Level Seven

I’m here on level seven

I might nearly see heaven

Suddenly the great wall slaps me hard

With a soul shattering boom

My heart recites to me, her tune of doom

A building of gray bricks

Comes crashing down on me

I’m crying remorseful tears

‘Twas her hospital for thirty years

We would always either be home or here

Backwards and forwards

Short visits, long stays

Inside out, upside down

Wounded hopes, broken dreams

Decades of her gracious courage, never undenied

Now I lay on her memories, here she died

Ivor Steven (c) 2018

A Blue Shark In My bed

I’m lying in bed, hallucinating

They’ve given me too many pain killers

Swimming between soaked sheets

In an ocean of hot sweat

I see a blue shark in my bed

Angrily circling me

That killers glint in his eyes

His giant jaws open wide

And he viciously bites me

Piercing my lower neck

And poking my left eye out

My blood is boiling on the red sea

 

If this is hell, please ring the bell

I shall pray to save my soul, and be set free

I’m swirling in drugs, I cannot think

My eyes are shut, I cannot blink

Where are you mum

I was always your number one

She’d make me my favourite cake

A passion-fruit sponge she’d bake

I sense a benevolent friend, if he’s not too late

Smuggling me a gun, past white guards, inside mum’s cake

 

To you who cannot see me, I’m an ancient fable

Who’s about to leave the table

With the rest of the disabled

I’ll look for you, in your higher stables

How can I find my way back

I’ve lost my winding track

Life for me cannot be the same

I’m not recovering, I’m losing the game

Forgotten my name and where to aim

Destiny has me old and lame

 

 

Ivor  Steven (c)  2018

Cream And Honey

Hi dear readers, I’m re-posting this poem “Cream And Honey”, that I wrote yesterday, especially for those that may have missed it. I’m happy with this piece, the feelings within the words were personally deep and meaningful in their simplicity, and I’ll also be submitting the poem to some magazines, to see if I may be able to get it published. However not many of the poems that I like myself, seem to make it through editors selections.

Cream And Honey

 

I dreamt of what might have been

Dreamt of what I have not seen

Snow on top of lover’s hill

Cream filling my empty till

 

I had forgotten what could have been

Forgotten what I had already seen

Flowers on top of her wooden bier

Honey kisses, and my empty fear

 

I’m dreaming of where I have been

Dreaming of what no-one’s ever seen

Snowflakes silently melting in her palm

Cream and honey, my lovers balm

 

Ivor Steven (c)  2018

Cream And Honey

I dreamt of what might have been

Dreamt of what I have not seen

Snow on top of lover’s hill

Cream filling my empty till

 

I had forgotten what could have been

Forgotten what I had already seen

Flowers on top of her wooden bier

Honey kisses, and my empty fear

 

I’m dreaming of where I have been

Dreaming of what no-one’s ever seen

Snowflakes silently melting in her palm

Cream and honey, a lovers balm

 

Ivor Steven (c)  2018

A Fairy-tale Misread

I’m slowly drifting out of bed

Feeling like an empty wood-shed

There’s a fire within, unfed

Yesterday’s ashes smoulder inside my head

Remembering the day we were wed

The perfect couple they said

A fairy-tale, crystal, silver and golden thread

Our life was a rainbow, yellow, blue and red

Now I dream of you, beneath our bedspread

And I’m sorry, our fairy-tale was misread

 

Everglade,  By Antony And The Johnson’s. Lyrics.

When I’m floating in the water
And your eyes are lilies all around
When I’m lying sweetly in my bed
The sun plays crystal with my eyes

Then I stop
My body stops crying for home
My limbs stop weeping for home

When I’m peeping in a parlour of trees
And the leaves are winking all around
I’m home, my heart sobs in my veins
But brains they play the softest games

Fingers kiss the string
Mouth taste the blade
Of everglade (x3)

 

Ivor Steven (c)  2018

Cloudy Visions

I’m trying to write myself a Mission Statement

Feels like a speech I need to practice in the basement

I’ve never been good at making speeches

They’re messy, like eating mushy soft peaches

 

When I first began writing poetry

My main aim was to teach myself to read and write again

Eighteen years ago this month, I suffered a Stroke

Times become tough, depression drowned this bloke

 

Poetry became my form of self therapy

I listened to music and inspirational lyrics

Leonard Cohen’s songs were always playing

I fervently keep writing

 

My life became a routine, centered around love

The love of caring for my wife, her MS was severe

Writing was my retreat, a place of solace

My world was narrow, I was skating on thin ice

 

Six years ago my wife did pass

My heart turned to water on glass

Then I heard Leonard singing again

His music and words were not in vain

 

I resumed writing my poems

Grieving, words were sad and solemn

Healing takes time

Soulfully I wrote more rhyme

 

I joined local writers groups

My words were out there, under readers boots

On a prompt, I started a website fifteen months ago

My confidence grew, I came in from the snow

 

Wondering what’s my goal, where do I go

There’s many answers I do not know

In the future, I believe a poetry book or two

I’ve volumes of poems, enough to fill my shoes

 

This is my story

My life’s journey

Of cloudy visions

My words, my mission

I used to care about tomorrow’s endings

Now I care about today’s beginnings.

 

Ivor Steven (c)  2018

Tunnel Echos

I’m lying here on the floor, prone again

Pining in vain

Listening to Leonard’s ballads again

Flooding my soul in rain

There’s happy dreams

And shattered dreams

All flying by

Passing under yesterday’s indoor sky

Here today, where’s tomorrow

Drifting through clouds of sorrow

 

My tunnel visions are echoing

Like rusty train wheels, loudly resonating

I’m my old verandah door, swinging

Badly hinged, my feelings are hanging

Knowing I’m a lonely alien widower

Untouchable, like a Hindu follower

Caresses by wandering hands, shunned and cropped

Wondering why my foreign heart suddenly stopped.

Ivor Steven (c)  2018