Author: ivor20

My Old Lane To Nowhere

The roadworks have gone on for half a year

At seven in the morning, noisy trucks crunching into gear

My old muddy track

A dirt lane, no longer winding back

The boggy clay  is being dug out and renewed

Soon to be a bitumen and concrete view

I’ll be walking on a sealed road

No more murky puddles, nor frogs and toads

Gone the stench of rotting soil

Mixed in with leftover sump oil

My house floor to stay cleaner

And a nature strip groomed and greener

At last, my driveway entrance dry and solid

No more fishing in the muck for my dropped wallet

Ivor Steven (c)  June 2019

I attended another recital/open mic, evening tonight. Despite venturing out into the cold, I enjoyed the friendly evening. A great chance to meet up with fellow poets and hear their outstanding works. Also a time to sip on a few beers and soak up the pleasant surroundings, and atmosphere, of the ‘Valhalla Brewing & Taproom’  bar, during the poetry reading sessions. I was fortunate enough to be allowed to read three of my poems. Below are the three pieces that I read out tonight.

Dreams Of The Heart

I cannot walk the continents

Like the intrepid Marco Polo

But my feet have felt the sands of time

Pass between my toes

I have not sailed the high seas

Like the courageous Christopher Columbus

But my body has bathed

In an ocean full of kind hearts

I’m yet to fly in space

Like the brave Neil Armstrong

But I have reached for the stars

And touched my soul’s dreams

Its Time

We’ll miss you,

Mother Earth.

Your splendour,

And imposing style.

From forest canopy’s,

To the desert Nile.

New creations,

Beauty, gone.

We’ll lose you,

Father Time.

Your rhythm,

And stoic guile.

From ancient history,

To the future files.

New millennia,

Awaiting, gone

Haiku: We Lost The Sea 

Bridges of dreams crossed

The ocean and river spanned

Waters of love found

Ivor Steven (c)  June  2019

The old moon knows

After a bitterly cold winter

There’s never a false spring

The devil’s apple tree always blossoms

The new moon now asks us

About the planet’s every faded sign

Ghosts in the soils dried up cracks

Moon shadows cover sacred grounds

However, above a dying old moon

Or below the new moon’s veins

Eve’s love moon, remains alluring

Her moonbeams spoon our imagination

Shimmering upon that blue lagoon

Playing the jubilee tune in every lovers bedroom

Love eventually conquers us all

When moon blossom ringlets fall

Ivor Steven (c)  June 2019

He has no shame 

He has no name 

Life for him is a game 

Life for him is someone else’s blame 

He will not be remembered 

He will not be a heavenly member 

He’s full of money and greed 

He’s full of himself, that’s the arrogance of his breed

His narcissistic attitude is growing worse

His growing pool of lies , will eventually stagnate and burst  

Ivor Steven (c)  June 2019

The Weekend Photo Challenge, on Weekly Prompts is, Rear  << Click …. Above is my photo of the rear of my unit, in this morning’s fog. And below today’s poem, “The Rear Of Night”

My foggy morning, an inky dye

The heavy mist, has kidnapped my sky

Sabotaging my light, the sun disappeared in front of my eyes

The rear of night, has been left with no flight

There’s no start, nor end to my blurred sight

Breathing in moist air, I gasp, were’s the moon ?

Has my gloomy forecast, unravelled too soon

Is this sunless day, the beginning of doom ?

Ivor Steven (c)  June 2019

Hello dear readers, I suppose it wouldn’t be a two year WP celebration for Ivor !! without a re-post of my old classic poem, “Where’s That Dream”. I wrote this poem seven years ago, and I’ll try a new song, a different picture …… and a new dream…….

Where’s That Dream

I’ve seen the universe, through to the stars beyond.

There’s a deep darkness, she’s gone, she’s gone.

I saw her smile, crack from the pain.

There was a sorrow, she caught it tomorrow.

I’ve seen the moon, through the burning sun.

Where’s that planet, she’s walking on.

I saw her eyes, crying tears of sand.

Where’s that beach, she’s lying on.

I’ve seen the ocean, through the broken coral.

Where’s that ship, she’s sailing on

I saw her body, serene and frail.

Where the ashes, she’s covered in.

I’ve seen the earth open up, swallowing the multitude whole.

Where’s that chasm, she’s falling through.

I saw her gentle soul, disappear out of sight.

Where’s that secret heaven, she’s flying to.

I’ve seen the land, go through violent storms.

Where’s the winds of time, she’s spread upon.

I saw her heart, her love, for all of you, and I.

Where’s that dream, she’s left us to find.

Ivor Steven (c)  June 2019

Here is the music I was playing/listening to, while writing the poem this morning. The poem was written from a collection of notes scribbled down, depicting my dream during the night. Also, there’s another video attached below my poem

The Harmony Of This Man

I’ve spent the last two days

Printing and sorting photos from my trip

A journey, to the edge of faraway dreams

Placing today’s images, from my heart

Into this collectors photo album

I experienced tremors of joy

And I cried rivers of happy emotions

My hands will never be empty again

They shall forever carry these memories

From the enchanting land of distant families

I’ll now hold their trust in my palms

Knowing the true values of their clan

Early morning, I’m already playing my music

Listening to rhythmical sounds, herald the dawn

In time with the beat of my pulsating adrenaline

My erratic pencil scribbles notes

I have to write hurriedly

To capture this moments magical tone

That euphoria of my mind’s ecstasy

Moving feelings, of this life’s eventual peace

My visions achieved, now living within me

I’ve taken years to learn the harmony of this man

Ivor Steven (c)  June 2019

Again, thank you to “Go Dog Go Cafe” for the opportunity to post my poem, on their fabulous initiative, Promote Yourself Mondays, and especially to Gina, of ‘Singledust’, for her ongoing support of my writings…. click >> Here

Time To Give A Hand

Do you know this man

Small in stature, with a wavering hand

It takes a lot to know this man

In the cold, I’ve been running on wet sand

Rushing to forward money to the local charity stand

Coin I’d gathered from distant poetry lands

And the booklets that flew, over oceans and Central Park bands

Collected from generous readers, who donated to our M.S. brand

Heavy rain’s soaking me, and it’s bleak

I’m feeling unsteady on my freezing feet

There’s a nearby cafe to shelter out of the sleet

A warm and cosy eatery on Pakington street

Rewarding myself to a lunchtime treat

In the Red Radish Cafe, I have soup, Celery and silver-beet

Tiffany greets me, takes my coat, offers me a seat

Then I recite to her, ‘Dreams Of The Heart’, my day is replete

Ivor Steven (c)  June 2019