Here’s another repost from February 2020. While I’m busy writing some new submission poems for up-coming anthologies the in interested in entering… I’ve written a poem here, about a fallen branch from a big tree. The big branch coming down was of a slight inconvenience to the party goers, or were we selfishly thinking of ourselves, and not thinking of the “inconvenience” the damaged tree was feeling …….. again a timely reminder, of how “we think wrongly”, that we might be in charge of our planet earth !!
Here’s a poem I wrote in February 2020, and our world is still needing more “Love”
Another Nineteen Steps to the Top
On a mountain top
I am a rock
A timeless clock
A window into nature’s lock
Understanding the life of trees
I share the knowledge within me
Be sunrise, or sunset of my disdain
My emotions of standing here in the rain
Flood the burning trees of my pain
Life will always be, pain or love
Our journey’s are ordained from above
Pain tests the depth of my love
Strength within my soul, is carried by my dove
Eternal is the saga of, pain and love
We never really owned it
We forgot how to extol it
We could not wear it
We’re naked without it
We need to restart, and resubmit
Ivor Steven (c) Feb 2020
Upon The Highest Mountain. Lyrics, by ‘Lake of Tears’
I still dream of the mountains, where I used to be a king King of all the outer realms, how I wish to return…
“Welcome back, my son, I have waited for a long time Waited for the king to return, I have something to show you Upon the highest mountain, way up by the horizon Lies an ancient path, the path of the gods…”
I’ve climbed the mountains high And walked among the clouds I’ve reached the outer realms Seen past the fields of wild-grown flowers
“Seek the opening of sanguine painted clouds Carried gently upon caressing winds There by the boundaries of seldom broken lines Lies the way…”
These sanguine clouds I saw Appear the heaven’s shore Swept by the woken wind Stray in the garden of tranquillity
“See through the many eyes of the dragonfly Hear the flowers bloom in early spring And see the lines of life untouched by time Upon the way…”
All the stars are yours to hold in your hands All the stars are yours to share with those there
Faerie choirs sing And gently flap their wings And by this creek so small Gathered slowly, drinking unicorns
“Stray pilgrim, god to be Stray wanderer, all these realms belong to thee” “Stray pilgrim, god to be Stray wanderer, all these realms belong to thee” Small creatures coming near Then turn to disappear All while the faeries sing Ode to waters, ode to the winds
“Stray pilgrim, god to be Stray wanderer, all these realms belong to thee”
This Weekend on Weekly Prompts, it’s their first Colour Challenge of 2021 and appropriately they have chosen the colour: White. Please go over and visit their fabulous site by clicking >> Here. My poem is a “Re-Whitewash from 2 years ago..
A White Wall, Whiter Than White
I’m lying here in my white-walled bedroom
My body’s been feeling white-hot
The white ceiling fan is cooling me down
Laying under only white sheets
Covering my white skin
This is not the White House
I don’t lie that much
I’ve not white false hair
So my white halo stays on
Without looking like a silly clown
Outside, my great side wall is white
The back courtyard is safe and secure
No non-whites can’t get in or out
Unless they desperately needed to
The great backyard wall
May be easily scaled
With a sturdy white ladder
I’m trumped, here in Australia
Walls don’t even keep out the flies
I’ve been reading my history books
The white walls built in the past
They have never lasted
Over they climbed
Or under they crawled
The walls were eaten by dust mites
Resilient as a feather duster
And pulled down by liberators, in disdain and shame
Suddenly I’m awake, it’s only 1.30 am, what’s happened !! There’s car horns and cheering, like a New Year Eve’s party, why is there such a rowdy noise going on !! Yeah…. now I remember… happy 4th of July to all of my American family and friend’s… ENJOY……
The Other Side Of Red White And Blue
Poem by Ivor Steven, adapted to prose by Claudia Collins
It was the fourth of July. The party seems to be finished. I’m wondering how long I dozed off for. Most of my friends have gone; a few bodies left, lying on the floor. ‘Best I have a piss before I go. Now where’s that bathroom?’
‘Whoops, there’s a girl in here, dressed all in blue, and she’s on the floor, slouched in the corner, not moving. Her skin is a whiter shade of pale, red lip-stick all askew.’
Then I see myself in the mirror. My white shirt is moist and filthy; agape, splattered deep, dark red. ‘Oh no. It’s human blood!’ I turn the crumpled girl over. Her pretty blue dress, covered in blood too. ‘What’s happened? I can’t remember. Only blurry images of red, white, and blue.’ My mind goes numb, and my legs start running, out of there, in a hurry.
Thump! I trip over. I thought, ‘that bloke is asleep.’ I didn’t notice at first … his red shirt is also oozing out blood. ‘Holy hell, he’s dead too!’
I’m stumbling through the front door. Grappling, panicking, now where where do I flee? ‘Think! Yes, a nearby church has an early dawn service, a sanctuary for my burning fears.’
And bumbling into the church I go, settling upon the nearest pew. I’m white as a ghost and I turn to see who’s beside me. An eerily stunning red-haired girl, wearing a dress of red, white, and blue.
Memory flashes back, ‘It’s Her … from the party.’ She’s staring at me now, with vivid red and white eyes. I see fangs protruding over her blue lips. Dribbling fresh blood, she hisses at me and gurgles, “Did I miss one?”
The Filia Sanguine suddenly grabs my arm. And her dark-blue fingernails dig deep. I’m seized, I’m gone, I know. There’s no safe haven here.
G’day dear readers, well this is my 6th poem that has been published in Geelong Writers publications during the last week. My poem appears in the Chapbook “Sailing In The Wind”. The book is the result of an Ekphrastic Writing Workshop at Boom Gallery here in Geelong.
