“I See The Universe In A Blade Of Grass”

FIFTY YEARS AGO — WE SANG THIS SONG

 

“I See The Universe In A Blade Of Grass” **

I’m exhausted

And wearing paper-thin

I’ve been crying too often

My salty tears

Have dried my skin

Cracked the corners of my eyes

And etched my chin

My retina’s are burning

X-rays through hedges

My troubled bridge is worn

I cannot see the dawn

I sit alone and stare

At this daily glare

From the children over there

Innocent eyes looking sad and bare

Desperate for care

Gasping for free air

 

** These words are taken from a line in Sean Rowe’s song, The Lonely Maze, 2012.

 

Ivor Steven (c)  2018

 

Dear Friends, A Letter To You

Dear friends

Last night I went out

Enjoyed myself

Good company and plenty of fun

There were some children there

I saw the children laughing

At the foolish antics

Of us silly adults

I arrived back home

After midnight

Then I read in bed

Some of my blog comments

Responses to my recent poems

About “We can help the children”

I was deeply touched

I started crying

Emotions tore at my heartstrings

Tears flooded my soul

Your replies were sincere

And compassionately moving

Dear friends

I thank you

One and all

May our solidarity

“Help the children”

 

 

Ivor Steven (c)  2018

Tit Bits #13

This is my 13th writing of “Tit Bits”, and coincidently today is Friday 13th. I’m not sure whether this means good luck or bad luck for my post today ??

Our pain is like rain

The pain comes and goes

Heavy and light

He’s got us trumped

There’s more poison

In his venom

The facts are there, for all to see

But all the blind eyes are covered in cotton wool

Their ears are buried in the sand

And toes paddling in their own bullshit quagmire

Now is the time to help

Doing the little things that count

Little step after little step

And in time they become one big stride

I hope these tears of mine

Become the glassy mirrors

Of hope

For the frightened children

They need our love

Love is a life-line

Love feeds a soul

Love revives a heart

Love is the meaning of life

Life is love

 

Ivor Steven (c)  2018 

 

I Am Not A Child, I Am An Adult, I Can Help

As a poet I’ve been on a writing campaign for the suffering children throughout the world, and I’ve developed a special interest in the awful situation of the misplaced, separated and lost refugee children in Texas, and with the help of Niki Flow, I’m a supporter and contributor of the “Texas Civil Rights Project”, and some of you may have already read her article,   https://nikiflow.wordpress.com/2018/07/06/updates-from-texas/ If you would like to donate to the Project group,  https://texascivilrightsproject.org/donate/

 “If we don’t stand up for children, then we don’t stand for much.” – Marian Wright Edelman. 

I’m going to re-present these 5 poems that I’ve written since June 22nd, Blind And Unkind, We Are Not Worthy Nor Grand, When Do They Play, Together We Can Help, Let Us Not Be Silent

Blind And Unkind

What are you leaders fighting for

What happens when all the trees are gone

What do your empty heads actually see

Do you have sack-clothes covering your eyes

Do you have a finger stuck in your noses

Do you know the smell of life or death

Where’s your collective greed going to

Where’s your silent mouths and ears

Where’s the air we breathe

What are you world rulers doing to our land

What happens when the oceans are poison

What do you egotists sip on

Why are you deaf dumb and blind

Why are you arrogant and unkind

Why are you ignoring the future of mankind

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

 

For the innocent children. “There can be no keener revelation of a society’s soul than the way in which it treat its children.” – Nelson Mandela.

When Do They Play

Our emotions are boiling on high

Lowly governments are hiding like spies

When do the children play

Where do their Moms and Dads stay

Why should we have to pray

This is not our humane way

Promised tomorrows should be theirs today

Please, when do the children play

Quote #2, “Together We Can Help”

“Fellow Writers, We Have The Power, We Have A Voice, We Have A Pen, Collectively, We’re Able To Help, Help The Children Of The World, Stop Them Crying For Help.”

Together We Can Help

 

It’s Time

Time to have a say

Voice your feelings

Tell your stories

Use your pen

Speak from your soul

Talk about their little feet

Feel their mammas heartbeat

Give your all

Walk tall

We need to help

Children is my prompt

Lets do the stomp

It’s your call

One and all

Don’t let the children crawl

Save them before they fall

Let Us Not Be Silent

Let Us Not Be Silent

Let us not turn a blind eye

Clear the dark clouds from our sky

Extract our heads from the sand

Join our national brass band

Blow loudly on your trumpets

Let us stop being pawns and puppets

We’re not the sheep of their lands

We can be the blanket for our lambs

A collective sheet, protective and grand

 

Let us not be silent and bland

Clear the stage, make a stand

The worlds suffering children need us

Before they’re herded onto the bus

Like lambs to the slaughter

Imagine, our sons and daughters

Laying on concrete, alone and caged

Crying, weeping, could it be our ice-age

We’re distraught and outraged

Compassion, love, is paramount on centre-stage

 

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

A Baby Book, The Four Of Us

Weekly Prompts–  Photo Challenge –   Timeworn                                                                    I’ve found this baby book of my dad’s. The book is nearly 70 years old, given to my parents by my grandmother, my mothers mom, to celebrate the birth of my older brother, Danny

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Above, bottom right, my parents with Danny. 1949.

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Above, my dad’s log of Danny’s first 4 weeks.

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Above, in the left frame, my grandmother, Elizabeth, with Danny, and on the right, my mom, Esther, with Danny.

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Then came Ivor and my little brother, Lawrence.

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And finally mom had a daughter that she always wanted, Myfanwy Glenys, and interestingly dad also logged the birth of Myfanwy’s daughter April.

Oh… This is a later attachment, have been feeling quite nostalgic since I posted this article, and I’m adding this lovely song, I hope you enjoy.

 

Ivor Steven (c)  2018