaning softly out from ferns that drop their tears
Over the young streams
Away with us he’s going, the solemn eyed
He’ll hear no more the lowing of the calves on the warm hillside
Or the kettle on the hob, sing peace into his breast
Or see the brown mice bob around and around the oatmeal chest
For he comes, the human child to the water
He comes, the human child to the water and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand
From a world more full of weeping than you can understand
Human child, human child
With a faery, hand in hand
From a world more full of weeping than you can understand
Than you can understand, you can understand
I’m hooked on this song today, maybe because I’m another year older tomorrow, and I’m feeling I’m getting closer to where ever I’m going. It’s been a cold winter, and I’m feeling like a splinter in amongst the forest timbers, and my written words are only tear drops on the childrens cheeks.
There was a raging storm last night, I struggled to sleep, I was in and out of my dreams, and during my semi-conscious times, I jotted down these lines.
I remember the day
Like it was yesterday
A cold morning, ten o’clock
I, a shadow in the paddock
Standing beside a giant pylon
I looked up to heaven
Straight up the tower
The tower of power
Crosses of galvanized iron
Shiny under the winter sun
Wind whistling through its huge steel web
Howling like hades walking dead
And demons screaming in my head
My spirit begun climbing the spire
Clambering higher and higher
Up the pyramid of life’s wires
Desperate, I grasp at my ultimate desire
A visionary mission before I die
To embrace a piece of my angels sky
To the amazing Leonard Cohen, I thank you for being the inspiration behind my writings, over and over your words and songs have soothed the depths of my soul, and again you’ve caressed my heart during my times of sorrow, bless you, up there in your tower of song.
Ivor Steven (c) 2018
I’m having wordpress problems, and some of my blog comments are flying off into spam, or they’re still out there in cyberspace somewhere. So my apologies to all my friends out there who are not up in space. Please have a look in your spam comments, Ivor’s normal comments may well be there.
Cheers
Ivor. plumber/poet
WEEKLY PROMPTS, PHOTO CHALLENGE
Our Photo Challenge is , Bucolic
I live on the out-skirts of Geelong, and the city is a reasonable size with a population of 240,000. But here I am, virtually on the town’s northwestern back fence, and only a dead-end dirt road is outside my front door.
The back fences of north-west Geelong The dirt lane outside my home.
At the end of my dirt lane is a walking path that I use frequently. I can walk to my favourite coffee venue, The Moorabool Valley Chocolate Cafe, set in a rustic homestead with a beautiful view over the Moorabool River Valley. Attached link is a poem about the cafe. https://ivors20.wordpress.com/2017/10/15/cheeky-magpie/
The view over the Moorabool Valley Sunset along the walking path
The featured image at the beginning of the post is of our local mountain ranges, called the You-Yangs. Here the picture is taken from Geelong’s Eastern Park/Botanical Gardens, looking across Corio Bay towards the You-Yangs.
A Slide-show of pictures from around our City By The Bay
Ivor Steven (c) 2018
Ivor.Plumber/Poet 