7 Haiku Poems: Ghouls From Pluto

A glorious collection of Halloween Haiku’s by Poet Rummager and Megaeggz

Poet Rummager

PlutoPhoto found by –FlyTrapMan–

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Ghouls from dark Pluto
Here to rob me of my treats
Little bastard thieves

Iβ€˜d knocked for hours
My knuckles bleeding and cracked
No one steals my stash

I clutch my candies
Dig my feet into the ground
Beasts drool and surround

Kit Kat hisses loud
Rips out of the bag and howls
Ghouls emit scared sounds

Kit

Blades reflect moonlight
3 Musketeers brandish swords
Let’s slice up this horde

Musk.jpg

Ghouls shriek, Let’s retreat
No clawing or slicing please
Earth’s candies aren’t sweet!

Almond Joy bar grins
As Ghouls beam back to Pluto
Happy Halloween!

Almond

Haiku poems by Megaeggz and Poet Rummager.

Silly illustrations by Poet Rummager.

Click HERE to visit Josh at Megaeggz!

Click HERE to visit –FlyTrapMan–

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Cheesecake And A Hungry Magpie

I’m out walking with Monty

We’re at the Moorabool Valley Cafe

A rural atmosphere, a relaxing place for me

Lunchtime, coffee and cake

Yes, a tasty sweet berry cheesecake

We’re sitting at an outdoor table

A shady tree-lined patio area

Then suddenly, a magpie lands

He’s a cheeky and hungry bird

And a food thief, if you’re not watching

Monty the guard-dog, just sits there

Watching, not a warning bark to be heard.

 

Time for us to walk back home

The Cafe is part of a horse agistment farm

We’re strolling past horse paddocks

Monty is fascinated by a nearby horse

He tugs me over , to have a closer look

At close quarters, both stand and stare at each other

I suppose Monty thinks the horse is a big dog

And the horse thinks Monty is a small pony

Wouldn’t the world be a beautiful place

Beholding others at face value, without prejudice

Above Photos: The Cafe, outdoor patio area, and the magpie in centre photo.

Above Photos: Monty and the horse.

Above Photos: The berry cheesecake, a piece of strawberry chocolate I bought at the Cafe, and the hungry magpie

 

 

Ivor Steven (c)Β  2018

 

 

Monty, The White Knight

I’m Doggie minding again. This time I’m looking after the gorgeous Monty, for friends Martin and Jacqui. He’s a bundle of joy, no trouble and a pleasure to have here.

He’s a White Knight

Sleeps like a log all-night

Silently guarding the house

Quiet as a mouse

Yes ! he’s taken over my bed

Beside me at the bed-head

Listening to Leonard Cohen

As if he’s always known

He has a long waggy tail

With a curly coat, his warm veil

A round friendly face

Eye’s that plead for your embrace

 

Ivor Steven (c)Β  2018

A Letter To Hydra

I dreamed of sending a letter to Greece

To Hydra, an island paradise

Where sunshine basks on clearness in the air

Shimmering upon old white villa’s at the water’s edge

Memories flood me, of a poet extraordinaire

A handsome man, leaning on his writing ledge

Composing timeless words

Legends now, we’ve all heard

 

The sound of his golden voice

The strumming of his distinctive guitar music

My heart would pump out tears of joy

My soul would bathe in rhythmic jubilee’s

His lyrics would deeply resonate around me

His messages were poignant, clear to see

Massaging my tortured thoughts, to be true and free

Guiding my arduous life through turbulent seas

 

My mentor

My saviour

A Tower Of Song, in heaven

Since 2016 November Seven

 

Ivor Steven (c)Β  2018

Cream And Honey

Hi dear readers, I’m re-posting this poem “Cream And Honey”, that I wrote yesterday, especially for those that may have missed it. I’m happy with this piece, the feelings within the words were personally deep and meaningful in their simplicity, and I’ll also be submitting the poem to some magazines, to see if I may be able to get it published. However not many of the poems that I like myself, seem to make it through editors selections.

