Hello dear readers and followers, I am now writing for “Coffee House Writers” magazine on a fortnightly basis, and my poem “Timeworn”, is in this week’s edition of Coffee House Writers Magazine. …
To Read my poem, please click on the link below to visit the article, at Coffee House Writers Magazine.
>> https://coffeehousewriters.com/timeworn/
“Timeworn” … An interesting song by the French group ‘Wildpath’ to accompany my thought-provoking poem.
Ivor Steven (c) October 2023
Hello dear readers and followers, I now write for “Coffee House Writers” magazine on a fortnightly basis, and my poem “What Happened to Motherland”, is in this week’s edition of Coffee House Writers Magazine. … please click on the link below to read my poem, at Coffee House Writers >>
https://coffeehousewriters.com/what-happened-to-motherland/
Ivor Steven (c) June 2022
Over at Weekly Prompts, the Wednesday Challenge is: Broken Please visit their fabulous site by clicking on >> Here … My appropriate Broken poem is attached below
Broken Ground
I stand here
and look to the east
my tolerant eyes
see an unbroken white moon
in a clear sapphire sky
behind me
from the west
I feel the unbroken golden sun
warm my ancient shoulders
here I am
standing on
middle ground
below me
I hear my broken earth
groan through the cracks
caused by the broken
and unshackled chains of war
Ivor Steven (c) Sept 2023
The Owl and the Dragonfly
above the trees
below the clouds
a dragonfly roams proud and free
beneath nature’s protective shroud
beyond life’s angry crowd
“where wars are not allowed”
decrees the sentinel owl
Ivor Steven (c) Sept 2023
Lately I have posted a few poems about the futility of war … I’m not very accomplished at writing about the wars of the world, I get far too angry and confused to write something sensible, but this is a rather long poem I wrote about my recollections of the “Gulf War” in 1990.
Return the Bullets
The mind awakens to secret cannons shattering my bed
All the violence of the worlds pounding inside my head
The killing and the maiming of all the innocents who fled
What happens when all the little lambs are slaughtered?
When the peoples of all religions and creed are dead
And we cannot return the murdering bullets back into the barrel
I am afraid
The backyard stairway is far too steep to climb
The handrails are way out of reach to find
And the public change-room windows are covered with bars
Now encircling the city hall, the security backdoor is ajar
Entering the marble aisle, the White room appears vacant
And guileful leaders have run, leaving a chasm of gloomy dark
I am wandering
Where to go, the healing house is full of ugly holes
The citizens cowering in shadows behind splintered lighting poles
And the crumbling streets are awash with rivers of leftover blood
Now the warring bosses have to fight amonst themselves
Throwing poison pens and paper darts at each other
Niether bruised nor battered, using ivory towers as cover
I am terrified
The dusty mushroom cloud slowly settles on the barren ground
With sands of distant lands, shifting into every nook and cranny
We need the good Doctor, to help us cure these alien scourges
And foreigners arriving upon waves of our neighbouring seas
The deathly TV images, wrongly implanted for all to see
As the press only gossip and drivel with selfish glee
I am stupefied
The guns of freedom lands haven’t even stopped the cull
Death to friends or foe, no matter, to the rulers from above
Their only rules, the poor and weak to be kept totally downtrodden
One day the surviving meek shall inherit their radioactive dirt
The rich will feast upon their own contaminated bread
But will never return the murdering bullets back into the barrel
Ivor Steven (c) Sept 2023
Why is there always a dark side
When the moon shines so bright
Who’s taking us on this blindfold ride
While our reasoning is out of sight
Why is there always a silver lining
When treacherous clouds are hovering so low
Who’s making the lower world enchanting
While our malignant demons grow and grow
Why do we call them magic mushrooms?
When all they bring is gloom and doom
Who’s controlling this aging Mother
While our pleading hands are hustled undercover
Ivor Steven (c) Sept 2023
Hello dear readers and followers, I am reposting this poem I wrote in July 2022 in response to Eugi’s “Moonwashed Weekly Prompt” – Peaceable … to visit her fabulous site, please click on >> Here
The White Azalea Peace Garden
I stare at the garden plaque
There on the ground
In front of the white Azalea bushes
I sit on the park bench and wonder
Here under a clear blue sky
Why? Does the sun shine on our world
I was born in nineteen fifty one
Here under a broken moon
During the second year of the Korean War
I stand and walk away
Where must I go?
