Big Black Oil Cap

Hello dear readers, here is another repost of an older poem, this one is from December 2017



Big Black Oil Cap

Not the town’s greatest car lover

An automobile, an object like any other

Petrol guzzlers

Noisy muzzlers

Inanimate metal and plastic, costing plenty of dough

Pity, they do need some care though

Spoilt and fed like a hungry teenager

Cooling water in the radiator

Screw the shiny brass cap back on

Fresh air in the tyres

Screw the little rubber caps back on

Dear-as-poison petrol in the tank

Screw the safety fuel cap back on

Lubricating oil in the engine-head

This is where absent-mindedness overtook instead

Forgot to screw the Big Black Oil Cap back on

Drove to the Big City the next day

Not realizing I’d gone badly awry

Travelled home in a steamy-hot car

Back onto the driveway tar

Oil dripping over the front bumper-bar

Opened the bonnet. Aaaahhh!

The engine is like a whale’s spout

Spurting boiling, slimy oil all about

And there’s that Big Black Oil Cap

Alone on the garage bench

Like a magician’s gleaming black hat

Ivor Steven (c) March 2022

Logically, I Am Here

Today’s poem is one that I wrote while attending a “Writing Circle” meeting, hosted by the talented and gracious, Ali Grimshaw … If you are interested in attending one of her fabulous on-line “Zoom Sessions”, you can visit her site by clicking on this link
>> https://flashlightbatteries.blog/



Logically, I Am Here

Nonsense and logic

What is the difference?

In our world today

A forest breeze

Caresses my senses

Like flowering gum-trees

Free up my defenses

I love nonsense

Is it my best sense?

My most creative sense

Is it my good mood sense?

Free of commonsense

And government expense

Ivor Steven (c) February 2022

Sleepy Hollow

A big thank you to Ingrid > ExperimentsInFiction, for accepting my late entry into her Halloween/ Sonnet Sunday list of articles that she posted on her site..visit her fabulous site via this link >>
https://experimentsinfiction.com/2021/11/01/sleepy-hollow-by-ivor-steven-sonnetsunday/

Featured Image above, and the Photo below, are by Derrick Knight, and thank you to Derrick for kindly allowing me to reproduce his photos on my site.






Sleepy Hollow

We come from a land down-under

Where men eat green pumpkin and cucumber

Our bayside town is called Sleepy Hollow

Where the nights are too quiet for owls and swallows

Here, Halloween spirits live beyond the outer limits

And are only allowed to visit at sunsets dying minutes

During the full moon’s twilight zone 

We drink goanna juice from orange cones

And consume barbecued prawns by the dozen

While watching the bon-fires glow above the blue horizon

We send our children to gather grubs and magic mushrooms

From the haunted paths between the old witch’s tombs

And when they return we all fly away on iridescent brooms

Ivor Steven (c) November 2021

Mad-hatters, No Matter the Season

On “Weekly Prompts” the Wednesday Challenge is, AUTUMN MAGIC. Please go and visit their fabulous site by clicking >> Here and the below poem is my response to their ‘prompt’ ..

Mad-hatters, No Matter the Season

The latter of matter

Did not scale the ladder

The origin of matter 

Is in our hearts pitter-patter

Matter is neither flatter nor fatter 

“What does it matter 

If we are all mad-hatters”?

We are but leaves and twigs of the ground 

Awaiting nature’s beckoning sounds

Ivor Steven (c) Sept 2021

Pink Elephants and One Day to Go

Party, party week

Seven days of giving cheek

Eating and drinking like a hog

Sleeping like a frog on a log

But no leaping and dancing

Just happily dreaming and romancing

 

Friends to meet and greet

Places to go, coffee and sweets

Bones are sagging like old awnings

And I’m smiling at pink elephants in the mornings

There’s a finale fling tonight

Before a last lullaby under starry lights

 

 

Ivor Steven (c)  July 2020

Olsen Olsen by Sigur Ros (english translation)

Two three cats ran,
which is the same as the cats,
two three can check,
where is the brother of one.

pushbutton board,
fruits of the boat,
ask him to eat,
tell her she does not want to.

cempedak fruit outside the fence,
take pole pitch,
I am a newbie,
if you cant show it

No Pinks, Just Chocolate Cakes

I’ve been nominated for a “Sunshine Blogger Award.”, by Vanessa of,  ‘say no to clowns’, As my followers might know, I don’t usually participate in awards, I suppose I feel embarrassed/overwhelmed, and feel like it’s a burden to other readers, to pass on/be nominated. Anyhow, for Vanessa, here’s my answers to her intriguing questions….Thank you to, >>saynotoclowns

What is definitely not your favourite colour?

