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
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
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
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
In the misty rain
Remembering heavy clouds
Loaded full of tears
Ivor Steven (c) March 2022
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
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
Featured Image Above: with the kind permission of Derrick Knight >> https://derrickjknight.com/
The ediditor of Red Wolf Journal, Irene Toh, is pleased to announce the release of the Spring 2022 Issue.
The poets with work in the A Change of World edition are:
Dmitry Blizniuk
Paul Brooke
Jeff Burt
Joe Cottonwood
CS Crowe
Mary Anna Scenga Kruch
Ron. Lavalette
Joan Mazza
Karla Linn Merrifield
Peter Mladinic
Misky
Larry Oakner
Frederick Pollack
Emalisa Rose
Timothy Resau
Rikki Santer
Emil Sinclair
Ivor Steven
Debi Swim
You may download a copy of the PDF release here.
A Change of World Spring 2022 Issue 20
____________________________________________________________________________________
You’re invited to submit to our new issue, also titled A Change of World, Fall 2022 Edition. Read our submission guidelines here. Happy writing!
Irene Toh
Editor
Spring 2022 Edition
_____________________________________________________________________________________
A sincere thank you to the editor Irene, for considering two my of poems for her superb anthology “A Change Of World”
New Mushrooms
After the storm
Old boundaries were transformed
Fences were moved and torn
Fields smelled of rotting corn
Patient vultures remained airborne
Above the drowning longhorn’s
After the storm
I rested under the peppercorn
And I saw new mushrooms rise with the dawn
Ivor Steven (c) February 2022
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?
Featured Image: From Genius Lyrics. Tom Waits – Hell Broke Luce Lyrics | Genius Lyrics
“Hell Broke Luce”, by Tom Waits
I had a good home but I left
I had a good home but I left, right, left
That big fucking bomb made me deaf, deaf
A Humvee mechanic put his Kevlar on wrong
I guarantee you’ll meet up with a suicide bomb
Hell broke luce
Hell broke luce
Big fucking ditches in the middle of the road
You pay a hundred dollars just for fillin’ in the hole
Listen to the general every goddamn word
How many ways can you polish up a turd
Left, right, left, left, right
Left, right
Hell broke luce
Hell broke luce
Hell broke luce
How is it that the only ones responsible for making this mess
Got their sorry asses stapled to a goddamn desk
Hell broke luce
Hell broke luce
Left, right, left
What did you do before the war?
I was a chef, I was a chef
What was your name?
It was Geoff, Geoff
I lost my buddy and I wept, wept
I come down from the meth
So I slept, slept
I had a good home but I left, left
Pantsed at the wind for a joke
I pranced right in with the dope
Glanced at her shin she said nope
Left, right, left
Nimrod Bodfish have you any wool
Get me another body bag the body bag’s full
My face was scorched, scorched
I miss my home I miss my porch, porch
Left, right, left
Can I go home in March? March
My stanch was a chin full of soap
That rancid dinner with the pope
Left, right, left
Kelly Presutto got his thumbs blown off
Sergio’s developing a real bad cough
Sergio’s developing a real bad cough
Hell broke luce
Hell broke luce
Hell broke luce
Boom went his head away
And boom went Valerie
What the hell was it that the president said?
Give him a beautiful parade instead
Left, right, left
When I was over here I never got to vote
I left my arm in my coat
My mom she died and never wrote
We sat by the fire and ate a goat
Just before he died he had a toke
Now I’m home and I’m blind
And I’m broke
What is next
Lyrics by Tom
Ivor Steven …
Ivor.Plumber/Poet 