Changing Things Around

Sipping on tea, from old Ceylon.

This lazy day’s, all but gone.

I’m changing things around again.

Thinking I’m yesterdays craftsmen.

Putting dreams up, taking walls down.

Wandering around in my morning gown.

Daydreaming again, oh, her in this room.

Writing silly words, about sun and moon.

Feeling lost within this empty saloon.

Wishing for her to reappear soon.

Replacing the sofa, for her to see.

Reclining she would, so relaxed and free.

Oh this void, she left alone for me.

Returning she said, to share a Ceylon tea.

 

Ivor Steven.

A Crack In The Wall

Another re-post, originally from June 9th, and I’d been blogging for only two days, and the poem had only received two likes, and now most of my current readers would not have viewed this poem yet, so this seems an appropriate time to re-present the verse.

A Crack In The Wall

 

Placing yesteryear’s photos,

In that bygone album.

Cutting window holes,

In today’s front door.

Pasting forgotten memories,

In the bible, so forlorn.

Packing tomorrows cases,

Full of dusty dreams.

Clutching torn curtains,

Darkened to the outside world.

Passing a crumbling brick wall,

Weakened by the original fall.

 

Ivor Steven

Waterways (Revised)

I’m re-posting “Waterways”, It’s one of earliest blogs, and many readers may not have viewed this poem. I enjoyed writing this verse, and the words are open to be interpreted what ever way suits

Thinking about jumping into the waterfall from above.
Diving into her churning pool of heartache, called love.
Surging through the cascading rapids, of loves up and downs.
Settling upon her icy lake, where lovers often drown.
Flowing down the valley river, to where all waterways meet.
Trickling across her dry creek-bed, under the dampened sheet.
Spreading amongst the delta swamp, both bitter and sweet.
Flooding onto to her warm salt flats, discovering the open heat.
Spilling the water-lilies of love, over the seas so deep.
Joining her ocean of lost love, caressing her to sleep.

Ivor.Plumber/Poet

Text_Swag_15-06-2017_125618_PMWaterways

Oh, I’m thinking about jumping into the waterfall from above.

And diving into her churning pool of heartache, called love.

Surging through the cascading rapids, of loves ups and downs.

And settling upon her icy lake, where lovers often drown.

Flowing down the valley river, to where all waterways meet.

And trickling across her plains of pain, under the dampened sheet.

Spreading amongst the delta swamp, both bitter and sweet.

And flooding onto her warm salt flats, discovering the open heat.

Then spilling the water-lilies of love, over the seas so deep.

And joining her ocean of lost love, swimming so replete.

View original post

Arctic Winds.

Ivor.Plumber/Poet

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. More of her Design/Artwork attached below.

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.

Pumping only yesteryears rust,

And icicles of my dust.

My eyes are swollen rocks,

Amidst polarized 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.

FB_20161207_07_30_03_Saved_Picture

View original post

Mask

Oh my shield,

A secret hides.

The mask in the mirror,

Isn’t my image.

Just a shadow,

A veneer so thin,

The fogs seeping in.

Onto my mask’s

Deepest sockets.

Oozy false lashes,

And salty they burn

Scaly wrappings,

Grotesquely etched.

So camouflage remains.

A ceremonial face,

Oversees my disguise.

Soaring aloft,

Over oceans and skies.

A star traveler,

Old and wise.

And Who am I,

Alien eyes.

 

Ivor Steven.

Inside Out

Artwork:  By, TheFlyTrapMan, artist for the Slasher Monster Magazine, and drawn specifically for my poem, Inside Out, for which I’m truly grateful.

The poem “Inside Out”, is more just a rhyme and a play on a few featured words. Over the road from were I once lived, there was a furniture shop, and the advertising hoarding was, “Inside Out, Exotic Furniture”, well I was sitting there waiting for the bus, and in my minds imagination, I changed the the words to “Inside-out, Upside-down, Erotic Furniture”, and hence my little anecdote was laid….

Inside Out

 

The view of my love seems upside down.

When I’m at the bottom of her flowing gown.

And my erotic picture appears inside out.

What’s this scenic love all about.

 

The ways of my love seem upside down.

When she’s on top, covering me ’til I drown.

And I’m underneath, neither in, nor out.

What’s this crazy love all about.

 

The river of my love seems upside down.

When I’m sitting inside her smiling frown.

And her foreign body hits me in and out.

What’s this exotic love all about.

 

The world of my love seems upside down.

When I’m laying below her pounding mound.

And her endless thrusts, feel inside out.

What’s this frenzied love all about.

 

Ivor Steven

Photo below, I’m sitting at my bedroom computer desk, on this very cold morning, and starting to type out this humourous piece, about nobody and meaning nothing.

20170805_103323