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)





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.

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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.

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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.

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A Crack in the Wall

Thankyou to the Team at Vita Brevis Magazine, The New Poetry Magazine, for selecting and subsequently publishing my poem “A Crack In The Wall”. I thoroughly recommend to all my readers and followers, to visit and support this superb Poetry Magazine, https://vitabrevisliterature.com

Vita Brevis

Submitted by Ivor Steven

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 tomorrow’s cases,
Full of dusty dreams.
Clutching torn curtains,
Darkened to the outside worlds.
Passing a crumbling brick wall,
Weakened by the original fall.

Are you a literary poet or writer? Send us your best work!
Photo credit:  Broken Walls from Fine Arts America

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