Climb Aboard, (Introduction by, Jane Basil)
all who wish an end to war are welcome;
we beg you to share our message of peace,
that it may reach across the wildest desert,
weave through cities, travel with the waves of the seas
that stroke our shores and soak into our sands.
Let it grow to encompass our nurturing planet;
let every peacemaker of every nation join hands,
and be embraced with love in return.
Let peace become a pandemic
the like of which we have never known.
This was written for our peace campaign which was dreamed up by my amazing friend Paul Sunstone. Yep – remember the name; that man has greatness in him. We want the campaign to go viral. Share his post (see link below) and/or write a post of your own.
Click <<<<<<<HERE>>>>>> to find out more
and find even <<<<<<<MORE>>>>>>> <——— there
The above introduction is copied directly from Jane Basil’s blog site and her post “Climb Aboard”
https://janebasilblog.wordpress.com/2018/08/16/climb-aboard/
Below an older poem of mine from over 10 years ago, and I’m afraid nothing has changed, and Click onto “Return The Bullets” title to view Paul Sunstone’s latest post.
The mind awakens to secret cannons shattering my bed.
All the violence of the worlds pounding inside my head.
The killing and the maiming of all the innocents who fled.
What happens when all the little lambs are slaughtered.
When the people’s of all religions and creed are dead.
And we can’t return the murdering bullets back into the barrel.
I’m afraid.
The backyard stairway is far too steep to climb.
The hand rails are way out of reach to find.
And the public change-room windows are covered with bars.
Now encircling the city hall, the security backdoor is ajar.
Entering the marble aisle, the White-room appears vacant.
And guileful leaders have run, leaving a chasm of gloomy dark.
I’m wondering.
Where to go, the healing house is full of ugly holes.
The citizens cowering in shadows behind splintered lighting poles.
And the crumbling streets are awash with rivers of leftover blood.
Now the warring bosses have to fight amongst themselves.
Throwing poison pens and paper darts at each other.
Never bruised nor battered, using ivory towers as cover.
I’m terrified.
The dusty mushroom cloud, slowly settles on the barren ground.
With sands of distant lands, shifting into every nook and cranny.
We need the good Doctor, to help us cure these alien scourges.
And foreigners arriving upon waves of our neighbouring seas.
The deathly TV images, wrongly implanted for all to see.
As the press only gossip and drivel with selfish glee.
I’m stupefied.
The guns of freedom lands, haven’t even stopped the cull.
Death to friends or foe, no matter, to the rulers from above.
Their only rules, the poor and weak to be kept totally down trodden.
One day the surviving meek shall inherit their radioactive dirt.
And the rich will feast upon their own contaminated bread.
And we’ll never return the murdering bullets back into the barrel.
Ivor Steven (c) 2018
I rebloged!
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Thank you ❤️ for your kindness and may we see peace in our time
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Peace, my friend. Peace.
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You rock!
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😊 You make me smile Cindy, I’ve been called a Rock often 😊😎
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Your poem is so powerful, Ivor! I think anyone who reads it can relate to your thoughts, longings, emotions, etc.! You are right on!
It’s so sad that things haven’t changed and in some ways it seems worse today. 😦
(((HUGS)))
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We’ve just have to keep plugging away…. with a bit of PEOPLE WORD POWER…..(((Hugs)))
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Two excellent pieces, perhaps reflecting your poetic progression
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Thank you Derrick, perhaps I’m coming out of shell a bit, expanding my thoughts.
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Thank you ❤️ your reblog sends another peace ripple around the world 🗺
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Thank you for this, Ivor. This poem paints a clear picture for those who don’t understand what the next war could bring xxxx
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Oh Jane, I do have some bad dreams, my mind seems to take so much on board. I’ve had to stop watching the news, …xx
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I stopped watching the news years ago. Unfortunately can’t stop my son from talking about it, and throwing in a few conspiracy theories for good measure…
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I know… those conspiracy theories !! …. but trouble is, they’re true, all big wigs are in it together, moro, more, more money..greed, greed, how much do they fucking need…… xxxx whoops I swore…
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Swear away, Ivor. Sometimes it’s the only way. I know they’re all in it together. I keep telling my son I’ll be happy to hear about it as soon as he comes up with a way for me to change the world xxxx
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Collective solidarity is the way to go, we just have to keep plugging away. xxxx
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What an amazing poem! I especially am blown away by this one part: “Never bruised nor battered, using ivory towers as cover.” A strong picture you drew here. And I’m happy you joined the movement!
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Thank you, I’m more than happy to be here and help.
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