Author: ivor20

Have you ever looked up at a Midday Sun,

Shining through the weeping forest canopies.

A golden glowing furnace, that’s larger than life.

Glaring down, from there above.

Have you ever flown up to touch the Midday Sun,

Travelling through that deep blue sky and beyond.

A vortex of colour, like a rainbow’s many hues.

Cascading down, from there above.

Have you ever been blinded by the Midday Sun.

By that purity of brilliant white.

Forcing your burning eyelids to shut tight.

The Corona’s fiery circles intensely bright.

Like an Angels alluring halo of slivering light.

Enchanting to your mesmerized sight.

Encapsulating a lover’s first flight.

And scorching your heart’s delights.

Ivor Steven.

Thank you to all of my reader friends, for your wonderful support and well wishes, and today, “Friday The 13th”, I’m finally feeling betterer, and back to my sort of normal !! And so I’m posting this beautiful song, by another one of my of my favourite singer/songwriters, David Francey, click here.  Wonder  …..

Write to me, please

All I can do is quietly listen,

Listen, to your sweet voice,

Soothing my throbbing soul.

Write to my swollen eyes.

My life is becoming blurry,

And my reading’s in over-freeze.

Like the Bibles first Eve.

Write to my fallen voice.

Your’s always sounds like an angel.

Gently baptizing my ears,

And caressing my absent mind.

Write to my broken heart.

Mine’s still here to share,

Always so true and soft.

Like a morning’s virgin kiss.

Please write to me.

And set me free.

Ivor Steven.

Antony And The Johnsons, have long been a favourite of mine, and this song and lyrics, “Daylight And The Sun”, I think is an exceptional example of Antony Hegarty’s talents. And I suppose expresses my optimism about reaching tomorrow and discovering the rest of my journey over the rest of my time.   https://youtu.be/t4kFpc3G7NM

What’s it like to be an orange Pumpkin-head.

Only black sockets for eyes instead.

And a cut-out smile full of seeds.

Queer ears made of rings and beads.

Inside, your brain is scooped out for pigs feed.

Leaving a dark void that doesn’t bleed.

On top you’re like a crinkled dome.

And your sore neck’s being speared home.

What’s it like to have a retina thread,

As a throbbing nerve-end tread.

With your cell fibres smashed to a pulp.

Knifing across your tender scalp.

Ebbing towards your aching neck.

And crushing you like a busted shipwreck.

Then a wooden spike pierces your fragile brain.

Where the horrid harpoon spreads your pain.

Photo Source: Amazing Halloween Jack O’Lantern pumpkins, carved by Ray Villafane -pinterest.com

Ivor Steven.

There’s a sharp pain

Inside my brain.

Harpooning my eye,

More than Ouch, I cry.

So hard to write,

Blurry is my sight.

All I do is peep,

And I must rest and sleep.

I’ve not lost the knack,

And I shall be back……….

Ivor Steven.

I’m at this basement bar, and the so-called music’s as loud as thunder.

So loud, I can’t even hear, speak, or begin to wonder.

My inner and outer ear-drums are echoing with the continual pounding.

All around the incessant rapp music’s booming and thumping.

The annoying repetitive sounds, drumming away inside my head.

However, somehow my beating heart is remembering my girl instead.

And my attempted idle chats, are overwhelmed by the piercing howling.

But who’s listening anyhow, to my drunken words and lecturing.

It’s probably the extra ales tonight, and I’m slowly drowning away.

Leaning against the bar, elbows entrenched, as if I’m here to stay.

Suddenly my bar-stools vibrating, is it the noise, or am I bodily shaking.

From my old and new nerve-ends being frightfully awakened.

My soulful tears, with all their leftover fears, again quietly trickling.

But there’s no-one to actually notice, within this buzzing cocoon, so resounding.

Ivor Steven.