My River Flows, is up at Coffee House Writers Magazine

Hello dear readers and followers, as you may know, I now write for “Coffee House Writers” magazine on a fortnightly basis, and my poem“My River Flows”, is in this weeks edition of Coffee House Writers Magazine. … please click on the link below and visit my poem, at Coffee House Writers >> https://coffeehousewriters.com/my-river-flows/


My River Flows

I am emotionally torn today
Ten years since my lady was lowered away

Nostalgic memories hit me
But fears do not haunt me
Clouds of the past engulf me
But tears do not flood me

My writing desk is in disarray
I wonder
Would she approve of me today

Regretful feelings within me
But fears do not consume me
Shadows of the future scare me
But tears do not drown me

As my river of life
Flows upstream towards my wife

Ivor Steven (c) May 3rd 2022

Life is a Bowl of Fudge, is up at Coffee House Writers Magazine

Hello dear readers and followers, as you may know, I now write for “Coffee House Writers” magazine on a fortnightly basis, and my poem “Life is a Bowl of Fudge”, is in this weeks edition of Coffee House Writers Magazine. … please click on the link below and visit my poem, at Coffee House Writers >> https://coffeehousewriters.com/life-is-a-bowl-of-fudge/



Life is a Bowl of Fudge



Upside Down
Hanging around upside down
Gives you a top view of the ground
Reverses the annoying busy sounds
Lets us think of life’s endless bounds
Day And Night
There’s dark, then light
Like there’s day and night
Sunrise and sunset
Like there’s life and regrets
Life ebbs and flows
Life comes and goes
There’s reality, then dreams
Life’s mixture of honey and cream
Sticky and sweet
Like nature’s silver-beat
Lazy Bones
Cordless phones
Garden gnomes
Overhead drones
Windowless homes
Creaks and moans
Lazy bones
Judge 
I am neither a judge
Nor a dealer in sludge
I would rather eat some fudge
And give my side of life a nudge

Ivor Steven (c) May 3rd 2022

Day One, is up at Coffee House Writers Magazine

Hello dear readers and followers, as you may know, I now write for “Coffee House Writers” magazine on a fortnightly basis, and my poem “Day One”, is in this weeks edition of Coffee House Writers Magazine. … please click on the link below and visit my poem, at Coffee House Writers >> https://coffeehousewriters.com/day-one/



Day One

Before Day One

I wished upon a star
That the milk-bar
Was not too far away
My life’s bread was crumbling
My weathered hands were funmbling
Witnessing the last supper was humbling

Day One

There, beyond the darkness
Out in the universe
From a million light-years away
Under an alien’s microscopic frame
We would all look the same

After Day One

I wished for the dust to settle
Then waited for rusted gunmetal
To mature into household kettles
Whistling hallelujah to new sunflower petals

Ivor Steven (c) April 2022

Icy, (a Haiku)

The Featured Image above, contains my words and some thoughts about the art of how I write poetry. A big thank you to “Coffee House Writers” for posting the article on their Instagram, and Facebook, sites … https://www.instagram.com/coffeehousewriters3/
https://www.facebook.com/coffeehousewriters3

Icy. (a Haiku)

A decade has gone
 
Since that icy day in May
  
Loneliness is cold 

Ivor Steven (c) April 2022

Pitch Black, War Limericks Are Not Fun. is up at Coffee House Writers Magazine

Hello dear readers and followers, as you may know, I now write for “Coffee House Writers” magazine on a fortnightly basis, and my poem “Pitch Black, War Limericks Are Not Fun”, is in this weeks edition of Coffee House Writers Magazine. … please click on the link below and visit my poem, at Coffee House Writers >> https://coffeehousewriters.com/pitch-black-war-limericks/



Pitch Black, War Limerks Are Not Fun



There was a rogue called Putin
Who liked ‘Guns & Roses’ and shootin’
He wouldn’t talk to the Poms
And didn’t like Ukrainian bombs
When he was in bed with Rasputin

Pitch black clouds rolled in from the north
Carrying war crimes back and forth
From a bloody torn Ukraine
When will the bombs stop raining​?
Pitch black cinders on our broken earth

