Tag: Poetry/Australia

A Purple Rock

I found a purple rock

Under the big purple clock

The purple rock was quietly listening

To the purple sounds of whispering

Hordes of purple voices reverberating

Within the purple shadows of distancing

 

Unexpectedly the purple rock began crumbling

Into a dusty purple mist, now malingering

And quickly the purple cloud started raining

Spreading purple over those outsiders witnessing

Eventually after years of purple transitioning

The purple bad-seeds flowered after reconditioning

 

 

 

Ivor Steven (c)  March 2020

Her Kindness

A poem for Gina, a hard working angel at the hospital. Last night my dreams echoed her kindness….And a big thank you to everyone working in the health care system.

 

Her Kindness

 

I can hear storm clouds rumbling

But I cannot hear the darkness

I can see a tired sun fading

But I cannot see the gloominess

I can say help those who are crying

But I cannot say I am fearless

But I will not sit and be silent

My hands ring the bells of kindness

 

 

Ivor Steven (c)  March 2020

Hold Your Horses

This afternoon I went for a walk to the Moorabool Valley Cafe, however the cafe was operating under strict lock-down conditions. At the cafe door, I could order a take-away coffee, where I also ordered a delicious slice of cheesecake. Luckily I had my backpack on, and the package sat easily in my backpack, and I carried the coffee, I was not allowed to stay at the cafe, nor even in outdoor patio area. Anyhow off I trek on way back to home. On the way home I knew of a park bench where I could have a rest and eat my cake, and I also took the above photos on the way back….. and everything combined to inspire me to think of a poem, while sitting at the park bench, “eating my cheesecake, and writing these words”……. .

Hold Your Horses

I’m riding my white pony from the air-force

She’s a Pegasus, and the perfect horse for this course

But are we on the right track?

Am I actually heading back?

Winging our way across the continent

My loyal stead is divinely competent

And I trust her heavenly sense of direction

Flying us towards my celestial connection

Ivor Steven (c) March 2020

Survive, Again

I’m here, in my writers room

Secure in this single cocoon

But my active mind’s wondering

And dreams of freely wandering

 

Be patient I am told

Remember those bad days of old

When your body turned cold

Dead from a worldly mould

 

You’re to be a good patient again

Remember those months of pain

When clots and spots invaded your brain

And how you survived, to see your spirit reign

 

 

 

Ivor Steven (c)  March 2020

A Dragonfly Lives Six Months

The Weekend Challenge from Weekly Prompts is  ‘Ladders.‘ please go over and visit the  “Weekly Prompts” fabulous site by clicking >>HERE. Today my poem is about the view I see from the top of my ladder….

 

A Dragonfly Lives Six Months

 

From atop of my wooden ladder

I saw crowds growing madder

Beyond the world’s yellowing sky

I heard a murmuring dragonfly

Cry and fall off his rainbow slide

Landing awkwardly on his side

Powerless I gazed, mortified

As one of nature’s angels, slowly died

 

 

Ivor Steven (c)  March 2020

Grandma’s Hands

I wonder what mum and grandma are thinking

Mum was born after the First World War

A child of the roaring twenties

Then she became a poor teenager, of the great depression

And a young nurse, during the horror’s of a second World War

A time when everyone’s supplies were rationed

 

Everyone helped each other, when things run out

Everyone knew a son, that been killed in the war

Everyone gave you a soft shoulder to lean on

Everyone shared each others pain

Our parents and grandparents survived

And taught us compassion, and the value of every single life

 

 

 

Ivor Steven (c)  March 2020

Boy In A Bubble

I’m living inside my bubble of air and sea

But my shadow is drifting away from me

A distant silhouette beyond my arms reach

Now I’m an isolated sand-grain off yesterday’s beach

 

I’m walking alone and free in today’s daydream

Thinking of life, crossing-over to be with my honey and cream*

This commonwealth of man has isolated the birds and bees

Now I’m hoping to hug this dark forest’s future trees

 

honey and cream* >> https://ivors20.wordpress.com/2018/10/28/cream-and-honey-2/

 

 

Ivor Steven (c)  March 2020

Even the Church-mouse Had Fled

I stood beside the librarian, and didn’t know why she was crying

My poetry group’s Sunday meeting was cancelled this morning

I had last night’s dreams in my hand, as a readable draft

They were soulful words that needed to leave my heart

But my poet’s notebook remained virally unread 

I was left segregated, and even the church-mouse had fled 

 

Next morning, during the dawn’s half light

I lay there half awake, recalling my other half’s restless night

By then the evening tears had cleansed my misty sight

And washed the dusty notebook pages back to white

Alive again, my 2B pencil had begun to rewrite

About my dreams of life’s old wrongs and future plights

 

 

Ivor Steven (c)  March 2020