Arctic Winds.

Ivor.Plumber/Poet

Artwork:  By Kerri Costello, Graphic Design Artist, my beautiful niece/second cousin, who lives in Philadelphia, she’s so very talented, and a very special person in my life, thank you Kerri. More of her Design/Artwork attached below.

Arctic Winds

I’m winter hibernating,

Inside an Eskimo’s hut.

Feeding only on fish oil,

And frozen blue blood.

My heart’s cold and dormant,

Cowering under a dampened vestment.

Pumping only yesteryears rust,

And icicles of my dust.

My eyes are swollen rocks,

Amidst polarized sockets.

Terrorising all that’s passed,

Like forgotten arctic icebergs.

My veins are hollow crevasses,

Inside a glaciers ice-flow.

Sheering and groaning chasms,

Like my memories deepest fjord.

Ivor Steven.

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Mask

Behind my shield

A secret hides

The mask in the mirror

Isn’t my image

Just a shadow

A veneer, brittle and thin

 

The smogs seeping in

Upon my mask’s

Deepest sockets

Oozy false lashes

Dark as pepper, they burn my skin

Scaly wrappings

Grotesquely etched

But the camouflage remains

 

A ceremonial face

Oversees my disguise

Then abruptly soaring aloft

Over oceans and skies

I am a star traveller

Old and wise

So Who am I?

Beyond my alien eyes

 

Ivor Steven.

Inside Out

Artwork:  By, TheFlyTrapMan, artist for the Slasher Monster Magazine, and drawn specifically for my poem, Inside Out, for which I’m truly grateful.

The poem “Inside Out”, is more just a rhyme and a play on a few featured words. Over the road from were I once lived, there was a furniture shop, and the advertising hoarding was, “Inside Out, Exotic Furniture”, well I was sitting there waiting for the bus, and in my minds imagination, I changed the the words to “Inside-out, Upside-down, Erotic Furniture”, and hence my little anecdote was laid….

Inside Out

 

The view of my love seems upside down.

When I’m at the bottom of her flowing gown.

And my erotic picture appears inside out.

What’s this scenic love all about.

 

The ways of my love seem upside down.

When she’s on top, covering me ’til I drown.

And I’m underneath, neither in, nor out.

What’s this crazy love all about.

 

The river of my love seems upside down.

When I’m sitting inside her smiling frown.

And her foreign body hits me in and out.

What’s this exotic love all about.

 

The world of my love seems upside down.

When I’m laying below her pounding mound.

And her endless thrusts, feel inside out.

What’s this frenzied love all about.

 

Ivor Steven

Photo below, I’m sitting at my bedroom computer desk, on this very cold morning, and starting to type out this humourous piece, about nobody and meaning nothing.

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Walking Home

Photo: Courtesy of Peter Styring, Australian Parrots And Birds, you can find his beautiful photos on Peter’s Facebook site.

 

Tis early, very early, presumably a foggy weekend morn.

So early, all the front bedroom lights are out ’til dawn.

And the groaning of lustful lovers, have all been timed out.

Even the yapping old canines, are unusually burnt-out.

 

I’ve been wandering these darkly streets, groping on trust.

Looking for her, a little piece of wonderous stardust.

All I found was a discarded mug of leftover moonshine.

Oh yeah, just like the decadent old days, still I pine.

 

Intoxication setting in again, I’m dreaming unsound.

A girl so mysterious, out here, where to be found.

I stumble, forgetting how to walk, and I hit the ground.

And it’s the end, another fallen night, out on the town.

 

Ivor Steven.

A Single Atom

I see a shooting star, traverse the full-moon.

Like a jungle bushfire, raging out of sight.

I feel the heat of midday, smoothering the night.

Like a warm body, inside her tomb.

I see the dawn, without the golden sun.

Like a Lyrebird, singing all out of tune.

I hear the morning rain, without a cloud in the sky.

Like yesterdays floods, leaving her high and dry.

I see a sandy beach, awash by a tidal wave.

Like a burning desert, water is her grave.

I fill lonely sheets, with empty dreams.

Like a dark chasms’ irrelevant beams.

I see a summer leaf, wilted by a frosty Autumn.

Like an unwatered orchid, opening to an old anthem.

I feel like a splintered heart, inside a single atom.

Like a snakes dead skin, her rejected emblem.

 

Ivor Steven.

 

Now Bestowed.

Another poem by request for “Poet Rummager”, I suppose a poem of new found love, but oh so gushy, for a man who was 62 years old at the time, when a cupids arrow sent me into a whirl, like a child’s  spinning top. I now find the words a little embarrassing, displaying how vulnerable I was then, and probably, I am still now.

 

You gave me your mountain of love.

You showed me the valley of passion.

You gave me your river of happiness.

You showed me your ocean of kindness.

Who am I to deny you.

How can I resist you.

Now, yearning all of you.

Now, time is you.

You gave me your sunshine for living.

You showed me the moonshines warmth.

You gave me your world of devotion.

You showed me your universe within.

Now, has come again.

Now, I love again.

Now, I’ve arisen.

Now, bestowed.

 

Ivor Steven.

It’s Time

We’ll miss you,

Mother Earth,

Your splendour

And imposing style.

From forest canopy’s

To the desert Nile.

New creations,

Beauty, gone.

 

We’ll lose you,

Father Time,

Your rhythm

And stoic guile.

From ancient history,

To the future files.

New millennia,

Awaiting, gone.

 

Special thanks to,  diaryofasoulwriter,  inspiring me with her wonderful writings about love and nature, view her poem, ”Unexpected Sight”. Photo, taken at Hollybank Nature Park, Tasmania.

Ivor Steven

 

Two Dogs, Ten Days.

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I’m happily in possession of two little dogs for the next ten days. My girl Lily, and my brother’s dog, Tina, also a little cute white fluffy girl. Tina had trouble settling in, after my brother left to go on his holiday to Fraser Island, Queensland. At bedtime, Tina was fretting and scratching at the bedroom door, obviously wanting to leave the house and find her beloved master. After several tries at placing her in “her bed”, oh what to do, to settle her down…… then I came up with the idea(brilliant) of  placing Lily and her bed in front of Tina’s igloo style bed…… well, the little trick worked, Tina slept like a log(snoring) for the rest of the night until 9.30 in the morning, haha, feeling like I’m the “Dog Whisperer”…

Below, Lily and Tina, on their 3km walk with Ivor this afternoon, both girls getting on well, and Tina thinks I’m ok now.

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Ivor Steven.