Category: Music

From here in Australia, I’ve been reading the stories about Mr Trump and his having contracted the ‘Covid’ virus this week, and his subsequent “miraculous/cure” recovery…. which seemed to remind me of this poem I wrote back in October 2017


Not Here nor There

My time is slowly passing.

Age is creeping, not lasting.

I’m frail and growing older.

My body shivers when it’s colder.

And sweats like hell, in the heat.

My mind is feeble and weak.

I don’t seem to remember.

Whether it’s March, April, or September.

Here I sit, what am I doing.

There I look, where am I going.

There I ask, what’s for tea dear.

Oh, I forgot, she’s not here.

Well best I retire to bed.

Wrest this weary head.

Under a linen sheet, like a white hood.

And lie here, on this piece of driftwood.

Ivor Steven (c) October 2017

This week’s Wednesday Challenge on Weekly Prompts is; STEAMED LENSES. Please go over and check out their fabulous site by clicking on this link >> https://weeklyprompts.com/2020/10/07/wednesday-challenge-steamed-lenses/ . The below poem is my response to the prompt…


Is There Love Behind Steamed-up Glasses Of Dread

Life is indeed a tangle web

Behind steamed-up glasses of dread

But finding an end to the masks loose threads

Eventually unbinds previous words misread



We are bruised and torn

We are the drowned unicorns

Hatred is trampling our weary souls

Love and healing should be our goals



Love is every season, and the ones in between

Love is every moonbeam, and the ones in between

Love is every sunrise, and the ones in between

Love is an afternoon sea-breeze, and the cool evenings in between

I know these visions to be a true call

Because I’ve looked into the wizard’s crystal-ball

Today I was up and going at sunrise

Preparing for an important check-up on my heart’s demise

Early in the morning an angel came and shaved my chest

Ready for the procedures arduous test

And I was wired-up and plugged in

Calmly listening to sounds of harps playing

Then I heard a tune by Leonard Cohen

And my mind was peacefully drifting



I’m smiling, I must have looked contented

My Doctor nodded in acknowledgement

Seeing my ‘muses’ T-shirt at the bedhead

Suddenly, faster and stepper I must tread

Until finally the machine slowed down

And I’m resting on the bed in my hospital gown

Waiting for my heartrate to normalise

Then the angel leans over and whispers, “you’ll see many more sunrises”

Ivor Steven (c) Sept 2020.

This new Fall fell

Leaving us no time to dwell

Nothing will ever be the same

Where’s the old Olympic flame?



The world’s bubble has burst

Pricked by a deflating curse

Then captured inside the owner’s empty purse

Are we spinning in reverse?



The snails have left their shells

Searching for a new citadel

Lugging the fading Olympic torch

Can the cauldron again light-up our front porch?

Ivor Steven (c) Sept 21020