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
This week’s challenge on Weekly Prompts is: MISSING. Please go over and visit their fabulous site by clicking on >> Here .. and my Limerick below is in response to the prompt ‘Missing’
Who Has The Foggiest? (a Limerick)
I cannot see the morning moon
There’s no sunshine in my breakfast spoon
The heaviest of fogs falls
I cannot hear the birds’ calls
Has our world condemned nature’s tune?
Ivor Steven © May 2022
My fading dawn was impossible to identify
A heavy fog had kidnapped my sky
Sabotaging my morning sunlight
The day disappeared in front of my eyes
The passing of night left a murky blight
There’s no start nor end to my blurred sight
Breathing in moist air, I gasp, “where’s the moon?”
Had my dismal forecast unravelled too soon?
Is this shadowless gloom?
The beginning of doom ?
Ivor Steven © May 2022
The dawn is a gray silent sea
And as a cold fog invades me
I see a green paddock
Without a horizon
Vanishing into oblivion
I see a ghostly power-source
Hang without opposition
Vanishing into oblivion
I see a ghastly concrete Czar
Without compassion
Disappearing into oblivion
Ivor Steven © May 2022
End Of Day
I was told by a crafty old toad
That my journey was a “No through road”
But he did not say, “The wrong way”
Nor did he infer, “No way”
So, I kept traveling that way
Along my lonely causeway
Towards the end of day
To be farther away
From a world in decay
Ivor Steven © May 2022
After times of sorrow
Hope lives on,
in tomorrow
So sings,
my little sparrow
All my mountains
have been climbed
All my climbs
had their falls and failures
Then ultimately
I tried to reach my goal
“Except that the goal
Falls short of the reach” … Leonard Cohen, from his song ‘The Goal’
Ivor Steven © May 2022
Above
I see a withered desk
Hovering over a lake
Of torn white caps
Like shredded foam
On blue-lined papers
Below
I see a submerged floor
Drowning in clusters
Of broken dreams
Like abandoned shoes
On white-washed beaches
Ivor Steven (c) May 2022
Hello readers and followers, the poem I am reposting today is an ”Alphabet” poem that I wrote in April 2019, two days before I left to fly to NewYork, on my way to visiting my Philadelphia cousins, who I had never met, and of course I was also to meet my favourite niece and penpal “Kerri” for the “First” time … So, I thought I would try to write my “First” every Alphabet Poem, to celebrate my “First” every trip to New York and Philadelphia …
Hot Cross Buns and Chocolates
America, here I come, ready or not
Beyond my bed-zoned borders
Chasing those forgotten horizons
Dreams are finally blossoming
Easter treats are tucked in my pockets
Fancy editions of my poems, are packed in the case
Giant airports and planes abound
Hot cross buns, and more chocolates are eaten
Inspiring my week’s holiday mood
Jet engines soaring aloft
Kidnapping me by default
Lawyers left floundering
My medical records lost in transit
Naughty nightingales, again covering for me
Opening my doorways, to the promised land
Passing high above the melody, at heaven’s archway
Quarantine played, Leonard’s Tower Of Song
Rumblings, I hear from a distant Bensalem yard
Spiritual chants, from my family circle
Telepathic messages, humming on a magic carpet ride
Unbroken my promise, now to be honoured
Vikings and villains to be avoided
Weapons disguised, under the statues torch of liberty
Xylophones I hear, playing on the streets of New York
Young ladies are dancing to my tune, Hallelujah
Zero-ground, salutes me there, staying upside down
Ivor Steven (c) May 2022
Hello dear readers and followers, as you may know, I now write for “Coffee House Writers” magazine on a fortnightly basis, and my poem“My River Flows”, 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/my-river-flows/
Ivor Steven (c) May 3rd 2022
Hello dear readers and followers … Despite April & May being personally special remembrance times for me this year, I am pleased to announce that I have managed to produce my “Twenty Eigth Tullawalla” Booklet … For new readers that don’t know about these booklets, they are basically the reason why I write poetry. I produce these ‘home-printed’ booklets for the sole purpose of raising funds for my favourite charity organisation, the MS Society, in Australia via the MS Charity Shop here in Geelong. And actually all money’s I receive for any of my poetry .via, submissions, I donate to the MS Society…. I’m proud to announce, that the sale of my “Tullawalla Booklets”, have now gone pass $1500.00, … to all the lovely readers, who have donated, to help achieve such a wonderful amount, a big heartfelt thank you, from “us” and the MS Society … …..Incredibly, there is now a total of “1205 poems”, Yep, well over “A Thousand Poems” in my collection/series of “28” Tullawalla Booklets. After 2 months, this booklet is finally completed, and ready for sale now !! As always, they are available for purchase, either as a hard copy ‘Booklet’, or a PDF format….. All proceeds go to the MS Charity Shop, here in Geelong West….. Please contact me here through my website page and I can chat to you about arrangements from there…. Oh, the booklet is called “Tullawalla, A Third Eye is Watching”… And here is the link to my website >> https://ivors20.wordpress.com
Featured Images Above: by Derrick Knight > https://derrickjknight.com/
A Third Eye is Watching
When your emotions begin to flow
Do your senses amplify and grow?
Bodily aches and mental strains intensify
Your flooded brain feels like a third-eye
Wondering why?
You are paddling knee-high
In yesterday’s goodbyes
Today my universe
Hovers above my verse
And there is no reason to cry
While her soul resides high and dry
Ivor Steven (c) May 16th 2022
Ivor.Plumber/Poet 