Let The Past Be Gone

The end of December, and January is near.

The bell tolls louder, and how perennially I jeer.

Those same old questions, and no answers, every year.

Annually dismayed, as new dawns disappear.

Let the past be gone, now that today’s here.

Let the future come, as I face tomorrows haunting fears.

 

Last years sins have been, and totally bygone.

The new year’s about to begin, could be right or wrong.

Next year’s eeriely hovering, and I anxiously worry far too long.

Knowingly waiting, for my angels mourning song.

Let the past be gone, vowed todays final word.

Let the future come, but tomorrow’s dying, I heard.

 

Ivor Steven  (c)

 

 

Afterlife

Why am I so adamant that I need to fight.

Feeling this chasm of pain every night.

Why am I so adolescent about my plight.

Longing for the love, the affection, of no-one in sight.

 

Why am I so uncertain within myself.

Desiring relief and a remedy for my health.

Why am I so sorry for my lost time on the shelf.

Pining after my souls drowned wealth.

 

Why am I still shaken, afraid of life.

Thinking there’s only loneliness without my wife.

Why am I still heartsick, pierced like a knife.

Wondering if there’ll ever be anymore afterlife.

 

Ivor Steven  (c)

“Afterlife” is an older poem of mine, and today I’ve revised and re-edited the words slightly.  The original poem was written in July 2012, and feeling in a reflective mood as the New Year approaches, I decided to post this version of the poem, from my past.

Time Travelers

Zap, a gigantic lightening bolt precedes a mystical power surge.

Traversing the cobalt skies, like horizontally sleek outriggers.

Vividly scoring chords to hang our every word on.

Like musical lines, writing out our lost dreams and regrets.

 

Sound-waves echoing, poles apart, going north, south, east and west.

Conducting iridescent lights over our purple and orange sunset.

Vibrating quasars, pulsating from deeply inside, outer-space.

Focusing towards the huge magnetic Receiving Dish, signalling “An Arrival”.

 

 

Recording a celestial traveler, singing with an angel’s voice.

Resonating sweetly, like Handel’s, Messiah Hallelujah Chorus.

Translated into our universal language of symphonic sound.

Digitally televised for the world’s population to simultaneously view.

 

The Super-Sonic Cosmic message to be heard loud and clear.

“We’ve returned to your degraded planet earth”.

“To again, bestow upon you, Peace And Goodwill”

“Like we’ve done before, Eons of Millenniums ago”

 

Ivor Steven  (c).

Help Me Raise £250 For The Dogs Trust By Leaving Me A Link To Your Blog

Hugh's Views & News  

The Christmas tree is up, but something is missing. There are no gifts under it, and I need your help to put that right.

#charity #appeal #christmastree #christmas

For this year’s Christmas charity appeal, I’m asking you to help me raise up to £365 for The Dogs Trust.

The Dogs Trust, formerly known as the National Canine Defence League, is an animal welfare charity and humane society in the United Kingdom which specialises in the well-being of dogs. Click here to go to their website.

Want to get involved? Here’s what you need to do.

  1. In the comments section of this post, leave the name of your blog and a link to it. This can be a link to your ‘about me’ page, a favourite blog post you’ve published, or the home page of your blog.
  2. If you’re an author, you’re also welcome to leave me a link to any books you have published. So, for…

View original post 329 more words

Bobby

A lovely poem and absolutely gorgeous Christmas song from my dear friend Jane, enjoy….

Making it write

A soiled trouser leg
is tucked up beneath him, held down
by the weight of his ravaged body,
reminding me that I am one of the lucky ones
who have more than the average
quantity of legs.

His right foot
sits askew on the wheelchair’s footrest.
I straighten my back, as if to make up
for his crooked limb.

A paper bag
rests crumpled on his lap.
I think of fragrant Indian takeaways,
and of the free accompaniments my family receives
when we order a meal for all of us.

He grabs the bag with the eagerness of
a child on Christmas morning,
sliding down the banisters to join his parents
who grin beside a glittering tree,
eager to see his eyes lit by the thrilling surprise of a new bike
tied around with a wide blue ribbon.

He unscrews a cap and tips the bag
towards his cracked lips.

View original post 138 more words

River Of Destiny

Going to see that lady of Wizardry.

In the grey house of mystery.

Over the bridge, strong and earthy.

Finding my path to bravery.

Not to be judged lightly.

But cured for all eternity.

 

Bending, a bow to the Queen, so ghostly.

In the castle of life, so empty.

Far from again being carefree.

Finding my journey to longevity.

Not to be forlorn and angry.

But face friends and foe all calmly.

 

Searching to see her hidden beauty.

In the distant Abbey, so eerie.

Over the boundaries, through the valley.

Finding my river of destiny.

Not to be trialed for my sanity.

But unveiled, for all humanity.

 

Ivor Steven (c)

A Christmas Diamond, A Sparkling Jewel

Dreamt of your radiant face last night.

So serene, a diamond, a dove, so pure white.

Not sad, just vivid memories, oh so bright.

And still plenty of tears, don’t worry, I’m alright.

Visions of your bravery, courage above and beyond.

So gracious, an everlasting smile for everyone.

Completely in awe, amazing, oh what an anthem.

And still crying out, you were natures stellar blossom.

Felt your pain, your sorrow, revealed to only a few.

So uncomplaining, never a burden, never a shrew.

Thinking the whole world should be like you.

Wishing this hungry planet could cheerful too.

Wondering is life, sometimes ordained cruel.

But I’ll continue on, for you, my sparkling Jewel.

 

Ivor Steven  (c)

Featured Image, DHGate.com  rinhoo jewelry.

“Where Have All The Good Times Gone”

A few days ago(29th Nov 2017), I had started writing a poem about Penny Farthing Bicycles, prompted by an article in the Geelong Advertiser newspaper, the arrival in Geelong of eight members of the Melbourne Bicycle Club in March 1880, as per featured picture above, courtesy of the Geelong Heritage Centre Collection. Then I was chatting with my friend Jane of Janebasilblog, she had just sent me the song and lyrics of the Mary Hopkin hit, “Those Were The Days”, from 1968, and I mentioned The Kinks were one of my fav’s from that era, and of course their song “Lola”. After our chat, I starting thinking [which is dangerous for me] about writing a crazy, combined, mixed up poem… The piece below is the result of those thoughts, and to my older readers, you’ll notice all the phrases written in Italic, are song titles taken from The Kinks album “The Kinks Collection”. So apologies to Ray Davies for using his song titles in such a manner. And thank you to Jane for providing me with the inspiration to actually write these jumbled up words. And now today(11th Nov 2018), this poem has been re-posted, a response to CalmKate’s Friday Foto Fun – Wheels Or Circles.

“Where Have All The Good Times Gone”

 

I remember the olden times

Of pennies and farthings

Pounds and pence

When money made no sense

Mary Hopkins sang

“Those Were The Days”

And the Kinks song “Lola”

Was the best number one ever

Many a lazy Sunny Afternoon

Spent down near Waterloo Sunset

Where we would all dance

All Of The Day And All Of The Night

My Friends would all dress-up

Like Dedicated Followers Of Fashion

Unlike that lonely Plastic Man

Who faked the Death Of A Clown

Way back then, You Really Got Me

You fired me up, here in Victoria

Thousands of Days forgotten in the burn-out

Charred in a cloud of Big Black Smoke

But now, I’m Tired Of Waiting For You

Wondering, Where Have All The Good Times Gone

Ivor Steven

29th November 2017.  4.00pm