After months of anxieties and tears
Today was softened, on a smooth lake of old fears
The specialist report was stable
Grey clouds settled under his table
Obvious scars inside the head
Were idle seeds in the garden shed
Life is allowed to continue, cautiously
Back to a normal daily odyssey
Writing about cosmology and ideology
As battology turns a page on neurology
Ivor Steven (c) October 2019
G’day dear readers, today I’m reblogging this article, my introduction as a new Barista/writer for the Go Dog Go Cafe team. I’m honoured and thrilled to have been appointed as member to this wonderful group of writers, at Go Dog Go Cafe. You are all welcome to go and visit their fabulous website for writers…
The Baristas were thrilled at the diverse and talented group who submitted applications to be a new Barista at the Go Dog Go Cafe. We will be introducing them to you one at a time so you can get to know them and their writing better. This week we introduce you to Ivor.
Read more of his writing at Ivor.Plumber/Poet
Another older poem from last year, and quaintly appropriate for this historical gold-mining town of Ballarat
My Kite And Bike
Here I am in this ancient town
Climbing the local mystical Blue Mountains
Standing in the world’s greenest paddock
Flying my yellow and purple kite
On that old magical golden thread
My kite is soaring higher and higher
Towards our planet’s crimson sky
A sky covered by the clouds rainbow hues
Creamy clouds, opaque, thick and soft
Powerful and solid grey, hovering aloft
Where pristine snowflakes abound
All bright and shiny white
Heavy enough to ride my silver bike on
Peddle my way through today’s slippery black-ice
And wallow in the colourful heights of tomorrow
Ivor Steven (c) 2019
I’m feeling a bit older this morning after last night’s party!! , so here’s an older poem I’m reposting…
Not Here Nor There
My time is slowly passing.
Age is creeping, not lasting.
I’m frail and growing older.
My body shivers when it’s colder.
And sweats like hell, in the heat.
My mind is feeble and weak.
I don’t seem to remember.
Whether it’s March, April, or September.
Here I sit, what am I doing.
There I look, where am I going.
There I ask, what’s for tea my dear.
Oh, I forgot, she’s not here.
Well best I retire to bed.
And wrest this weary head.
Under a linen sheet, like a hood.
Laying here, on this piece of wood.
Ivor Steven (c) October 2019
Having a lazy day in Ballarat, but managed to have a picnic lunch and a walk around a bit of Lake Wendouree, the famous picturesque attraction in centre of Ballarat..
My younger sister Myfanwy, below
Cheers
Ivor Steven
Hello dear readers, no poems or fancy words tonight, just some photos from brother’s birthday party, Lawrie’s wearing the red shirt..
The birthday dinner party was superb
Cheers
Ivor
Featured Image Above: The Box Office Cafe, kitchen, which is made from an old shipping container.
Spoil Me, (With Apologies To David Redpath)
Sorry David, but here I am again
At West Geelong’s, Box Office Cafe
Spoiling myself, for Saturday lunch
Geelong’s own version, of ‘Go Dog Go Cafe’
Where owners and their furry pals all meet
Chatting and barking, one social togetherness
And yes, I get to give the doggies, pats and hugs
There’s Bronson, the well behaved little Pug
Duke, a very young Dalmatian, he’s going to be a big boy
And another Duke, a striking auburn Labrador
Sorry David, I’m going to describe my feast now
Firstly, a real Aussie cappuccino coffee
Followed by Bao Buns, with slow cooked pork
A sweet and sour glaze, and fresh herbs
With cucumber, pickled carrot, fried shallots
Complimented by a delicate Gochujang mayonnaise
Then of course, I had to have a delicious cake
David, I couldn’t resist, a Berry Velvet teacake
Leaving me no option, but to wash it all down
With one of those politically incorrect, Blackman’s lagers
Cheers everyone, I’ll be on holiday, in Ballarat this week
Ivor Steven (c) October 2019
On The Wins Of A Dove
How do I write to you
With these tears blurring my sight
Five months since my heart left your home
Your hot summer has been and gone
Oh, to be beside you
To hold your warm hand
You may hear my chest beating
Echoing, from over there
The rumbling is not a broken ache
More that of a loving heavy throb
A longing, pumping thump
Oh, to be beside you again
To see your adoring smile
I miss our knowing talks
Me, reciting to you
With that sparkle in your eyes
Oh. to be beside you still
So, I send you this letter
On the wings of a dove
I miss our united love
Ivor Steven (c) October 2019
Haiku:
As The Crow Fly’s
From grey tree branches
In sunlit sky, black crow sings
To all passing bye
Today I’m presenting two interesting music/videos, the first one is “Blackbirds”, by Gretchen Peters, a big thank you to Debbie, for the introduction to her, via her wonderful poem and article today >>https://gloriasmud.com/2019/10/04/its-only-a-song/
And the second, music/video, is from the “Black Whistle Singers” in Crow Agency Montana, singing a traditional American Indian song.
Ivor Steven (c) October 2019
Dawn’s morning blue
Drowns me in droplets of dew
I slip into yesterday’s torn shoes
Damp, from last night’s dream of you
I’m late, not yet waking up
Drinking cold tea, from my “United by Blue” cup
Quickly, only time enough to catch the bus
But I stop! What’s all the fuss
They’ll always be the next one
And today, don’t forget to put a cap on
I’ll get there, twenty minutes later
Relaxed, not rushed and feeling betterer
Ivor Steven (c) October 2019
Ivor.Plumber/Poet 