Tag: Anti-war

Putin … Would You


I would surrender my poetic soul to you 

If that could hand you compassion? 

To help you stop your war


I would offer my shattered heart to you 

If you are needing a piece of heart?  

To help you stop your war


I would remove my crying eyes 

and stay blind to you 

If your ego is looking for guidance? 

To help you stop your war


President Putin
 
Have you a shred of decency? 

Left inside your arrogant mind


Would you? 

Desert your grandchildren 

And Evict them to be

Homeless and frightened






Ivor Steven (c) March 2022

The Children’s Empty Streets



Do they hear humanity’s fears?

Will that day come?

When all the big ears

Will listen as one


How many rivers of tears must we cry?

Before all our deepest wells run dry

How many innocent children must fall?

Before all the big ears hear their helpless calls


That wounded haunting drawl

The ghostly scrapping sound of homeless feet

Mournfully shuffling along their bombarded streets






Ivor Steven (c) March 2022

Innocent Millipedes




Please Mr Shootin’ Putin

Do not roll your tanks of destruction

Over the innocent Mr & Mrs Millipede

Millipedes were the earliest animals to breathe air

And make the move from water to land

They date back 428 million years

Now people of the world cannot hold back their tears


Did you know Mr Shootin’ Putin

That Millipedes are fairly timid critters

Docile decomposers that live in the leaf litter

Of forests all over the world!

They aren’t flashy or fast

And they follow the motto

“Slow and steady wins the race”

Millipedes are peaceful

They don’t bite

They can’t sting

And they don’t have pincers to fight back




Please Mr Shootin’ Putin

Do not roll your tanks of destruction

Over the innocence of creation






Ivor Steven (c) March 2022

Red Lilies Under Broken Ground, is up at Coffee House Writers magazine

Hello dear readers and followers, as you may know, I now write for “Coffee House Writers” magazine on a fortnightly basis, and my poem “Red Lilies Under Broken Ground”, is in this weeks edition of Coffee House Writers Magazine. … please click on the link below to read my poem, at Coffee House Writers >>
https://coffeehousewriters.com/red-lilies-under-broken-ground/






Ivor Steven (c) March 2022

The Disappearance of Decency


Introduction

Naked I stand before Him
Stripped of common decency
Debased, I kneel crying
Sad words fall like rain
Tanks are still rolling
Over the Ukraine
My Tanka’s are scrolling
Down their bloody drains



Tanka #1. Sad Sky

False words smudge old clouds
Gray clouds hang under sad sky
The sad sky decries
“Children are our butterflies
And please stop the warring lies”


Tanka #2. Broken Biscuits

Life is imperfect 
Like broken war-time biscuits 
Re-connection waits 
Reconciliation stops 
Life’s sweet shortbread’s unopened 


Tanka #3. Abandoned

May the stormy winds
Calmly abate in Europe
And bring peace quickly
Do not forget the children
We cannot abandon them


Epilogue

Cover me
Give me beauty
Inspire me
Calm me
Save me
From that deadly bee
Above the Black Sea








Ivor Steven (c) March 2022

Tomorrow’s Shadows, (a Haiku)

A big thank you to David Repath and Timothy Price for jointly inspiring to write this Haiku, https://offcenternoteven.com/2022/03/05/ukrainian-daze/ and for Timothy’s stunning music/video



Tomorrow’s Shadows


Shadows of today

Precede tomorrow’s darkest clouds

Silhouettes of doom







Ivor Steven (c) March 2022

The Gates of Hell Over Stolen Ground




Do you feel the weight?

Of radio-active clouds

Hanging over stolen ground

Do you hear the birds singing?

Gone!

Is that peaceful sound


Do you hear warning sirens howl?

Resonating like old war songs

When bombs are guided into sacred ground

Fires from hell destroying beds and towns

Gone!

As ashen children wander over burnt ground


Home is a communal air-raid shelter

Where families fearfully huddle together underground

Above!

The torn loyalties of alien soldiers

Tread lightly and warily upon broken ground






Ivor Steven (c) March 2022

On The Banks of Lake Connewarre




I am not here to wait

For the world to finally rotate

Time for me is getting late

I am here to watch the grand parade

Eventually pass by my front gate


One day soon

After the next purple moon

Illuminates our children’s fearful tears

I will see those grandiose leaders

Calmly sit down together

On the peaceful banks

Of Lake Connewarre*


Connewarre; an Aboriginal word meaning ‘black swan’







Ivor Steven (c) February 2022

A World Of Puppets (a Tanka)

Featured Image Above: by Derrick Knight, who kindly allows me to reproduce his photos here on my poetry website …

A World Of Puppets (a Tanka)




Are we the puppets?

Punch and Judy’s without strings

Who’s contolling things?

As Putin’s a dummy too

Ask the children in Russia






Ivor Steven (c) February 2022

Bloody Tears, Bloody History



Can you hear the ghosts of Sunday?

“Sunday, Bloody Sunday”


From your distant country’s

On the edge of peace and tranquility

Within your rural trees of serenity


Beyond invisible borders of rivalry

Between oblivious inequality

From the old schoolyard bully

Overseeing an avoidable atrocity


Again another “Sunday, Bloody Sunday”

How can they forget history so quickly?