Creatures Of Wizardry

 

Weekly Prompts : Photo Challenge, Animals In Nature

This weeks Photo Challenge is about animals in nature, and I’m always fascinated by the mystical world of dragons, and that’s “My Dragon” in the featured image above, and also in the picture below, where I’m giving my friendly dragon a pat. You can read all about my dragon by clicking on this link >>    https://ivors20.wordpress.com/2017/09/23/my-dragon-the-trilogy-2/                                                                                           I know my dragon is very fond of the local swans residing nearby on Corio Bay.

 

There are readers of mine who would remember my Lizard Of Wizardry, Lizzy, who(it has been suggested) was the reincarnation of my little furry friend, Lily, and if you’d like to read about Lizzy the lizard, click on this link >>https://ivors20.wordpress.com/2017/11/07/lily-and-a-lizard-of-wizardry-2/

I do miss my little dog Lily, and we both enjoyed our walks to the lovely bush setting of the Moorabool Valley Chocolate Cafe. Every now and then we would encounter a cheeky magpie on the Cafe’s outside patio area, and below, photos of the magpie and, lily proudly sitting in her wild natural habitat. I also wrote a poem about that cheeky magpie, click here on this link >>https://ivors20.wordpress.com/2017/10/15/cheeky-magpie/

 

Ivor Steven (c)  2018

 

Time Travelers

For my readers, followers, friends and all those who doubt my connection to our unidentified Aliens, my “Mothership” landed for a visit today, to check-up on how I was handling the planet earth’s present dilemmas, and I’m afraid I had to report that the situation here is stagnant and quite grim.  

Zap, a gigantic lightening bolt precedes a mystical power surge

Traversing the cobalt skies, like horizontally sleek outriggers

Vividly scoring chords to hang our every word on

Like musical lines, writing out our lost dreams and regrets

 

Sound-waves echoing, poles apart, going north, south, east and west

Conducting iridescent lights over our purple and orange sunset

Vibrating quasars, pulsating from deeply inside, outer-space

Focusing towards the huge magnetic Receiving Dish, signalling “An Arrival”

 

 

Recording a celestial traveler, singing with an angel’s voice

Resonating sweetly, like Handel’s, Messiah Hallelujah Chorus

Translated into our universal language of symphonic sound

Digitally televised for the world’s population to simultaneously view

 

The Super-Sonic Cosmic message to be heard loud and clear

“We’ve returned to your degraded planet earth”

“To again, bestow upon you, Peace And Goodwill”

“Like we’ve done before, Eons of Millenniums ago”

 

Ivor Steven  (c)

Beyond Today There Is Tomorrow

Beyond the broken porthole

I stand on a basin pedestal

I’m going down with the ship

She left the wreck last week

Left my bones in the bathroom

Drowning in the blue lagoon

**********

Last night there was a fire down the street

On the other side of the creek

I heard the commotion in my sleep

The old farmhouse was burnt to the ground

And lingering smoke on the water whispered sounds

Of memories lost and a loyal dachshund

***********

The Alien poet’s brain

Is a fascinating place

A distant surreal view

Hooked, like a fish on a line

Laying tomorrows foundations

On old pieces of used paper

Using dried up ink as mortar

And the sky is the work’s next brick

Remembering yesterdays sunshine

Is today’s dawn and beyond

 

Ivor Steven (c)  2018

My Dragon, The Trilogy

The Sandbox Writing Challenge 2018 — Exercise 26

What makes life magical?  For me it’s magical when I read my “My Dragon” poems to my friend’s children, as they sit down around me, and listen intently to my every word, yes, that is What makes life magical.

 

My Dragon

 

A monstrous Dragon, breathing fire.

Did arise from the gurgling mire.

Dark gangrenous green, from head to tails.

Claws blackened, sharp as nails.

Purple secretions, from his scaly chest.

A spear lampooned, a grizzly mess.

Nostrils ablaze, bloodied red.

Eyes seeping yellow maggot heads.

My Dragons crying, and nearly dead.

 

My Dragon, The Revival

 

My lampooned Dragon’s, fallen and out of breath.

Gazing around, pleading, near death.

The Slayer’s spear, protrudes from his scaly vest.

And I quietly hear his soulful pounding chest.

Quickly, I plunge my sword, cutting shard.

Removing the spears horrid barb.

My Dragon exhales a fearsome howl.

Eyes bulging, tears flowing down his jowl.

In agony, thrashing his spiky green tail.

Then slowly abating, like a windless sail.

Is he dying, lying there loudly groaning.

Nostrils snorting, neither afire nor smoking.

Suddenly, his left-wing begins flapping.

And my Dragon’s head rises, stretching, arching.

Green horns twitching, like a mythical serpentine.

Yellow eyes glowing, like magical sunshine.

My Dragon’s revived.

And ready to skydive.

 

My Dragon, Can He Fly

 

My wounded Dragon, stands so proud.

Neck arching up, looking to the clouds.

Seeing graceful birds flying apart.