Cream And Honey

 

I dreamt of what might have been

Dreamt of what I have not seen

Snow on top of lover’s hill

Cream filling my empty till

 

I had forgotten what could have been

Forgotten what I had already seen

Flowers on top of her wooden bier

Honey kisses, and my empty fear

 

I’m dreaming of where I have been

Dreaming of what no-one’s ever seen

Snowflakes silently melting in her palm

Cream and honey, my lovers balm

 

Ivor Steven (c)Β  2018

Cream And Honey

I dreamt of what might have been

Dreamt of what I have not seen

Snow on top of lover’s hill

Cream filling my empty till

 

I had forgotten what could have been

Forgotten what I had already seen

Flowers on top of her wooden bier

Honey kisses, and my empty fear

 

I’m dreaming of where I have been

Dreaming of what no-one’s ever seen

Snowflakes silently melting in her palm

Cream and honey, a lovers balm

 

Ivor Steven (c)Β  2018

Bedroom Fireplace

Thank you to Gina of, Singledust, for introducing me to a Pantun, style of poetry this morning.

Pantun :

In its most basic form the pantun consists of a quatrain which employs an abab rhyme scheme. A pantun is traditionally recited according to a fixed rhythm and as a rule of thumb, in order not to deviate from the rhythm, every line should contain between eight and 12 syllables. “The pantun is a four-lined verse consisting of alternating, roughly rhyming lines. The first and second lines sometimes appear completely disconnected in meaning from the third and fourth, but there is almost invariably a link of some sort. Whether it be a mere association of ideas, or of feeling, expressed through assonance or through the faintest nuance of a thought, it is nearly always traceable” (Sim)

I’m not quite sure whether I’ve written the format correctly, but here is my first Pantun. I think I’m a bit light on in the syllable count.

Featured Image: Above, Jing’an Sculpture Park.

 

Bedroom Fireplace

 

Oh wondrous lounge-room fire-place

Your winter-time sparkling crackle

Glows upon our old desire’s embrace

Reciting words of lust, beyond our burnt shackles

 

Oh wondrous bed-room fire-place

Your winter-time warming flame

Narrates tales of our revere and grace

Flickering words of love, beyond our given time

 

Spark Of The Heart lyrics, Redgum

Album: Frontline

It’s a harsh dry land, breaks your back and scars and gnarls your hands
Now carcasses rot in the sun and dusk silts up the dams
Sacked two men when the postie poked those bluies through the fly screen door
The welfare state dried up ten years before

Its Hobson’s choice, they run this plane flocks melt into bone
You can drove the stock routes for a year and cripple life at home
Still look forward to every day but every days the same
You Wake in a sweat dream of the smell of rain

But a river runs solid runs deep
I work this land it grips me by my feet
Staying until my blood runs cold
Spark of the heart
I’m in soul

My great grandfather pushed his luck beyond the Goutre Line
Now all that’s left are new cloud shears and a gravestone walked with lime
In tribute I still use his Swiss barometer in vain
Lake be damned, the weather hasn’t changed

Fifty miles by river land this pasture fenced and sprayed
Profit margins [chime] and graphed at boardrooms in LA
Absenting landlords meet to match their smiles and fake suntans
In three years they’ll have bleached the soil to sand

But a river runs solid runs deep
I work this land it grips me by my feet
Staying until my blood runs cold
Spark of the heart
I’m in soul

Jocie searches salt bush where rain once ran its course
It’s a shock to see a child of twelve grow old upon a horse
The glory box lies locked with memories silent as the phone
Even in the shadows it’s our home
Government relief just might keep breeding stock alive
The agents jump the cost of feed and the export markets dive
And if it rains I’m still in debt until I’m ninety-eight
Will the last one out please shut the bloody gate

On the news it seems unreal
Floods in Cairns the cities just can’t feel
Survivals a story untold
Spark of the heart
I’m in soul

But a river runs solid runs deep I love this land it grips me by my feet
Staying until my blood runs cold
Spark of the heart
I’m in soul

 

Ivor Steven (c)Β  2018