Sculptures and Poems
A time to relax and rest
After another bodily test
No poems in my pocket
Nor in my Itmims Rocket
There’s no words left in me
Nor lyrics tied to my tree
I’ve only photos from Saturday
The Sculptors Exhibition day
Ivor Steven (c) October 2019
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
