Heavy And Hollow, The Whitehouse Door

I’m too tired to continue

Carrying this Olympus torch

The flame is not staying alight

Under my sheltering porch

All I want to do

Is watch the birds

And selfishly forget

The hungry and dying herds

My bell has become too hollow

To ring against the war

Too heavy to lift

High above the floor

Too wide to pass

Through the Whitehouse door

Too noisy to tell

Humanity the real score

Soon we’ll all board the Ark

Row away from our shores

Fly our rescue flag aft

Explore the sky with Thor

Listen to the heavens

Hear the peace-bells last encore

Proudly ring the bells that still can ring

Chiming so loud, no-one can ignore

Ivor Steven (c) 2019

Silent Sky

I am also posting this poem “Silent Sky,” on “Go Dog Go Café” via the fantastic idea of “Promote Yourself Monday”.. << Click here

My morning sky is silent

An empty clear blue vent

A vast quietness

Cloudless and soundless

The world has turned mute

We cannot hear

The whales crying

We no longer see

The birds flying

We now refuse to speak

Words of peace, they’re slowly dying

My morning sky has no sun

Spent gold, overused, and undone

A grey dullness

Viewless, a hollow darkness

The world has lost sight

We no longer see

Industrious bees

We cannot hear

The animals fear

We now deny the people’s voice

Words of peace, our children’s choice

Ivor Steven (c) 2019

A White Wall, Whiter Than White

 

I’m lying here in my white-walled bedroom

My body’s been feeling white-hot

The white ceiling fan is cooling me down

Laying under only white sheets

Covering my white skin

This is not the White House

I don’t lie that much

I’ve not white false hair

So my white halo stays on

Without looking like a silly clown

 

Outside, my great side wall is white

The back courtyard is safe and secure

No non-whites can’t get in or out

Unless they desperately needed to

The great backyard wall

May be easily scaled

With a sturdy white ladder

I’m trumped, here in Australia

Walls don’t even keep out the flies

 

I’ve been reading my history books

The white walls built in the past

They have never lasted

Over they climbed

Or under they crawled

The walls were eaten by dust mites

Resilient as a feather duster

And pulled down by liberators, in disdain and shame

 

Ivor Steve (c)  2019

Hear The Thunder

My tired voice is crying out, “there’s no time to wait !!”

Pleading, along with the world’s impatient majority

We need to hear the thunder, of peace bells ringing

Ringing to the crescendo of peace doves singing

 

The chimes are loud and clear

Loud enough for the universe to hear

Even through white marble walls

You’ll hear the thunder of the peace bell’s … call

 

We the people, from the planet’s four corners

Are united by our textiles woven together

We’ve attached our hands firmly to the bell pull

And tugging the pull cords, the thunder of the bells shall ring

 

We are gathering in every backyard

Every church hall

Every city street

Every farmers paddock

 

Every heavenly peace dove is escaping

You will see the doves flying high above

Even through the towers of tinted glass

You’ll see the peace doves … soar

 

Even through their white marble walls

They’ll hear the thunder of the peace bells … call

Even through their towers of tinted glass

They’ll hear the crescendo of the peace doves … call

 

Hear the thunder of peace bells ringing

Hear the crescendo of peace doves singing

 

Ivor Steven (c)  2019

Calmness On The Bay

There’s a serene tranquil calmness

Hovering over this panoramic bay

The cloudy sky’s silkily reflected

Upon it’s benign smooth waters

The shoreline’s fresh-air is gently cool

Creating a peaceful atmosphere of awe and wonder

Impressing local onlookers and tourist alike

Beholding a picturesque, enchanting balminess

Soothing to all those enraptured souls

Fortunate to view the waterfronts afternoon artistry

Blue Yonder: By David Francey, Lyrics

Here on the ground
It’s a long way down
To the land down under
And all I want to do
Is ride into the blue yonder
Id’ beep in the sky
And I’d be higher than high
And it’s no wonder
That all I want to do
Is ride into the blue yonder
Into the blue yonder
Into the blue yonder
All I want to do
Is ride into the blue yonder
I’d be up in the clouds
And I’d be laughing out loud
With the world to wander
And all I want to do
Is ride into the blue yonder
I’ll be into the blue
And I’ll be gone and through
And I’ll be out from under
And all I want to do
Is ride into the blue yonder
Into the blue yonder

Into the blue yonder

All I want to do

Is ride into the blue yonder

Ivor Steven (c) 2019

A Picture Story

Every picture tells a story

I will not show the bloody war pictures

No need to add to the gruesome tale

Everybody knows the score

Our leaders know, how many were lost at war

Instead, I’ve a different photo, of a tablecloth

A wedding gift of my parents

Now my family heirloom

Aged over seventy years old

Embroidered Peacocks on fine linen

I wonder how often the tablecloth has been used

Not as many times as nuclear bombs have been fused

How many people have sat around the tablecloth and eaten

Not as many people as the war’s have maimed and beaten

Ask world politicians and know-all dictators

They’ll all know the forgotten bloody score

That’s my enduring tablecloth picture story

Same old hidden facts of hell and rancid glory

 

Ivor Steven (c)  2019

 

A Hard Rain’s A-Gonna Fall On Polar Bears

The foreigners have quietly landed

Wood from our trees has all been sanded

We’re a country without doors

Surrounded by golden shores

The openings are cast and vast

And the alien’s time is here at last

I cannot stop them, nor can you

If it be their will

Then, let it be

Join them, do not flee

We’ll all be hand in hand

To become the promised land

So let us be great again

Do not worry about the hard-rain

Do not consider the broken light

Forget about the rainstorm tonight

Who cares about Polar Bear’s with no ice

Leaders say “Enjoy now, no matter the price”

Sorry, we cannot send the politicians a banquet of flowers

All flowers are in crystal vases, within the moguls ivory towers

 

 

Ivor Steven (c)  2019