Author: ivor20

Have A Coffee And Cake With Me

Here At the Box-Office Cafe

Comfortable, warm, within quaint, rustic decor

Having my lunch break, away from work

Me and my travelling back-pack

Royal blue. light and true

I wear her like a second skin

Touring everywhere with me

From Geelong’s Bell Post Hill

To Philadelphia’s Bensalem

Carrying my notebooks and pens

And those Tullawalla booklets

The words are always in my bag

They’re for anyone to peruse, at a local cafe

Could be anyone, that I might sit next too

A friendly chat, an introduction, a hello

If they’re interested in what I do

I hand them my poetry website card

This is what I write, thank you

They smile, and say “I’ll read your words”

Ivor Steven (c)  August 2019

I’ve had this quilt for three years now, a birthday present from my girlfriend at that time. The quilt covers me every night, and I wonder and I dream, of the past, and the future. The past clings to me, like a warm blanket, and the future awakens every morning, when I toss the sheets back over the quilt.

A Quilt, For A Good Man. 

A quilt, crafted by hand.

Definitely for a man.

Bold and beautiful.

Maybe, I was a fool.

A quilt, for lonely nights. 

Made to keep me warm, under a cool moonlight.

Patterns of music notes and instruments.

Although, not Cohen’s Hallelujah, fourth or fifth movement.

A quilt, reminding me constantly.

However, not unpleasantly.

Like winter leaves, grey and black.

And again, there’s no turning back.

Ivor Steven (c)  July 2019

Midnight Creek

The old plumber is back on the street

My bodies aching and I’m beat

Bloodied fingers and sore feet

Thoughts are drifting up midnight’s creek

I’ve crudely been reminded, how hard this job is to do

Cracked hands were turning black and blue

Bending and twisting, I willed myself through

Working the dusty tools, I was thinking of you

Pondering, I know I’ve given it my best

Here on my quiet riverbed, I rest

My joints will recover, in time for my next test

Tentatively, I’m flying out of this restoration nest

Ivor Steven (c)  July 2019

Liquid joy is glazing my eyes

I’m reading newly received, birthday cards

They arrived today, from America

Messages of love, from distant families

Hand written words, etching visions into my soul

A envelope full of really real, colourful stars

And children’s love letters

For the kindhearted dragon and his faeries

Including my cousins, touching heartfelt poem

Followed by my gift, a writers notebook, for those special dreams

Ivor Steven (c)  July 2019

The music of Abbey Road is playing

Here I sit in Union Street listening

And there is something in the air

Sounds of words with honest flare

The Open Mic, poetry night

Again, at the Valhalla Bar site

The attendance, was a small downer

A cold winter storm, dampened evening goers

But the enthusiastic gathering

Enjoyed the writers readings

A mixture of poems and vocal songs

The entertainment flowed along

And I had time to read four poems

A range of my many emotions

https://ivors20.wordpress.com/2018/07/19/my-dragon-the-trilogy-3/

https://ivors20.wordpress.com/2019/06/28/black-snow-thaws-in-the-winter-sun/

https://ivors20.wordpress.com/2019/07/20/back-to-her-man/

https://ivors20.wordpress.com/2019/04/16/haiku-our-river/

Ivor Steven (c)  July 2019

Above, the Featured Image, is a photo of our impressive Geelong Library, I was there this morning receiving my monthly nourishment of shared poetry readings, a gathering of fellow Geelong Writers poet members, and a meeting that truly enhances my love of poetry….

Nourishment

I’ve been slowly recovering

And calmly re-discovering

Joyful nourishment for my soul

And now, I do care about myself

Enough, that I’ll have to build more room

To accommodate my regenerating life

The actual skill

Is having the will

From a little seed sown

Big things are grown

All creations are a masterpiece

Rejuvenating our ancient existence

Ivor Steven (c) July 2019

Above: Moorabool Valley Cafe, homestead out front of the cafe, the shed that can be seen from the cafe verandah (main featured image), horse agistment paddocks surrounding the cafe.

A Walk, A Coffee, And Alone

Little Cyndi has gone home

Here I am, again alone

The house is strangely quiet

I feel coffee and cake is on the diet

Late afternoon, and I’ll go for a walk

To my favourite cafe, where the magpies squawk

A stroll in the winter sun

And remember, I am not the only one

Reflect on life’s good times

And rekindle, my memories and rhymes

Above: The walking path close to my house, and the sunset as I was approaching home.

Above: Cyndi, yes it’s going home time……

Ivor Steven (c) July 2019