Ivor Steven (c) March 2022

Red Lilies Under Broken Ground, is up at Coffee House Writers magazine

Hello dear readers and followers, as you may know, I now write for “Coffee House Writers” magazine on a fortnightly basis, and my poem “Red Lilies Under Broken Ground”, is in this weeks edition of Coffee House Writers Magazine. … please click on the link below and visit my poem, at Coffee House Writers >>
https://coffeehousewriters.com/red-lilies-under-broken-ground/


Red Lilies Under Broken Ground

Do the selfish greedy few
Watch the innocent die
And bleed upon the morning dew
Do they inhale the red dust
Above the crumbling homes of trust

Has their warring blackboard
Been desecrated by the blood-spattered horde
Sacrificed by their beheading swords

The white doves of peace are crying
While the red lilies of love
Lay under broken ground dying

Ivor Steven (c) March 2022

Do Snails Go To The Ballet? is up at Coffee House Writers Magazine this week …

Hello dear readers and followers, as you may know, I now write for “Coffee House Writers” magazine on a fortnightly basis, and my poem “Do Snails Go To The Ballet?”, is in this weeks edition of Coffee House Writers Magazine. … please click on the link below and visit my poem, at Coffee House Writers >>
https://coffeehousewriters.com/snails-go-to-ballet/


Do Snails Go To The Ballet?

Beyond our birthplace
Life is not a race
We all have our own pace
Within our own carapace

On my garden pathway
A snail was towing his chalet
I knelt there beside his showy beret
To watch his powerfully moving display
Of carrying his house everyday
I inquired about his homely sleigh
And asked, had they ever traveled to the ballet?

Ivor Steven (c) February 2022

Water-wrinkled Hands And Sand Between My Toes, is up at Coffee House Writers Magazine

Hello dear readers and followers, as you may know, I now write for “Coffee House Writers” magazine on a fortnightly basis, and my poem “Water-wrinkled Hands And Sand Between My Toes”, is in this weeks edition of Coffee House Writers Magazine. … please click on the link below and visit my poem, at Coffee House Writers >> https://coffeehousewriters.com/water-wrinkled-hands/


Water-wrinkled Hands And Sand Between My Toes (Revised)

The sand is not real gold
More like fine Indian silk
And the water is not that cold
Tepid like cool milk
Softly caressing my salty feet
And the ocean’s sheer blue waves
Carry surfers to shore
Then they paddle out for more

So many happy souls
Every face a smile
Mums, dads, children, grandparents too
And old blokes like me
All enjoying the sea
Sand-castles built with glee
Hungry seagulls hovering on the breeze
And prancing for a feed

The commune beach
A lesson to teach
No matter who you are
Some are here from afar
Pale, dark or sunburnt skin
Could be cream or tanned
Bodies short and tall
Rotund and thin
All frolicking as one
Under our southern summer sun

Ivor Steven (c) January 2022

“Crawling Out of a Dark Void”, is up at Coffee House Writers Magazine

Hello dear readers and followers, as you may know, I now write for “Coffee House Writers” magazine on a fortnightly basis, and my poem “Crawling Out of a Dark Void” is in this weeks edition of Coffee House Writers Magazine. … please click on the link below and visit my poem, at Coffee House Writers .
>> https://coffeehousewriters.com/crawling-out-of-dark-void/

Crawling Out of a Dark Void (Revised)

Falls and crawls, my void is screaming
Glares and stares, my eyes are slowly opening
Clangs and chimes of sirens roaring
Help and kindness of paramedics working

Awakening from a scary darkness
Knowing my dreams are disappearing

Ins and outs of doorways slamming
Shrieks and shrills of voices yelling
Highs and lows of painfully recovering
The difficulties of quietly surviving

Awakening to the renewal of dreaming
Beyond the curtains and screenings
Realizing my life is gradually healing

_____________________________________

Photo by Ivor Steven

Ivor Steven (c) January 2022

Sprinting

Today was my first day as ‘Host’ of the “Sprints” segment over on Coffee House Writers Magazine, which I shall be doing three evenings a week, and during the initial 20 minute sprint session, I wrote this appropriate piece …

Sprinting

Here I am, at my age!

Awkwardly sprinting

Writing quickly into a twenty minute page

Adrenaline pumping

Dribbling words into an empty rain gauge

Heartbeat racing

Thoughts are flying out of an unlocked cage

Calmly panicking

Between memories of love and hidden rage

Ivor Steven (c) January 2022