Pink, It definitely doesn’t suit me. My mom wanted her second child to be a girl (Me), I was originally dressed in pink for a while, after mom had spent months knitting pink outfits for the new baby (Me)

Do you like cake? If not, why?

I’ve been known to eat whole sponge cakes, in one sitting, especially with pink icing, like I’m trying to devour the pink icing, off the face of the planet…….

Can you live without a Smart phone?

I don’t have a smart phone, just a little Android phone. I suppose I use my phone a lot, but in my health situation, it’s a necessary item. And I’m always jotting down notes/lines in my phone, that I could later use in a poem…….

Do you like cake? If not, why?

Chocolate cake is my favourite……

What are your thoughts on clowns?

I never liked clowns at the circus, they used to scare me, and never thought they were the least bit funny, and they wore terrible make-up !!

One of us had to switch to decaf. Can you guess which one of us?

It wouldn’t be me. I don’t drink a lot of coffee, but I do like going to a cafe for a good coffee, and enjoy a chat with a friend, and soaking up the atmosphere created within the cafe….

 

As Vanessa said in her article, “As for my own nominations…actually, I am going to be bold and just tell you., ‘you have been one of the winners of the award’…and that goes for all of you wonderful people who have enriched my blogging life. Thank you so, so much!”. If you feel inclined, maybe you could answer the above questions that Vanessa,put to me……

 

Cheers

Ivor.

It Was On The Tip Of My Tongue

I awoke unexpectedly

Suddenly the mind had kicked in

My cogs were grinding and searching

Seeking that lost memory inside me head

That annoying buzz has been bugging me

Teasing me about that location

That place I couldn’t remember

The name was on the tip of my tongue yesterday*

 

But recalling that name had eluded me

Three o’clock in the morning

My eyes are wide open

Old cloudy visions, are now clearing

Up there, in bright neon lights

Of course, that’s the missing name

And my brain is not dead

Answer solved, back to sleep for my head

 

• * The name that was on the tip of my tongue was a place in Philadelphia, called the Reading Terminal Market, I’ll attach a Link here
•  https://readingterminalmarket.org/

 

Iver Steven (c)  June 2019

Shampoo

My dream-time is imminent

And reality begins to rock my soul

I’m bodily shaking in my shoes

Making my tummy tumble and squirm

Truth has cut me to the bone

Adrenaline’s spurting through my blood

Veins are bursting

Muscles are stiff and bulging

The night is filling with anticipation

Excitement crawls down my skin

Old  hairs are all standing on end

Toes are twitching like never before

Best I slow down my eagerness

And subdue my hullabaloo

Otherwise I’ll forget to pack the shampoo

 

Ivor Steven (c)  2019

Shampoo

Hi dear readers, I’m re-posting this poem, as I post it originally at 3.30 am, and some of my readers may have missed the article. What was I doing, being awake at that time of the morning ???

My dream-time is imminent

And reality begins to rock my soul

I’m bodily shaking in my shoes

Making my tummy tumble and squirm

Truth has cut me to the bone

Adrenaline’s spurting through my blood

Veins are bursting

Muscles are stiff and bulging

The night is filling with anticipation

Excitement crawls down my skin

Old  hairs are all standing on end

Toes are twitching like never before

Best I slow down my eagerness

And subdue my hullabaloo

Otherwise I’ll forget to pack the shampoo

 

Ivor Steven (c)  2019

The Green Witch’s Old Broom

My locked bubble is about to go boom

Too long I’ve been a stranger in my own tomb

Under a concrete lid, hiding my gloom

Where my world was a Hades of doom

 

Now these walls are my life-giving womb

Being reborn as a smiling used groom

I’m breaking out of my master bedroom

Escaping on the green witch’s old broom

 

Flying to the distant land in springtime bloom

Where I won’t have to wear my mask and costume

Discarding my orange Kaftan from Khartoum

I’ll invade the big apple’s newsrooms, to broadcast my poetry heirlooms

 

Ivor Steven (c)  2019