Feature Image Above: A watercolour painting by Carole Steven.
Dust and Rain
Life eventually returns to dust
Think me morbid if you must
Funerals do that to me
Eulogies sting me like a bee
That gentle bite numbed my mind
To that sea of blurry faces, sincere and kind
My selfless tears did drown
In memories of pain
Of her being lowered down
On that day when I could not stop the rain
Ivor Steven (c) January 2022
Hello dear readers, I had a difficult time writing this poem, as my thoughts were jumband confused, but eventually after toiling away, I think the piece gradually developed into something resembling my initial dreamy thoughts … And then I could not make up my mind on the title, between “A Shining” or “One More Spoonful” ..
Featured Image Above: My photo of a piece of street-art in Geelong
One More Spoonful
I was reading my never ending story
about crossing the rivers of time
and climbing a mountain of dreams
then along the crest of a misty waterfall
a mysterious rainbow appeared at dawn
as a shimmering glimmer of hope
and above my unreachable horizon
there was a shining
tempting me to turn around
and resume paddling upstream
to where I could savour
a spoonful of life’s cream
Ivor Steven (c) January 2022
Hello dear readers and followers, as you may know, I now write for “Coffee House Writers” magazine on a fortnightly basis, and my poem “Crawling Out of a Dark Void” is in this week’s edition of Coffee House Writers Magazine. … please click on the link below to visit my poem, at Coffee House Writers .
>> https://coffeehousewriters.com/crawling-out-of-dark-void/
Ivor Steven (c) January 2022
Today I read these incredible words on Colleen Brown’s “The Chatter Blog” site.
“Tho’ my voice maybe tuneless
Don’t discount my song
My song sings emotion – pitch perfect” … Faherty Brown
Here is the link to Colleen’s article >
https://bikecolleenbrown.wordpress.com/2022/01/05/my-soul-sings/
And after reading her beautiful quote … a poem that I wrote back in May 2018, now appears to be more meaningful than what I originally thought my words were about.
Right or Wrong, It’s Your Song (Revised)
Who knows the words to your song
Who sings in tune to your song
Who is to say a song is right
Or a song is wrong
It is not their song
It is not my song
It is your song
Right or wrong
And we we all here for the same song
Let us all sing the song
Ivor Steven (c) January 2022
Dad’s Old Writing Desk
Typing words on my brother’s laptop
Sitting at my dad’s old writing desk
Here I am surrounded
By a magical sea of real friends
Who are smiling at my memories
Floating on moonlit walls
Glowing above the paintings
Created by my dream-time girl
Before she departed
This mystifying world
Ivor Steven (c) December 2021
Time rambles along
Memories become words
Rummaging resumes
Ivor Steven (c) December 2021
Today with this reblog, my hospitalisation story, in poems from three years ago continues …
Level Seven
I’m here on level seven
I might nearly see heaven
Suddenly the silent wall slaps me hard
With a soul shattering boom
My heart recites to me, her tune of doom
Comes crashing down on me
I’m crying remorseful tears
‘Twas her hospital for thirty years
We would always either be home or here
Backwards and forwards
Short visits, long stays
Inside out, upside down
Wounded hopes, broken dreams
Decades of her gracious courage, never undenied
Now I lay on her memories, here she died
Ivor Steven (c) 2018
This time three years ago, was the beginning of my three months is hospital, originally suffering from a “mystery” virus, and then I had a stroke, followed by another minor stroke. … Somehow I managed to write about that three month journey via my poems, and today I’m presenting the first poem I wrote from my hospital bed during that time …
I’m lying in bed, hallucinating
They’ve given me too many pain killers
Swimming between soaked sheets
In an ocean of hot sweat
I see a blue shark in my bed
Angrily circling me
That killers glint in his eyes
His giant jaws open wide
And he viciously bites me
Piercing my lower neck
And poking my left eye out
My blood is boiling on the red sea
If this is hell, please ring the bell
I shall pray to save my soul, and be set free
I’m swirling in drugs, I cannot think
My eyes are shut, I cannot blink
Where are you mum
I was always your number one
She’d make me my favourite cake
A passion-fruit sponge she’d bake
I sense a benevolent friend, if he’s not too late
Smuggling me a gun, past white guards, inside mum’s cake
To you who cannot see me, I’m an ancient fable
Who’s about to leave the table
With the rest of the disabled
I’ll look for you, in your higher stables
How can I find my way back?
I’ve lost my winding track
Life for me cannot be the same
I’m not recovering, I’m losing the game
Forgotten my name and where to aim
Destiny has me old and lame
Ivor Steven (c) November 2021
Five years ago
On that day
I cried
I cannot forget
The death of a ladies man
When he found his, sisters of mercy
On this day, hallelujah
I now, fondly remember
By the rivers dark
In the land of plenty
Our, Field Commander Cohen
Singing from above, in his, Tower of Song
Attached Videos Below are in order of appearence in “Italic song titles“ in my poem above.
On That Day
I Cannot Forget
Death of a Ladies Man
Sisters of Mercy
Hallelujah
By The Rivers Dark
In The Land Of Plenty
Field Commander Cohen
Tower Of Song
Ivor Steven (c) November “7th” 2021
Today’s poem, is a piece I originally wrote in June 2017, and the words were influenced by Leonard Cohen’s song, “Show Me The Place”, and this being the 5rd anniversary of his passing, I thought it an appropriated day to re-post my poem. I’ve revised the poem a couple of times, the original title was “Violin Strings”, but overall, the meaning of my words have stayed intact.. The Featured Image above, is scanned copy from, “The Wordless Songbook”, Leonard Cohen, by George A. Walker, book cover print, (A book, in my personal library)
Strings
I’m singing a song, about you
Singing words, both wistful and true
From my heart to my soul, the veins
They’re as tight as violin strings
I needed you, to take my hand
Take my hand and show me the way
Show me the way, to a formal debut
Show me the way, into your dancing shoes
I needed you, to take my dreams
Take my dreams and show me how to behave
Show me the way, to your family home
Show me how to drink, from your holy grail
I needed you, to take my open heart
Take my heart and show me how to pray
Show me the way, into your world
Show me how to fly, in your milky way
I needed you, to write some heavenly notes
Take my violin and show me how to play
Show me the way, to your harp’s wings
Show me the way, into your heartstrings
Ivor Steven (c) November “7th” 2021
Ivor.Plumber/Poet 