Paradise Beach

 

Paradise Beach

 

on and on we must go

we the mighty who dare

to venture above and beyond

our drab old vaudeville show

 

join the journey of discovery

out there in search of the Milky Way

swim on our universe’s distant shores

where there’s sure to be a stellar star

completely made of compassion

held together by oceans full of love

 

our beach, a united paradise

one nation, within our reach

 

 

Ivor Steven (c)  July 2020

The Other Side Of Red White And Blue

Suddenly I’m awake, it’s only 1.30 am, what’s happened !!  There’s car horns and cheering, like a New Year Eve’s party, why is there such a rowdy noise going on !!  Yeah…. now I remember… happy 4th of July to all of my American family and friend’s… ENJOY……

 

The Other Side Of Red White And Blue

Poem by Ivor Steven, adapted to prose by Claudia Collins

 

It was the fourth of July. The party seems to be finished. I’m wondering how long I dozed off for. Most of my friends have gone; a few bodies left, lying 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 skin is a whiter shade of pale, red lip-stick all askew.’

Then I see myself in the mirror. My white shirt is moist and filthy; agape, 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 there, in a hurry.

Thump! I trip over. I thought, ‘that bloke is asleep.’ I didn’t notice at first … his red shirt is 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? ‘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 I 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 vivid red and white eyes. I see fangs protruding over her blue lips. Dribbling fresh blood, she hisses at me and 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?’

I’m screaming tears of red, white, and blue.

 

 

Ivor Steven (c)  July 2019

 

 

 

 

 

My Guiding Light

My Guiding Light

Five years have gone bye

But who counts stars in the sky

Or the passing blue moons

Waving shadows upon blue lagoons

A waterfall’s pool of liquid joy

Shimmering memories, of when I was a boy

I shiver from yesteryear’s leftover rains

And there’ll always be a deep river in my veins

Dad, you were a brother and best mate too

And your ever-loving spirit guides me through

Ivor Steven (c) July 2020.

Tullawalla #18 “I, Can Breathe”

Hello dear readers and followers. Over the last 3 days I’ve been preparing and typing madly, to produce my Eighteenth Tullawalla Poetry Booklet….. Because of my recent health issues, the setting out and formulating of the booklet has been quite a task for me….. And I apologise for my absence from your blog sites… my ability to do more than one thing at a time, is now very limited….Anyhow, for new readers that don’t know about these booklets, they are basically the reason why I write poetry. I produce the booklets for the sole purpose of raising funds for my favourite charity organisation, the MS Society, in Australia via the MS Charity Shop here in Geelong. And actually all money’s I receive for any of my poetry .via, submissions, I donate to the MS Society…. I’m proud to announce, that the sale of my “Tullawalla Booklets”, have now gone pass $1300.00, … to all the lovely readers, who have donated, to help achieve such a wonderful amount, a big heartfelt thank you, from “us” and the MS Society … …..Amazingly, there is now a total of “736 poems”, in my collection/series of 18 Tullawalla Booklets. This booklet is finally completed, and ready for sale now !! As always, they are available for purchase, either as a hard copy or a PDF format….. All proceeds go to the MS Charity Shop, here in Geelong West….. Please contact me here through my website page and I can chat about arrangements from there…. Oh, the booklet is called “Tullawalla: “I, Can Breathe”… …. And here is the link to my website >> https://ivors20.wordpress.com

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Ivor Steven (c) July 2020.

There’s a Penguin In My Courtyard

Today I was struggling for a title and the wording of my 2nd line, but after a chat with a friend of mine, a well known poet, who’s, “Living on the equator and longing for snow”. and she inadvertently inspired me, to come up with the title, and complete my second line….

 

There’s a Penguin In My Courtyard

 

my courtyards a frozen pond

cold enough for a penguin

shrouds of ice lay upon the ground

and a crisp sharpness cuts the sound

of the birds unthawed songs of silence

as fernery fronds curl in glaciated defiance

and in the corner there’s a frostbitten spider’s web

while frigidly rigid is the succulent flower bed

above there’s the sun’s ambient saffron disc

the dawn’s prediction that golden days do exist

 

Ivor Steven (c) June 2020

Sharing the Sun

I’m waiting for Aine’s promise

On an outdoor setting of the Box Office

My open eyes don’t see lies

The white icing is only a disguise

Reality lays under the glossy lid

Hiding a secret taste of apple and fig

Together, we’re sharing the sun’s halo

A warm circle of iridescent yellow

Divinely shiny, fresh and mellow

A glorious treat for me to swallow

 

Aine- In Irish mythology, Áine, is the summer sun. Áine is the goddess of wealth, with power over crops and animals and she is sometimes represented by a red horse.

 

 

Ivor Steven (c)  June 2020

Lost, Without a Compass

Lost and isolated, without a compass

Below the dome of justice

Inside the great white shed

Behind faceless masks of dread

Hides a secret constitution misread

And under fire the penguin wears two heads

 

The curtain of the sacred temple

Has been torn down the middle

A shredded divide, created by design

The devils’ chasm, now cleverly enshrined

 

 

Ivor Steven (c)  June 2020