Here I am on a Jet Plane, somewhere over the Pacific Ocean. Therefore today’s Throwback Friday poem is a very appropriate finale piece, to coincide with my amazing adventures in Canada over the past 21 days.
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It Was Time To Leave (Revised)
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It’s time to tidy up my mess Clean up the room and get dressed It’s time to pack my suitcase Fill the travel bag and vacate this place It’s time to put on my famous rocker shoes And walk away from this dream come true It’s time to say heartfelt goodbyes To these wonderful Canadian guys It’s time for final hugs and kisses Sad farewells and best wishes It’s time for my usual emotional tears Separate myself from these every day cheers It’s time to flyaway from a land of berries and fairies Leave this magical world of faraway families It’s time to say a million thank you’s For making my stay a Really Real great do It’s time for me to travel back home With glorious memories of this magical Astrodome
With Saturday night’s Cohen Noir: Celebrating the Music, Words & Legacy of Leonard Cohen drawing near, I’ve been revisiting the quiet ache and devotion in his work. Today’s Throwback Friday poem, Strings, was first written in June 2017, shaped in part by Cohen’s song Show Me the Place. With this year marking a decade since his passing, it feels fitting to return to the piece. I’ve revised it a few times over the years — the original title was Violin Strings — but the heart of the poem has remained true. The featured image above is a scanned print from The Wordless Songbook, Leonard Cohen, by George A. Walker, a treasured book from my personal library.
Below are two recent fantail moments from our morning walkies — small, bright pauses that seemed to echo the gentle mood of today’s Throwback Friday.
Strings
I’m singing a song about you, Singing words, both wistful and true. From my heart to my soul, the veins — They’re as tight as violin strings. I needed you to take my hand, Take my hand and show me the way. Show me the way, to a formal debut, Show me the way, into your dancing shoes.
I needed you to take my dreams, Take my dreams and show me how to behave. Show me the way, to your family home, Show me how to drink from your holy grail. I needed you to take my open heart, Take my heart and show me how to pray. Show me the way into your world, Show me how to fly, in your Milky Way.
I needed you to write some heavenly notes, Take my violin and show me how to play. Show me the way to your harp’s wings, Show me the way into your heartstrings.
As I revisit this piece in the lead‑up to Saturday night’s Cohen Noir: Celebrating the Music, Words & Legacy of Leonard Cohen, I’m reminded again of how deeply his work threads through my own. For anyone who wants to hear the quiet ache that first inspired Strings, here’s Leonard Cohen’s Show Me the Place — a song that still opens the same door.
Feature Image : Created by Copilot and me — a wattlebird rising above a soft, cloud‑washed bridge in the sky. I sent my two photos (attached below) to my Copilot app and asked for an image of a wattlebird flying above a bridge in the sky. This is the result: a golden, dreamlike lift.
Oh, to safely fly above that peaceful bridge in the sky. Like a worldwide dream — a bowtie’s golden ribbon, bandaging the stratosphere together, from here to Shanghai.
A quiet, drifting companion for the poem’s soft ascent.
A peaceful sunset can feel like the world exhaling — yet sometimes, in that fading light, a different truth appears. This morning’s sky carried both beauty and unease, and my thoughts followed the sun toward the shadowed side of our turning planet.
The Dark Side of Sunset
I was absentmindedly marching, away from worldly soul-searching, when I saw the sun arching toward the dark side of our planet.
Then I wondered who’s there on the other side of this old orb of granite.
And who decides who lives and who dies during the bleak, black night, when the bombs batter what’s left of the moonlight.
A final reflection on the sun’s descent — and the stark questions it leaves burning in the dark.
A gentle twilight settled over yesterday’s sky, its fading colours echoing the soft hush of evening. This poem grew from that quiet moment — a lingering farewell woven through the last light of day.
Echoes Of Goodbye
Daylight is on the soft edge of night. Today’s sentinel sun has wistfully said goodbye to the world’s indigenous blue sky.
Twilight time melodramatically commandeers earth’s chromatic horizon.
