A Courtyard Of Dreams

Hello readers, I’m able to do a bit of copy and pasting, without straining or tiring myself out.. enjoy…

A Courtyard Of Dreams

 

Children can be childish, resistant and defiant

Adults can be childish, arrogant and ignorant

 

I’ll keep my old heels on the ground

While I’m able to see the difference

Between blue, green and brown

 

With love, there comes hidden trials of hurt

With denial of love, there’s only dust and dirt

 

A heart’s love, is true tenderness

Do not wait for tomorrow

There will not always be, that life’s sweetness

One day your soul, will know true sorrow

 

 

Moving On, by Leonard Cohen:  Lyrics

“Moving On”

 “I loved your face I loved your hair
Your t-shirts and your evening-wear
As for the world the job the war
I ditched them all to love you more

And now you’re gone, now you’re gone
As if there ever was a you
Who broke the heart and made it new?
Who’s moving on, who’s kiddin’ who?

I loved your moods I love the way
They threaten every single day
Your beauty ruled me though I knew
Twas more hormonal that the view

Now you’re gone, now you’re gone
As if there ever was a you
Queen of lilac, queen of blue
Who’s moving on, who’s kiddin’ who?

I loved your face I loved your hair
Your t-shirts and your evening-wear
As for the world the job the war
I ditched them all to love you more

And now you’re gone, now you’re gone
As if there ever was a you
Who held me dyin’ pulled me through
Who’s moving on, who’s kiddin’ who?

Who’s moving on, who’s kiddin’ who?”

 

Ivor Steven (c)  Nov 2019

 

Annoying Mind Games (Again)

Hi dear readers , below is a poem from two years ago, one that I really didn’t want to post again, but sadly, here the story is, on repeat again…………

Here I am in bed now, with a sharp raging headache(again). I’m not well, my occipital neuralgia has flared up (again) . All I can do is rest, so I’ll be lying low for a few days (or more). I’m beginning my treatment on Tuesday, physiotherapy and acupuncture, which in the end gives me some manageable relief. The whole process can take up to 4 weeks,…. Yeah… I should be ok for Christmas……. Hope you all have a good weekend

 

Mind Games (Again)

 

There’s a sharp pain

Inside my brain

Harpooning my eye

More than Ouch, I cry

So hard to write

Blurry is my sight

All I do is peep

And I must rest and sleep

I’ve not lost the knack

And I shall be back……….

Hopefully soon

Before they play my tune

 

Occipital neuralgia is a distinct type of headache characterised by piercing, throbbing, or electric-shock-like chronic pain in the upper neck, back of the head, and behind the ears, usually on one side of the head. Typically, the pain of occipital neuralgia begins in the neck and then spreads upwards.

 

Ivor Steven (c)  Nov 2019

Enough To Fill A Fire Bucket

How deep is your ocean ?

Are your tears drowning in the Red Sea ?

Is that black keyboard able to swim ?

Will your wet-suit protect you from the frozen lake ?

How long before your aqueducts run dry ?

 

Have you someone, to repair your heart’s broken levees ?

Are you able to withstand the crushing waves ?

Will those floodwaters ever stop ?

Has the smouldering really been doused ?

Were your love ones ashes, washed away today ?

 

Is this the story of life, for you ?

Then, ring-out the moisture, from your leftover soul

Fill the fire buckets, with raindrops of sorrow

Let us join the human-chain, and throw water on the flames

 

 

Ivor Steven (c)  Nov 2019

Astronauts To The Rescue

The night sky’s hazily stark

Black space debris fills the dark

No bright street globes are in sight

What happened to the starry, starry night

No faerie lights, nor sparkle dust

Only smoky charring of the earth’s crust

 

Rescuing astronauts were sent into the atmosphere

They were last seen drifting pass Jupiter

 

Will they ever stop fighting the desert crusades

Modern lifeguards are still lying about those charades

Of ravaging the forests, and sinking refugee boats

As Negroes from the Ivory Coast are only eating burnt toast

 

 

Ivor Steven (c)  Nov 2019

 

The Gift

Greed is a hearts bad seed

Encouraging an unnatural need

‘Twas my psyches, unrequited branch

That I left at the devils ranch

 

Now, there’s no more regrets for me

I’m almost home, I’m almost free

Tomorrow I’ll climb, another tree

 

With the gift of nature, we flew, we dared

And life’s promises and dreams, went undeclared

Upon her final Autumn, a tapestry of golden threads

 

 

Ivor Steven (c)  Nov 2019