Tag: Music

We Sing, and We Sing

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, the drowned
Hold our hollow hearted ground
Til we swallow ourselves down
AgainWe, the ashes,
We spend our days like matches
And burned ourselves as black as
The end.

 

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

 

 

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

A Flower-bed Of Dreams

 

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

Feel The River Flow

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

Arctic Winds

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

 

The Forest Of Doubt

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

Looking Through A Window

What a dull way

To start a poem

“Looking through a window”

I was told by my teacher

If he saw a poem

Beginning with that line

He wouldn’t read the verse

Saying the words were over used
But in all honesty

Here I am

Sitting at my desk

“Looking through a window”
And the sky is a gloomy gray

So what else could I say

About this lonesome day

Another one of solitary downplay
Waiting patiently for a new entree

Writing this empty essay

Listening to the rains crescendo

“Looking through a window”

 

 

Ivor Steven (c)  May 2020

A Violet, and A Blade Of Grass(today)

 

A Violet and A Blade Of Grass

 

Years ago I met a pretty young lady

With hair the colour of autumn leaves

I liked her, and she liked me

And our courtship flourished rapidly

One day we were walking down by the river

Where I casually paused to pick a flower

And I gently placed the violet in her hair

She fondly smiled, and said quietly

“Open your hand, I’ve a gift for you too”

Upon my palm she tenderly placed a blade of grass

“There, that is to signify my eternal love for you”

I blushed and smile, and said proudly

“As mother nature is my witness, I love you”

“And thank you, for this blade of grass”

“I shall treasure your kindness forever”

My heart was pounding, as I steadily took her hand

And uttered the words, “Would you like to marry me”

 

Shine On, Shine On..

Her distant star shines
Walking down by the river
My life’s always fine………..

 

**You may view my poem “It’s Just A Little Dream”, by clicking onto this link >> https://ivors20.wordpress.com/2017/12/18/its-just-a-little-dream-2/

 

Ivor Steven (c)  May 3rd 2020