Fantasy – Page 3 – Ivor.Plumber/Poet

My Neighbour Wasn’t Mowing His Lawn, (Tullawalla, page 144

My Neighbour Wasn’t Mowing His Lawn (Tullawalla, page 144)

I saw a broad sign, painted by His hand

the words, I did not understand

I thought why? Put another brick in wall

ascending the crooked ladder, too afraid to fall

there I stood alone, and stared

above the galaxy’s glare

my retinas were burning

last night’s moon had fallen

beyond the broad blue dawn

and my neighbour wasn’t mowing his lawn

I then saw in our narrowing crevasse

the universe, in a blade of grass

Ivor Steven © October 2022

A Nomad (Revised)

A poem I originally wrote in July 2019, and today I am posting this revised version.

A Nomad (Revised)

I’m writing a letter to yesterday’s nomad

The drifter of my dreams, alone and sad

My nomad’s world is flowing wider

Broken trees floating on a flooding river

These empty words, today seem drier

The receding waters, now a wet season’s Indian giver

This final message, I falsely send

We shake hands, smile, our eyes pretend

My heart sinks, my nomad boards the next boat

Noah’s ark departs, I walk home, alone, in my raincoat

Ivor Steven (c) September 2022

My Alien Eyes Have Seen Enough

This is one of my ranting/protesting poems, where the world’s weird ways and woes are vividly pictured in my dreams/nightmares … (June 2019) … Or maybe my ‘Alien Back Pain’ has me angry and grumpy, and I am just desperate for some interplanetary respite.

My Alien Eyes Have Seen Enough

I’m scattering stardust, upon sorrow and grace

Tip toeing through a desert of dying tulips

Before my species vacate this miserable place

Blasting away from here, in my Itmims* spaceship

Flying back into the depths of dark space

To regenerate and revive, from this trying trip

Sadly, we gathered nothing of any value

From this warring human race

Their radioactive sky, was once bright blue

Vast oceans are full of their own waste

They breathe thin air made of sticky glue

And the earth they walk on, is a garbage tip disgrace

Their concrete graveyards, are the warlords database

Women and children, dead, casualties of religious lunatics

My alien eyes have seen enough, I’m leaving without a trace

Political gamer’s never learn, they’re still reusing old septic ice-picks

*Ivor’s Time Machine In Micro Space

Ivor Steven (c) June 2019

Towards the Dark (my Nightmare)

A nightmarish hypothetical poem and some of the words are from comments I made on Bart’s and Sadje’s recent posts .. > https://bartbarkerpoet.com/2022/07/15/fraiku-first-lights/
.. > https://lifeafter50forwomen.com/2022/07/13/one-liner-strength/

Featured Image: Photo from the JWST

Towards the Dark (my Nightmare)

One day soon

After mining the earth dry

There will no more rubies

No more diamonds in the sky

Will our silver spoons

Ever stop digging

Towards the dark side of our moon

Tonight, we do not need

Our world to be darker

We can learn to survive

When life teaches us

The value of being alive

Ivor Steven (c) July 2022

Faerie Runnels

Last week when I was visiting Eugenia’s fabulous site >> https://amanpan.com/2022/06/23/my-journey-thrives/
she introduced me to a Poetry Format, called a “Mariannet”, and I thought I would try to write one … The mariannet is an isosyllabic rhyming poem, consisting of one or more five-line stanzas (quintains) with one syllable in the first line, three in the second, nine in the third, six in the fourth, and eight in the fifth and final line. The first two lines rhyme with each other, and so does the third and fourth, but the fifth is nonrhyming and does not rhyme with any other lines. Thus its rhyme scheme can be expressed as aabbx for each individual quintain (with x representing the nonrhyming line). In Moore’s original formatting of the form, the third and fourth lines were indented five spaces and the fifth ten spaces. … Below is my fun Mariannet,

The Featured Image Above, and the photo on the left below, and from Derrick Knight’s fabulous site >> https://derrickjknight.com/2022/06/24/too-close/

Faerie Runnels

Brave

The dark cave

…..Chase the faeries down the tunnel

…..Find their magic runnel

……….A hidden spring full of sparkle

Dare

Be aware

…..Sip from their bubbling fountain of youth

…..One nip of ancient truth

……….And your dreams will turn into dust

Ivor Steven © June 2022

My Kite And Bike (Revised)

Here I am in this ancient town

Climbing the local Snowy Mountains

Standing in the world’s greenest paddock

Flying my yellow and blue kite

On the thinnest of worn threads

My kite is soaring higher and higher

Toward the bold clouds, thick and soft

Where pristine snowflakes abound

All bright and shiny white

Smooth enough to ride my silver bike on

Peddle my way over today’s slippery black-ice

And splash through the heights of tomorrow

Ivor Steven (c) May 2022

Rolling On By (Revised)

I wrote this poem while I was on a Pacific cruise to the New Calendonian Islands, in April 2018. We only had one rough day, but that managed to influence me enough, to pen this dreamy piece that night …

Rolling On By

I am swishing and swirling

splashing and crashing

up and down

I am thrown aground

stumbling around

swaying under her calming horizon

she soothes my rough landing

caresses my awakening eyes

dazed, I knowingly smile

and watch her wings wave goodbye