To view the whole of the moon
Hello dear readers and followers, I am now writing for “Coffee House Writers” magazine on a fortnightly basis, and my poem “The Resurrection of Shadows”, is in this week’s edition of Coffee House Writers Magazine. … please click on the link below and visit my poem, at Coffee House Writers Magazine. >> https://coffeehousewriters.com/the-resurrection-of-shadows/
The Resurrection of Shadows
You! It’s time to take cover
Beware! Shadows have changed colour
And are reaching across the ground
Crying to the world, “It’s time to turn around”
Shadows have learned to crawl and walk
In the daylight, they brawl and talk
Shadows are tired of being ignored
And eager to leap off the billboards
Shadows will ascend to fight the evil warlords
And liberate the embattled horde
Ivor Steven (c) August 2023
Today I am presenting another poem that will be appearing in my new book “Until Eyes Hear Sound”. I wrote ‘Flying Bricks of War’ in May 2021, and the poem will be the opening piece in Chapter 6. War! Without Peace
Featured Image Above: Gaza Strip border, Kibbutz Netiv Ha’Asara, Israel © Kai Wiendenhofer
Flying Bricks of War
There is a divisive brick wall
That stands harsh and tall
To stop people breaking their fall
Then the leaders in ivory towers
Ceased talking about peace and flowers
And hurled bricks into that sandy strip
One brick after another brick
Flew from one side to the other
Smashing innocent children and mothers
Flying bricks crumbling into dust
Creating dirty clouds of mistrust
The walls of Babylon fell again
As brick upon brick crushed human brains
Brick upon brick filled the bloody drains
Brick upon brick killed and maimed
Tullawalla is Available From
Jaymah Press:https://www.jaymahpress.com.au/
Ivor Steven: email, ivorrs20@gmail.com
Amazon: search via, ‘Tullawalla by Ivor Steven’
AND
Perceptions is Now Available via:
Amazon: https://amzn.asia/d/4yFHWrT
Jaymah Press: https://www.jaymahpress.com.au/
OR: email me directly for a signed copy – ivorrs20@gmail.com
Ivor Steven (c) July 2023
Featured Images: were taken at the local Kindergarten, where the school’s gardener lovingly maintains the beautiful garden, and she excitedly pointed out that, despite it being the start of winter, there were 2 sunflower plants ‘defying the odds’. and actually thriving and blooming … I smiled at her joyful enthusiasm, however inwardly I was silently weeping for those still suffereing in wartorn Ukraine.
So here today I am reposting “5” of my “Sunflower” poems relating to the “Ukrainian” war.
We Are the Carrier Pigeons
Are our Sunflowers wilting?
Can they survive, prosper, and regrow?
They will need more
Genuine assistance
Our promissory words
And tuneless birdsongs
Are not enough
We cannot forget them
We all need to speak up
Let our world of voices be heard
Draft a poem, a letter
Of protest, today, tomorrow
We are the carrier pigeons
May our messages for peace
Chime over the people of Russia
Defiantly (a Haiku)
Sunflowers do bloom
Through the war of destruction
Bravely defiant
An Unseeded Renewal (a Tanka)
Sunflowers of peace
We have not forgotten you
The war has not stopped
Killing fields are still on fire
Young stems need help to survive
A Banner of Sunflowers
Bann
look!
up there
above the War’s
darkest clouds
there is a blue banner
embroided with sunflowers
swaying
through a hole
in the eastern sky
bearing a message
of ‘Hello’
or is it ‘Goodbye’?
a sweeping reminder
from our Ancestors
“we feel your suffering and pain
from the merciless hard rain
blood filled rivers and cratered plains
smoke filled skylines and cracked windowpanes”
“however, we also know
beyond the broken horizon
the sunflower seeds of hope
will germinate again
and future seeds for peace
will regenerate a new campaign“
Sunflower Seeds (a Tanka)
Blue skies were mellow
Fields were peaceful and yellow
Sunflowers grew free
Then foreign tanks squashed their seeds
On tomorrow’s scarred harrows
Ivor Steven (c) May 2023
Ivor.Plumber/Poet 