Feet and Excuses

Hello dear readers, I’ve written two Haiku’s recently, and I’m going to present them here as one piece, I have a feeling they might like to dance together…..

 

Feet

Truly nature’s treat

Standing amongst forest trees

Earth’s caressing feet

 

Excuses

Life’s, not excuses

The word, does not have uses

Let nature’s feet dance

 

Ivor Steven (c) October 2019

Poseidon’s Sinking

I was told

Love makes the world

Go around

But when I see a globe

I do frown

And I’ve been mistaken

For a red-nosed clown

Or an all-day sucker

A silly blue moon

On a plastic stick

Laughing at our ground

Overflowing with waste

Thrashing and splashing

Gasping polluted air

Earth’s starting to drown

Swallowing on greens and browns

From her melted crown

And Poseidon’s sinking down

 

Ivor Steven (c)  October 2019

Mosquitoes and Bees

Feature Image: My photo of, Barbara Roe Hebb’s, sculpture, “Pollen Pals”, at the Geelong Sculptors Inc. Annual Exhibition, 101 Ryrie Street, Geelong, where the theme of the exhibition was, ‘Who’s Your Muse’, and I’m presenting this poem for the writers part of the event, tomorrow afternoon.

 

 

Mosquitoes and Bees 

 

I was asked the question, “who’s your muse”

My mind flew into overdrive, now I’ll have to chose

Years ago the answer would have been, my Queen

The lady who was always in my dreams

Living longer than her, altered my life’s mission

Spending time alone, enlightened my vision

Mindful thoughts were constantly buzzing

I’d learnt enough to know, this world’s not humming

 

Nature’s lifeblood, mosquitoes, bees

And the air we breath, sheltered by life giving trees

Are the persecuted convicts of corporate greed

Leaving us, the planet’s custodians, begging on our knees

The bees pollinating wings, have been broken

And purifying forests, have been stolen

It’s time, to dismount the angel’s white ponies

And ask my muse Melpomene, please save earth’s colonies

 

 

 

Time Jesum Transeuntum et Non Riverentum, Lyrics

Nick Cave, Dirty Three

We were called to the forest
And we went down
A wind wind blew warm and eloquent

We were searching for the secrets of the universe
We rounded up demons and forced them
To tell us what it all meant

We tied them to trees
And broke them down, one by one
On a scrap of paper they wrote these words

(And as we read them, the sun broke
Through the trees)

Dread the passage of jesus, for he will not return
Then we headed back to our world
And left the forest behind
Our hearts singing with all the knowledge of love

But somewhere, somehow, we lost the message
Along the way
And when we got home, we bought ourselves a house

And we bought a car that we did not use
And we bought a cage,and two singing birds
And at night we’d sit and listen to the canary song

For we’d both run right out of words
Now the stars they are all angled wrong
And the sun and the moon refuse to burn

But I remember a message
In a demon’s hand

Dread the passage of jesus, for he does not return
He does not return
He does not return

Ivor Steven (c) October 2019

Hidden Stories

A few years ago, I was fortunate to have a girlfriend called Sue

This morning I was listening to this tune on YouTube

And I thought, isn’t life intriguing, how songs can trigger our memories

The happy and sad times, of many hidden stories

I’ve always been a respectful man, and in my mind, the secrets will stay

And I’ll continue on my way, with a smile in my heart, remembering the good days

The song by “Dirty Three”, featuring Warren Ellis on violin…… and Warren is the violinist for Nick Cave’s backing band “The Bad Seeds”…..enjoy….

Ivor Steven (c) October 2019

Water-logged Boots

Yes, I am small in this overburdened world

But I flutter freely when unfurled

I could be a family picture collage

Or a tiny squirrel amongst the foliage

On his journey, of ups and downs

Collecting and storing his acorn crowns

 

The trick is to enjoy the ups

While the floodgates are shut

Sometimes, I did nearly drown

Other times, I floated upside down

 

During the many seasonal rains

I wondered, if I’d every swim again

So then, I pretended to write a biblical book

Ignorantly thinking no-one would ever look

 

Afterwards, I thought I could walk on water

Then my boots became water-logged

And if you need to walk a mile in my shoes

You’ll have to learn how to swim, and sing the blues

 

Ivor Steven (c)  October 2019

 

Our Last Stand

Walking barren pastures of sand

With only detergent hands

Old arms are empty of nature’s seeds

I only see, future investment greed

And history’s lessons, are hard to understand

When we’re taught, disrespect by corporate bands

Who only extinguish life, and fracture our lands

Instead of regenerating our planet’s, last stand

 

Ivor Steven (c)  October 2019