It Was On The Tip Of My Tongue

I awoke unexpectedly

Suddenly the mind had kicked in

My cogs were grinding and searching

Seeking that lost memory inside me head

That annoying buzz has been bugging me

Teasing me about that location

That place I couldn’t remember

The name was on the tip of my tongue yesterday*


But recalling that name had eluded me

Three o’clock in the morning

My eyes are wide open

Old cloudy visions, are now clearing

Up there, in bright neon lights

Of course, that’s the missing name

And my brain is not dead

Answer solved, back to sleep for my head


  • * The name that was on the tip of my tongue was a place in Philadelphia, called the Reading Terminal Market, I’ll attach a Link here


Iver Steven (c)  June 2019

Birds Of A Feather

The Midweek Word Prompt is : Humour  . Here, I’ve attempted a piece of sarcastic humour, in my poem about, the human’s unusual skin pigments.

And a big thank you To V.J. Knutson, with her poem “Even Colourless, Still A Flower”, being the source of my inspiration behind my poem today

Birds Of A Feather


to colour us all tanned

black or white

didn’t seem right

even a humorous sight

maybe blue and green

would’ve been a better blight

and I’ve been told orange

is a preferred skin tone

best we have more colours

I’ll go buy the paint drums

toss them together

shaken, not stirred

into one huge cocktail dish

and use a whale-hair paint brush

we’ll all be covered the same

a faded colour purple

like tarnished rain clouds

not too dark

not too proud

not too white

just bright enough

to see the light


Please Note: The featured image above, is called ‘Four Birds’, by an Australian artist, Patsy Anguburra Lulpunda, at the Aboriginal Art Gallery


Ivor Steven (c)  June 2019

Juggling Our World

Are we lazy computer hacks

Blindly laying on our backs

Not caring for this solitary girl

Headlessly juggling our world

Placing nature in a guillotine of doubt

Ignoring her tears, inside and out

Tossing her grains of sand

From our feet into empty hands

Not catching her falling  dust

Upon yesterdays stolen trust

Washing down foreign lands

With bullet holed cans

Collecting  dirty money

From polluted milk and honey

Leaving undead souls

No air to breathe, and no goals

Throwing poisoned daggers into our hearts

Fearing our babies tainted blood, with every new restart


To Leave Something Behind, By Sean Rowe. Lyrics

I cannot say that I know you well
But you can’t lie to me with all these books that you sell
I’m not trying to follow you to the end of the world
I’m just trying to leave something behind

Words have come from men and mouse
But I can’t help thinking that I’ve heard the wrong crowd
When all the water is gone my job will be too
And I’m trying to leave something behind

Oh money is free but love costs more than our bread
And the ceiling is hard to reach
Oh the future ahead is broken and red
But I’m trying to leave something behind

This whole world is a foreign land
We swallow the moon but we don’t know our own hand
We’re running with the case but we ain’t got the gold
Yet we’re trying to leave something behind

My friends I believe we are at the wrong fight
And I cannot read what I did not write
I’ve been to His house, but the master is gone
But I’d like to leave something behind

There is a beast who has taken my brain
You can put me to bed but you can’t feel my pain
When the machine has taken the soul from the man
It’s time to leave something behind

Oh money is free but love costs more than our bread
And the ceiling is hard to reach
Oh the future ahead is already dead
So I’m trying to leave something behind

I got this feeling that I’m still at the shore
And pockets don’t know what it means to be poor
I can get through the wall if you give me a door
So I can leave something behind

Oh wisdom is lost in the trees somewhere
You’re not going to find it in some mental gray hair
It’s locked up from those who hurry ahead
And it’s time to leave something behind

Oh money is free but love costs more than our bread
And the ceiling is hard to reach
When my son is a man he will know what I meant
I was just trying to leave something behind
I was just trying to leave something behind





Ivor Steven (c)  June 2019

My Alien Eyes Have Seen Enough

This is one of my ranting/protesting poems, where the world’s weird ways and woes are vividly pictured in the dreams/nightmares of mine…. And I’m presenting this on “Go Dog Go Cafe’s”, Promote Yourself Monday’s. Please go over and visit their wonderful site, Click >> Here

My Alien Eyes Have Seen Enough


I’m scattering stardust, upon sorrow and grace

Tip toeing through a desert of dying tulips

Before my species vacate this miserable place

Blasting away from here, in my Itmims* spaceship

Flying back into the depths of dark space

To regenerate and revive, from this trying trip


Finally, we gathered nothing of any value

From this warring human race

Their radioactive sky, was once bright blue

Vast oceans are full of their own waste

They breathe thin air made of sticky glue

And the earth they walk on, is a garbage tip disgrace


Their concrete graveyards, are the warlords database

Women and children, dead, casualties of religious lunatics

My alien eyes have seen enough, I’m leaving without a trace

Political gamer’s never learn, they’re still reusing old septic ice-picks


  • *Ivor’s Time Machine In Micro Space



Ivor Steven (c)  2019

This Is What Matters

My Thursday evenings, are a boys night out

As usual, we drank and chattered

Opinions on every general topic

No politics nor religion

We talk about important issues

Mainly, travel, music and sports

Lively banter, of who’s who

Any, this and thats

We know what matters

And how to save a world in tatters


Then I was asked about my trip

My adventures in New York

And the meeting of my cousins and their families

In the warmth of Philadelphia

Fondly, I mentioned my time there

With cousins Ken, Maureen and Terry

And of course, my special niece, Kerri

I explained how they thoroughly spoilt me

I said “Truly the best time of my life”

Slowly tears welled in my eyes

And my friends, saw the liquid joy in my heart




Ivor Steven (c)  2019