Month: August 2019

Hope After Babylon

Hello dear readers and followers, maybe some of you may recall/recognise a few of the lines in my poem “Hope After Babylon”… yes, they are all lines I’ve written in comments/responses to your glorious poems/articles, that I’ve read of yours over the last month. I hope you all enjoy the way, my final compilation/poem has turned out… Thank you to all, who follow my writings….. Lots of love from Ivor… xx

Hope After Babylon

 

Distant love is a hidden pain

Caught in the shadows of moonlit rain

I walked away yesterday

And I sing in harmony today

 

Beyond the blue horizon line

Loyally, in due time

I shall touch the unreachable

And find my star’s cable

 

We the desolate, keep hanging on

There has always been hope after Babylon

Then we have to let go, to stop the bleed

Allow a next dancer, to take the lead

 

The honesty in true love is hard to find

The  truth of love, is like a gold-mine

I’ve stayed in silence for many years

Eventually my silence grew wings, made of tears

And soared above my fears

 

True love under the stars

Remains in my memoirs

 

 

Ivor Steven (c)  August 2019

Clowns And Geeks On The Exit Bus

The car is garaged, left without a driver

I’m pedalling Yorkie, like a morning biker

Then catching the exit bus, and going down-town

Limping around, like an old clown

Lugging my back-pack, from bus to shops

And plumbing jobs are stuck on stop

 

My purse strings, hold only tattered seams

Dreams of travel, have run out of steam

Just a writer geek, at his computer desk

Unshaven, winter hibernating, feeling grotesque

Here waiting for spring, to thaw my paws

And to keep warming up the exit doors

 

 

Ivor Steven (c) August 2019

Knots On Blue Paper Lines

Eyelids are heavy and tired

Overcome by the dazzle of razzle

My heart lays here empty

Softly yearning inside my chest

 

This mind of mine, feels worn and torn

Time is tick-tocking, constantly chiming

Ringing, between today and tomorrow

While the poets pen is scrawling

Knots on blue paper lines

Hanging them out, to dry and die

 

My arms are slowly fluttering

Searching for yesterday’s wings

As I continue to walk my journey

With this rusty and ageing limp

 

The lyrics of the ‘Airbourne Toxic Event’s’, song below, I think are profoundly outstanding, and well worth reading as you listening to the tune..

 

 

 

Ivor Steven (c)  August 2019

Promote Yourself Monday August 26, 2019

An invitation to come over to ‘Go Do Go Cafe’ and post one of your poems if you wish …..

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Promote yourself Mon

Welcome toPromote Yourself Monday. All Go Dog Go Cafe readers, guest writers, and baristas are invited to postonelink to one specific post (600 words or less please!) from yourblog into the comments section below.

If you post a link, be sure to read some of the other great writing people have linked to.

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Timeless

This weekend on photo challenge the Weekly Prompts is. Size Matters.

Hello my dear readers, sorry  that I’m a bit silent this weekend, and maybe for the next few days as well, I’m not feeling the best, hopefully I’ll be back to my happy self soon… xx

Haiku:  Timeless

The size of our soul
Inside the beat of our heart
That is what matters

 

Ivor Steven (c)  August 2019

My Sunrise

I’ve walked a thousand lonely miles

Looking for her everlasting smile

Gradually scaling Ararat’s steepest cliff

There, sipping from the grail’s cup of youth

 

I’ve travelled to the edge of time

To find the final word of rhyme

Where my sunrise soared into the sky

To recapture her last goodbye

Then I crawled on my hands

Searching for that broken line in the sand

 

I’ve dug myself a hole, deep into space

To join her spirit and grace

Releasing my star into the universe

And I awoke, to write more of this verse

Ivor Steven (c) August 2019

Burning The Fears

I am honoured to have been appointed to the wonderful team of writers at ‘Go Dog Go Cafe ‘ as one one of new Barista’s. This is now officially a second site for me. My followers may like to click on, follow and join me here on Go Dog Go Cafe, with the other 5,000 followers !!

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Christine’s Daily Writing Prompt: The witch doesn’t burn in this one

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Burning The Fears

I’m frightened, and I’m too scared to wait.

And knowingly, I’m arriving late.

The ghouls are spying from the hill.

And lower fools are poisoning her will.

Underneath her, a wicker complete.

Above, she’s suspended from a stake.

The bonfires started, against the rules.

And the crowds rejoicing, as the fire drools.

Waiting agog, for her garments to ignite.

The flames are sparking for her, on this night.

And the mob’s listening for her ungodly screams.

But there’s not a whimper, within she beams.

And secretly, I see her black cats drowning tears,

Are extinguishing all her burning fears.

Featured Image: Artwork, by Kerri Costello, Graphic Design Artist, my amazing niece/second cousin, who lives in Philadelphia, she’s so very talented, and a very special person in my life, thank you Kerri.

Ivor is a part-time plumber, former…

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Dear Friend, I Mean These Words

Hello dear readers, I’ve been browsing through some old poems of mine….. and I came across this poem/letter, that I had written for a very dear friend …. the piece has remained filed away for over seven years….. and for the sake of my angel, I think It’s time that my noble soul shared these words……

Dear Friend, I Mean These Words
From the bottom of my broken heart, I thank you

From the depths of my crying soul, I thank you

Holding her frail hand at night, you were there

Caressing her spirit with your gentle words, you were there

Keeping me company, during her gathering dark, you were there

Hugging me when I cried and cried, you were there

Dear friend, again, and again, I mean these words

Dear friend, over and over, I say these words

From the bottom of my beating heart, I thank you

From depths of my noble soul, I thank you

 

 

Ivor Steven (c)  August 2019

Sundown’s Flight

When I’m physically able

And feeling stable

I like to stroll down my dead-end lane

Study the sky’s weather vane

Through the shapes of clouds to come

And by the brightness of the setting sun

Shredding prisms of light, today’s benediction

Bright red or dull grey, tomorrow’s true prediction

 

Here’s a fading horizon, nature’s ballet

Indicating storms are on the way

My camera captures a jilted twilight

At nightfall I see dusk’s mingling sights

A shadowed treeline, merges into the clouds dark kites

And I stand here witnessing sundown’s flight

 

Ivor Steven (c)  August 2019