Month: March 2019

The “Weekly Word Prompt, this week is: Passport

Dusty Passport

Here I was resting, home again from hospital

A mystery illness, had laid me up

I was rekindling thoughts of travelling to America

An adventure I’d always promised myself

Night is not always dark, you know

Firstly I had to find my passport

Yes, I’d hidden it somewhere safe

After turning the bedroom inside out

Then throwing the lounge-room upside down

The lost document was on a garage shelf

Looking dusty, but still only five years old

Jumping for joy, you’d think I’d found gold

Hardly ever been stamped, a Chinese one, that’s all

Many years to pass, until my last call

I clasped that passport firmly in my hand

And I said, “It’s time”, before my clock runs out of sand

Ivor Steven (c)  2019

The “Weekly Word Prompt, this week is: Passport

Dusty Passport

Here I was resting, home again from hospital

A mystery illness, had laid me up

I was rekindling thoughts of travelling to America

An adventure I’d always promised myself

Night is not always dark, you know

Firstly I had to find my passport

Yes, I’d hidden it somewhere safe

After turning the bedroom inside out

Then throwing the lounge-room upside down

The lost document was on a garage shelf

Looking dusty, but still only five years old

Jumping for joy, you’d think I’d found gold

Hardly ever been stamped, a Chinese one, that’s all

Many years to pass, until my last call

I clasped that passport firmly in my hand

And I said, “It’s time”, before my clock runs out of sand

Ivor Steven (c)  2019

I’d like to thank Gina, of Singledust, for reminding me of an old poem of mine. Her glorious poem, “dying dreams” inspired me to write an answer to my poem “A Crack In The Wall”.

Cracks Fading Into Dust 

Long ago, I lay bruised, on a pebble beach

The jagged rocks, had cut me deeply

I remained, bleeding and afraid

Beached, unable to row with my torn pieces

The cracks sharp edges, are now blunt

Ancient dark chasms, softened by time

And filled with yesteryear’s tears

Light ascends from the opaque holes

And glowing lustre, hovers over old fears

I see clear visions beyond the front door

And distant dreams, becoming realities

I’m done, hurdling fences and stone walls

The lifelong barriers are turning into dust

And her lost love, will be my last supper

Leonardo’s Bride – Lyrics. Even when I’m Sleeping

Ivor Steven (c)  2019

My sunny dawn cracked open the morning sky

I yawn and I stretch, my back goes crack

The noise of warning sirens cracks the air

Let’s get cracking and take Yorkie for a pedal

From this quiet suburb of Geelong

To visit the vast metropolis of Philadelphia

From these drying puddles of the Moorabool

To the flowing waters of the Delaware

I’ll pack sun-burnt soil from this dusty land

And exchange my sand, for smiles and greeting hands

Featured Photos: Taken by Ivor Steven, the pictures are of the Moorabool River, from the banks of the river, behind the Derwent Hotel, Batesford, Geelong.

At of my friend Kate of “calmKate”, afew more Moorabool River pictures.

Ivor Steven (c)  2019

Well here l am in hospital again. For today’s Weekly Word Prompt, the prompt word is : Fairness – please click to view the Weekly Word Prompt site. And as far as I am concerned, in all fairness, I could not have been treated any better than during my stay here in Geelong hospital.

I’m no stranger to this land

The old hourglass sand

Is drifting past my hand

I’m no stranger to this room

Time has me back here too soon

I’ve not yet been on my trip to the

moon

I’m no stranger to this road

Time has me carrying destiny’s load

I wait here for answers from the time-machine’s secret code

I’m no stranger to this front door

Time has me healing, for my home chores

Here they’re all kind, saying hello and, goodbye Ivor

Ivor Steven (c) 2019

Hi Dear readers, just to let you know, I’m in hospital tonight, I had a bad afternoon, and they advised me to come into hospital. My Cat Scans were good, but keeping me here 2- 3 days under observation. Fortunately I’ll be ok 😊🙄

Resting on my pillow in the backyard willow

Under last year’s girlfriend’s bed-throw

Midnight’s gone, and I cannot sleep

I keep wanting to have a peep

I’m dreaming a vortex of dreams

The boiling kettle’s bursting with steam

I’m throwing out the fungus and cream

Empty coathangers, and the old fur coat beams

Politicians verbal shit in flowing upstream

Truth and lies tear at their trouser seams

Cancerous rhymes attack my open veins

It’s a dark cloudy night outside, who’s there to see the rain

The awakening dawn has no talking moon

And the morning sunshine needs a spoon

Daylight saving has begun too soon

My running shoes have walked out of the bedroom

Ivor Steven (c) 2019