My stomachs rumbling
Upset and tumbling
I’ve been swallowing lumps of dark chocolate
And guzzling black coffee from stained goblets
The grey smokey clouds of yesterday
Have stuck around like muddy brown clay
Has this captain midnight moved into stay?
Will charcoal pencils write about peace today?
Ivor Steven (c) June 2020
.
My smokey eyes have been faltering
Sad necessary tears have me wavering
Looking down the knife-edges
Balancing on red cliff-edges
.
How will the fog of darkness be lifted?
From angry souls that have drifted
Mirror, mirror, who’s the saddest
Mirror, mirror, where is forgiveness
.
The heart-breakers came around
Killing a black-rose on the ground
Deep down we all feel hollow
And none can see the peace-smoke halo
.
.
Ivor Steven (c) June 2020
Is there a song?
Between who is sad, and who is wrong
Beyond this prolonged swan song
How long, is too long?
Along these throngs of torch songs
Headstrong, and head-on
We know their theme song
We are all in the wrong
Oh. We, are the wrong
Listen to the birdsong
Listen to her lifelong song
Listen to nature humming along
Ivor Steven (c) May 2020.
“We, The Drowned”, Lyrics by Lisa Hannigan
We know not the fire in which we burn
But we sing and we sing
And the flames grow higher.
We read not the pages which we turn
But we sing, and we sing, and we sing, and we sing
We, the wrong,
We the sewn up and long gone,
Were before and all along
Like this
We, the drowned
The lost and found out,
We are all finished again.
Opening a Can of Flammable Worms. A ‘Gogyohka’
Anger ignites smoldering flames
A white-man’s racist hatred to blame
The volatile reaction follows
Requiring a King’s pacifying halo
Not a cane, you stupid man
Gogyohka, (pronounced go-gee-yoh–kuh), was created by Enta Kusakabe in Japan. It is a “five-line poem” or “song” with no no fixed syllable pattern. It can be written on any subject and use of ordinary, simple language is encouraged.
Ivor Steven (c) May 2020
Death is not our fault
Lets blame others for our shame
Scapegoats are great bait
.
Please Note: The featured image above, is called ‘Four Birds’, by an Australian artist, Patsy Anguburra Lulpunda, at the Aboriginal Art Gallery
.
Ivor Steven (c) May 2020.
Have We Learnt. A Haiku
Are we hand in hand
With hearts joined, ready to start
A new wisdom age
Ivor Steven (c) May 2020
A Flower-bed Of Dreams
The clouds parted, exposing a river bright blue
My hazy visions, suddenly became true
I’m standing in a flower-bed of dreams
I see strawberry fields covered in sun-beams
My veins feel like bubbling mountain streams
The family circle, has my heart bursting at the seams
Ivor Steven (c) April 2019
This time last year I was in Philadelphia, visiting my cousins and their families (their children & grand-children), and enjoying the “time of my life”
Feel The River Flow
There’s more to see, and things to do
Steel bridges and worn cobblestones
Wide rivers and heavy highways
Waterfront piers and riverside parks
Ancient history and old monuments
Suburban Philadelphia and New Jersey cross-overs
Faraway cousins and new family’s found
Niece’s, nephews and grandchildren abound
Greeting hugs and welcoming hearts
Blissful times and precious memories
Ivor Steven (c) May 2019
Hello dear readers, I’m taking a much needed rest and recharge break from writing….. and today I’m presenting this older poem… as a wintry blast rattled my door last night
Today’s poem is one I wrote three years ago, and I was fortunate enough to have the piece published by, ‘Vita Brevis Poetry Magazine’, back in January 2018, a literary magazine for poets, and to all my readers/followers, I sincerely recommend that you visit/follow the Vita Brevis site,
https://vitabrevisliterature.com.
Artwork: By Kerri Costello, Graphic Design Artist, my beautiful niece/second cousin, who lives in Philadelphia, she’s so very talented, and a very special person in my life, thank you Kerri.
Arctic Winds
I’m winter hibernating
Inside an Eskimo’s hut
Feeding only on fish oil
And frozen blue blood
My heart’s cold and dormant
Cowering under a dampened vestment
Wind-swept by a blizzard’s dust
Covered in icicles of my rust
My eyes are swollen rocks
Amidst polarised sockets
Terrorising all that’s passed
Like forgotten arctic icebergs
My veins are hollow crevasses
Inside a glaciers ice-flow
Sheering and groaning chasms
Like my memories deepest fjord
Ivor Steven (c) May 2020
This Saturday, the weekend challenge on Weekly Prompts is: Walkabout. Please go over and visit their fabulous site by clicking >> HERE. And below is my response their prompt.
The Forest Of Doubt
Tonight, after dusk
I’ll be in the dark forest of Doubt
On a mystical walkabout
To find those elusive faeries
With their wings of mysterious star-dust
And I shall fill my empty pockets
Ready for Mothers Day tomorrow
Whereupon I’ll spread the magical sparkles
One handful on my mother’s headstone
The second one on my wife’s grave site
And as the same as other years gone by
For us, the faeries willing share their night
Ivor Steven (c) May 2020
Ivor.Plumber/Poet 