The apple I ate today was pure white
did I do wrong, or was I right
to have the adulterated bite
knowing all eyes have imperfect insight
It’s a crying shame
that dreams aren’t the same
who’s to blame
for this loveless game
please give us some hope
so we may live to cope
The cracks are dark holes
chasms to the soul
leaking emotions of old
needing warmth from the cold
We all have our worth
here on mother earth.
Ivor Steven (c) 2018
I’m sailing on my Pacific cruise on Saturday 31st, off to the New Caledonian Islands, and I’ve not had a holiday for three years, and I’m looking forward to my trip. Hehehe, although I’ve still to dispose of that wicked witch !!
Ripe Tomatoes And A Garden Spade
Only another week to go
I’ll be on the cruise
I’m not feeling nervous
More that I’m fearful
Scared my plan might go amiss
Before the high seas deliver bliss
Taking two suitcases is normal
Other passengers may have three
I won’t look suspicious
I’ve bagged her precisely
Chopped her into small pieces
Stored separately in the freezer
The old witch, I caught her trespassing
In my private courtyard
Stealing my precious cherry tomatoes
I whacked her with my garden spade
Across the top of her green head
I didn’t hit her too hard
She lay there bleeding, not dead
How dare she come into my yard
She’s pleading with me, no mercy I said
As I dragged her into the shed.
Ivor Steven (c) 2018
I’m sailing on my Pacific cruise on Saturday 31st, off to the New Caledonian Islands, and I’ve not had a holiday for three years, and I’m looking forward to my trip. Hehehe, although I’ve still to dispose of that wicked witch !!
Ripe Tomatoes And A Garden Spade
Only another week to go
I’ll be on the cruise
I’m not feeling nervous
More that I’m fearful
Scared my plan might go amiss
Before the high seas deliver bliss
Taking two suitcases is normal
Other passengers may have three
I won’t look suspicious
I’ve bagged her precisely
Chopped her into small pieces
Stored separately in the freezer
The old witch, I caught her trespassing
In my private courtyard
Stealing my precious cherry tomatoes
I whacked her with my garden spade
Across the top of her green head
I didn’t hit her too hard
She lay there bleeding, not dead
How dare she come into my yard
She’s pleading with me, no mercy I said
As I dragged her into the shed.
Ivor Steven (c) 2018
Thank you to Slasher Monster Magazine for publishing my poem on their fantastic Magazine site SMM. https://slashermonster.com For some alternative writing and reading please take look.
Ripe Tomatoes and a Garden Spade
Only another week to go
I’ll be on the cruise
I’m not feeling nervous
More that I’m fearful
Scared my plan might go amiss
Before the high seas deliver bliss
Taking two suitcases is normal
Other passengers may have three
I won’t look suspicious
I’ve bagged her precisely
Chopped her into small pieces
Stored separately in the freezer
The old witch, I caught her trespassing
In my private courtyard
Stealing my precious cherry tomatoes
I whacked her with my garden spade
Across the top of her green head
I didn’t hit her too hard
She lay there bleeding, not dead
How dare she come into my yard
She’s pleading with me, no mercy I said
And I dragged her into the shed
I’ve been there so often
I’ve lost my fear, gone, forgotten
The darkest abyss
Under a cobblestone crest
Opening into a gloomy manhole
Trapdoor to the soul
Below the floor
My elbows do score
Over dried out soil
Beneath sticky cobweb curtains
Fingernails claw my way
Toes pushing against crumbled clay
No space, dusty tears
No air, dirt I chew
Shouldering under bearers
Squeezing, I burst through
I’m here, there’s a job to do
I begin searching for you
Ivor Steven (c) 2018
Yellow
There she silently stays
Baking under daily sun-rays
An old warriors chariot
Vehicle of love and riot
Deliverer of play and gain
Carrier of our angel in the rain
A working yellow submarine
Shipping friends and our queen
Transporting them all
Here and there, having a ball
Green
I’m green with envy
Overnight, mother natures been
Healing my poison ivy
A miracle potion unseen
Mosaics of Autumn leaves
A queens robe of gold and brown
Warm quilts from the trees
Nurturing globes in the ground
Ivor Steven (c) 2018
Oh, how I do over stretch
then like a faithful dog
I return after the chase and fetch
balancing life on a rolling river log
I was waiting last year
waiting last month
waiting last week
waiting yesterday
I’m waiting again tonight
I might as well keep waiting
Wait for what I’ve been waiting for
To see a crack in the wall
to stop your fall
may you grow tall
as the light calls
Anger is danger
anger is not love
danger is heavy
danger is not love
love is respect
love is not crushing
Ivor Steven (c) 2018