I stand here, amazed and wondering how do I explain these encircling, empyreal surroundings to the echoes of our final goodbye.
A final whisper of twilight, carried forward in song.
The day began with a rosy glow, the kind of gentle morning that seems to lean forward and welcome you in. Chrome‑tinted clouds drifted apart, the wattlebirds stirred their songs, and a brightening sky offered a quiet rainbow as a good‑luck sign. With nature setting such a hopeful tone, it felt only fitting that the Market followed suit — a day of kind faces, steady conversations, and a humble sense of things going right.
A Blue Sky Rainbow
Early Saturday morning and we are out walking before heading off to the Market
Dawn’s chrome clouds are clearing the wakening wattlebirds are warbling and serendipitously there’s a rainbow in the sky blithely waving hello and goodbye
Nature’s welcoming signs are favourable and on this cozy, rosy day, hopefully, Ivor’s Poetry Book display will become humbly profitable
As the sky brightened, the music rose with it, and even the morning’s rainbow seemed to hum along.
Hello, dear readers and followers. I contribute to Coffee House Writers Magazine (USA) every second week, and I’m delighted to share that my latest poem,“Odd Extremes,” appears in the new issue. You can read it by following the link below. >> Odd Extremes – Coffee House Writers
Beneath this softened hilltop haze, the sun’s stolen streams slip through the sky’s seams — a quiet prelude to Odd Extremes.
And as these stolen sun‑streams slip through the sky’s seams, this song rises like the world remembering its own extremes.
The beams that climbed through last night’s clouds left their mark — a quiet moment held in a soft, rising glow that lingered long enough to shape today’s bohemian rhyme.
Over at Weekly Prompts, the weekend Challenge word is Moment/s. To visit their fabulous site please click >> Here.
My Sign Is On The Climb
Life’s arduous and continuous incline has me staggering beyond my prime. Here, balancing between the sublime and the interior of twilight time, where the pearlised skyline’s radiant beams are on the climb.
Perhaps I missed tonight’s assuring sign while writing this bohemian rhyme, and I didn’t see the clouds talking in mime while being bedazzled by nature’s pantomime.
And as the sky’s glow drifts upward, today’s rhyme now meets this unforgettable anthem.
“Loose Gold Nooses” — a collage creation by Ivor, blending a silhouetted bird in flight with a golden sunrise, echoing the haiku’s quiet tension and beauty.
Loose Gold Nooses (a Senryu)
There are excuses For being tied in nooses Of thin gold feathers
Let the final song unwind the day’s knots, where the gold loosens, the nooses fall away, and the night opens its hands.
A year ago, during a visit with my Canadian cousins, I left Vancouver Island for Edmonton and met my Alberta cousin in the small town of Wainwright. Soon after, we set off on a three‑day road trip back to the island, travelling through Jasper and the towering Rocky Mountains — a journey carved into memory.
A Picnic in the Rocky’s
Leaving Salmon Arm
On the outskirts of Vancouver, heading towards the Ferry
The ferry from Vancouver to Sidney (Vancouver Island)
From the Mountains to the Sea
I am gradually drifting down, From out of the mountains’ smoky shroud, Toward the seaside playground, To rejoin a welcoming crowd.
Where, around the magical island, There will be more stories unfold, As time quickly filters through my hand; But these precious moments will be all molded Into poetic lines, written in charcoal and gold.
My Canadian cousins pointed me toward this Great Big Sea classic — a spirited companion for any journey drifting from mountains to shoreline.
It’s Market Day this Saturday from 10 a.m. to 3 p.m. * Our popular monthly markets are all undercover at Centrepoint Arcade on the third Saturday of every month. * They feature art, unique goods from local makers, second-hand goods, plants, books, and more. * There are also open art studios, Yesterday Vintage, Untether Gallery, and the May’d Shop.
All at, Centrepoint Arcade 132 Little Malop St, Geelong From 10 am to 3 pm
And I’ll be there with ‘Frankie’ and my “New Bookstall Set-up“
Let the quiet magic of Sigur Rós guide you toward a Saturday filled with makers, music, and friendly faces.
