Beyond Today There Is Tomorrow

Beyond the broken porthole

I stand on a basin pedestal

I’m going down with the ship

She left the wreck last week

Left my bones in the bathroom

Drowning in the blue lagoon


Last night there was a fire down the street

On the other side of the creek

I heard the commotion in my sleep

The old farmhouse was burnt to the ground

And lingering smoke on the water whispered sounds

Of memories lost and a loyal dachshund


The Alien poet’s brain

Is a fascinating place

A distant surreal view

Hooked, like a fish on a line

Laying tomorrows foundations

On old pieces of used paper

Using dried up ink as mortar

And the sky is the work’s next brick

Remembering yesterdays sunshine

Is today’s dawn and beyond


Ivor Steven (c)  2018

Quote #5, And, Quote #6

            “The sound of nature

            the voice of our future

              rings loud and clear

the Symphony of life we need to hear”       

– Ivor Steven




 ” Where there is nature, there is life

       without nature there is no life”             

– Ivor Steven



Ivor Steven (c)  2018


Words, Lost And Found

When your senses are blind

Driving you out of your mind

How do you find that word

Unique and unheard

Lost, gone out of your head

Not there, under your unmade bed

Nor between your untidy sheets

Removed during your midnight heat

You’ve searched along every note-pad line

Flicked through grandpa’s dictionary overtime

The missing word is yet to be found

Your dog stares at you, as if you’re unsound

It’s somewhere, you wrote it down

The word, to be your poem’s crown

Shaking your brain, side to side

Rattle, rattle, adjectives clash inside

Suddenly you remember

It’s something about December

How could you forget

The fallen Refugee reject

Cutting himself on his old sword

Swearing, “restitution”, is the word

Ivor Steven (c) 2018

Across The Hallway

 Sunday morning bliss 

A memory, a wish 

Confirmation, of a promise 

A togetherness kiss 


My tears do dwell 

I was under her spell 

There’s no need for show and tell 

You know my heart well 


There’s a memory lane 

Within my sighing veins 

Pumping slowly, flowing deep 

A river of dreams that never sleep 


Visions of a begone life 

A joyful husband and wife 

The glory days are gone 

Happily, I’ve begun to move on 

And remember with fondness 

Our first, and last kiss 



Ivor Steven (c)  2018

A Morning Kiss

Photo Challenge Laundry Day

Yep a photo of my little laundry, untouched, on this sunny Sunday morning, and below, if I had done the washing, is a photo of my clothes line under my Verandah, my laundry day didn’t happen. My Saturday night’s over indulgence has developed into a Sunday morning hangover, and my dirty washing will be still there again on Monday !! Monday often becomes my laundry day……… and also below, a few words I wrote this morning instead of doing the washing, yes, definitely a lot more fun, and far more comforting for this self-inflicted headache of mine…….
A Morning Kiss
Your lips taste of warm honey
Sweetly delicious
Our kiss lusciously melts into one
Firmly moist
We lovingly smile, a honeymoon embrace
Divinely entwined
And a pleasant Sunday morning song by Nick Cave.
Ivor Steven (c)  2018

The Dark Streets

I’ve been listening to The Waterboys songs lately, their lyrics are meaningful and their music is always dramatic. In this following piece of mine I’ve used 18 of their song Titles as the foundation for my poem. To other Waterboys fans who read this post, I hope my words have done The Waterboys the justice they deserve, by all their glorious songs. For those readers, and me, who are struggling with the italics and too many capital letters, below at the bottom of the post, is an easy reading version.

The combined Trumpets of the world are sounding

Being carried on today’s Lonesome Old Wind

Resonating loudly for The Stolen Child

And Choirs are singing The Faery’s Last Song


Where did their promise go, and there’s no Sweet Thing in sight

Will the children get to view The Whole Of The Moon again

When will they ever cry out, “This Is The Sea”

Searching for their parents, crying “Where Are You Now When I Need You”


Children crawling Down Through The Dark Streets

Cowering under black clouds and Purple Rain

In A Pagan Place, created by governments

Shamefully they have Let It Happen


Our leaders need a wake-up call And A Bang On The Ear

When will they tell us “The Healing Has Begun”

We Will Not Be Lovers anymore, until

They declare to the last refugee girl, “She Is So Beautiful”


Let us hope the children suffer no Red Army Blues

And need not worry about being Too Close To Heaven

A big thank you to my friend Chris Black of, A way with words. for inspiring me to write another one these poems using song titles, the last one I wrote was on December 2nd 2017.

The Waterboys Lyrics

“Down Through The Dark Streets”

Down by old house
Over the bridge
Down through the dark streets
Where we used to live
Out by the cornfield
And the sycamore trees
Down to the water
Will you come, Lassie please?Snow in the town square
December afternoon
Christmas lights
A crescent moon
A boy selling chestnuts
Roasted and brown
Dropping black cinders
That hiss on the ground
You and I stand like strangers
In our Hokusai clothes
Like we come from some strange country
That nobody else knows
And to go where the wind blows
Are just the words of thieves
So will you come with me, Lassie
Will you come Lassie, please?There’s a place there by the river
I never showed you before
But when I’m far away
That’s where I go
Outside it’s lamplight
High time we leave
Will you come Lassie, please?The big blue sea between us
Is thousands of miles
It’s cruel I know
But you just have to smile
I’d be back for you
If I could just believe
That everything is right and pure
That everything is right and pure
That everything is right and pure
Will you come, Lassie, please?


The Dark Streets

The combined trumpets of the world are sounding

Being carried on today’s lonesome old wind

Resonating loudly for the stolen child

And Choirs are singing the Faery’s last song


Where did their promise go, and there’s no sweet thing in sight

Will the children get to view the whole of the moon again

When will they ever cry out, “This Is The Sea”

Searching for their parents, crying “Where Are You Now When I Need You”


Children crawling down through the dark streets

Cowering under black clouds and purple rain

In a pagan place, created by governments

Shamefully they have let it happen


Our leaders need a wake-up call and a bang on the ear

When will they tell us “The Healing Has Begun

We will not be lovers anymore, until

They declare to the last refugee girl, “She Is So Beautiful”


Let us hope the children suffer no red army blues

And need not worry about being too close to heaven


Ivor Steven (c)  2018.