Month: December 2020

My Addiction

Fact or fiction

Whatever the diction

Words without friction

That is my addiction



Emotions from the heart

My love potion of remarks

From sweaty nightmares of blue sharks

To walking on dreams in Central Park



Words surviving my writing cramps

Evolving beyond sirens and flashing blue lamps

From bygone dreams of empty homes

To climbing a mountain of slippery stones



Ivor Steven (c) December 2020.

The Quill and Self-will


Tired eyes slowly open

The room is blurrily sloping

My lips are numb and dry

And I cannot see the sky



Three weeks I’ve been here

While my body is in recovery

Nurses say I’ll soon be out of this wheelchair

And I’ll be home with community health care



How will I cope I despair

My arm is idle and I cannot weight bear

And my speech is impaired

With a memory drifting in mid-air

I am unable to read or write

And daytime may as well be midnight



Three months have passed by

I am doing a morning crossword and my smile begins to cry

But there is a knowing sparkle in my eye

Upon my notepad I’ve scrawled lines of rhyme awry



Ivor Steven (c) Nov 2020