Arctic Winds

A big thank you to Vita Brevis Magazine for selecting and publishing my poem “Arctic Winds”. I am truly honoured to be represented in this wonderful Magazine for poets, and to all my readers/followers, I sincerely recommend that you visit/follow the Vita Brevis site,
https://vitabrevisliterature.com.

Vita Brevis Press

Submitted by Ivor Steven

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.

Terrorizing 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.


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Photo Credit: An Arctic Landscape At Dusk – Herman Herzog

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Broken Plates And Rabbit Stew

Have you every had that weird fantasia sort of dream.

Where you can’t see beyond the silver screen.

The infinite edges are no-where to be seen.

Greyness is black and red is green.

Straight lines are wavering slivery beams.

Stitched inside your brain’s sewn-up seams.

Bagged and tagged a pale corpse unseen.

Blueness in blood and plasma in streams.

Like chunky bittersweet rhubarb pie and cream.

Being injected directly into your open arteries.

Hallucinating a mad, mindless vortex of fun and games.

Spiralling outside in moonshine, as bleak bedroom coldness reigns.

Over mountains made of bland home-style rabbit stew.

Slowly eaten with a wooden teaspoon, hundreds of times.

Digested, your tummy gurgles and ejects buckets of spew.

While a hairless dog chases the postie’s bike, a whistle screams.

Dawn awakened to ice-covered broken plates and frozen lakes.

Shattered upon creek-bed rocks and your floor’s underlay.

This nightmare dream begun in April and ended dismayed.

 

Ivor Steven  (c)