He feels a huge scar close to his heart.

My Dragon bows, and shakes his beastly head.

But his enormous tail feels like lead.

Flapping one wing, then the other.

Dejected he looks, not even a hover.

Nostrils snorting, no sign of fire.

To fly again, his deepest desire.

From within I hear, gut-rumblings soar.

My Dragon angrily spews an almighty roar.

And his gigantic jaws open wide.

A bloodied tongue swishes his fangs side to side.

He swallows and belches another gruesome howl.

A flame burst forth from his boughs.

My Dragon frantically begins to respire.

Again and again his exhales are afire.

And gyrating his heavy green tail.

He spreads his wings like full sails.

Frightened at first, fluttering end to end.

My jumbo sized reptile gradually ascends.

Twenty, then fifty, a hundred leagues above.

Suddenly flying, like a flock of beautiful doves.

Magically rolling and frolicking he flies

Happily he shrieks and swoosh, rapidly down he dives.

Majestically gliding, he arrives.

My Dragon, again King of the skies.

 

Ivor Steven (c)  2018

 

 

Time’s Awry

Last night I awoke in a pool of blood

Surviving Noah’s great flood

There was no bleeding horse head

It wasn’t a dream, I wasn’t dead

The nightlight died instead

A dark shadow engulfed my bed

Sheets of oozy dripping threads

A deep flowing red

From where, I do dread

Petrified, motionless I’m spread

 

The hole in my heart is dry

Fearful tears of crystal white I cry

My bloodshot eyes are weeping, time’s awry

Puddles of gore descend from the Boar’s sty

Visions of devils and angels pass my eyes

I’m not ready to say my goodbyes

Am I suddenly being nailed to the cross to die

Or is it, that cupids’ arrow in my thigh

 

Featured Image: The “You Yang” hills/mountains, just north of Geelong, for my dear friend Colleen of “Chatter Blog”

 

Ivor Steven (c)  2018

The Other Side Of Red White And Blue

Happy “Independence Day” to my American friends, I suppose this is an appropriate day/time to repost this previous poem of mine, and beware as your party’s are moving into full swing

 

It was the fourth of July

The party seems to be finished

Wondering how long I dozed off for

Most of my friends have gone

A few bodies left, laying on the floor

Best I have a piss before I go

Now where’s that bathroom

Whoops, there’s a girl in here

Dressed all in blue, and she’s on the floor

Slouched in the corner, not moving

Her skins “a whiter shade of pale” *

Red lip-stick all askew

Then I see myself in the mirror

Agape, my white shirt’s moist and filthy

Splattered, deep dark red

Oh no ! It’s human blood

I turn the crumpled girl over

Her pretty blue dress, covered in blood too

What’s happened, I can’t remember

Only blurry images of red white and blue

My mind goes numb

And my legs start running

Out of here in a hurry

“Thump”, I trip over

I thought that bloke was asleep

I didn’t notice at first

His red shirt’s also oozing out blood

Holy hell, he’s dead too

I’m stumbling through the front door

Grappling, panicking, now where

Where do I flee to.

Think ! Yes, a nearby Church

Has an early dawn service

A sanctuary for my burning fears

And bumbling into the Church I go

Settling upon the nearest pew

I’m white as a ghost and turn to see who’s beside me

An eerily stunning red-haired girl

Wearing a dress of red white and blue

Memory flashes back, it’s Her, from the party

She’s staring at me now, with livid red and white eyes

I see fangs protruding over her blue lips

Dribbling fresh blood, hissing at me

She gurgles, “Did I miss one”

The Filia Sanguine suddenly grabs my arm

And her dark-blue fingernails dig deep

I’m seized, I’m gone, I know

There’s no safe haven here

“Where do you go to my lovely”**

Screaming tears of red white and blue

 

Ivor Steven (c)  2018

* A Whiter Shade Of Pale, Procol Hurum song Title 1967.

**Where Do You Go To My Lovely, Peter Sarstedt song Title 1969

We Are Not Worthy, Nor Grand

The Sandbox Writing Challenge 2018 — Exercise 23

 

maya writing.1

`
What message just for you
is hidden in this ancient writing?

We Are Not Worthy Nor Grand

 

The Time-travelers have been and gone

Transcending the stars and beyond

Leaving us the message carved in stone

Obvious warnings, pointing the bone

“You are not worthy, nor grand

to care for Mother Earth’s beautiful land”

Decrying our humankinds faults

Locking our world’s children in vaults

Poisoning our plants, rivers, and seas

Contaminating the air we breathe

Burning our forests

Vehicle fumes

Nuclear bombs

Rulers greed

Before we even feed

Our fellow-man

Slaughter upon slaughter

Like we’re lambs

Guns and bullets

Millions for every bloody stand

Like seeds in our hands

Not giving life, only death and sand

We are not worthy, nor grand

It’s time, to make a stand

Who’s going to lead our band

 

“It’s Time”,  https://ivors20.wordpress.com/2017/07/25/its-time/

Ivor Steven (c)  2018