Category: Music

Another older poem from last year, and quaintly appropriate for this historical gold-mining town of Ballarat

My Kite And Bike 

Here I am in this ancient town

Climbing the local mystical Blue Mountains

Standing in the world’s greenest paddock

Flying my yellow and purple kite

On that old magical golden thread

My kite is soaring higher and higher

Towards our planet’s crimson sky

A sky covered by the clouds rainbow hues

Creamy clouds, opaque, thick and soft

Powerful and solid grey, hovering aloft

Where pristine snowflakes abound

All bright and shiny white

Heavy enough to ride my silver bike on

Peddle my way through today’s slippery black-ice

And wallow in the colourful heights of tomorrow

Ivor Steven (c)  2019

I’m feeling a bit older this morning after last night’s party!! , so here’s an older poem I’m reposting…

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 my dear.

Oh, I forgot, she’s not here.

Well best I retire to bed.

And wrest this weary head.

Under a linen sheet, like a hood.

Laying here, on this piece of wood.

Ivor Steven (c) October 2019

Dawn’s morning blue

Drowns me in droplets of dew

I slip into yesterday’s torn shoes

Damp, from last night’s dream of you

I’m late, not yet waking up

Drinking cold tea, from my “United by Blue” cup

Quickly, only time enough to catch the bus

But I stop! What’s all the fuss

They’ll always be the next one

And today, don’t forget to put a cap on

I’ll get there, twenty minutes later

Relaxed, not rushed and feeling betterer

Ivor Steven (c)  October 2019

I know a Blackman’s beer taste’s great

And I’m also having a delicious cake

Not sure about their togetherness

Like a bride with no wedding dress

On a palm beach without sand

A sweet passion-fruit tart and a dry lager

Do they go together

First I’ll have a slurp of cold beer

Followed by a bite of that velvet pastry

I’m feeling like a blue shark with no teeth

The lager’s a subtle malt

With a hint of lemony hop

The scrumptious tart’s creamy and soft

With a crispy shortbread crust

Yeah, the day’s mixture of flavours is a blast

Ivor Steven (c)  October 2019

Life is full of disappointments

Of our physical and mental laments

There’s the disgruntled type

When we are stood down

Years of loyalty all for nought

Leaving you downcast and distraught

There’s the disheartened letdown

When we are stood-up again

Yesterday’s promise, today’s voiceless ghost

Leaving you an empty chair, and sadly aghast

There’s the frustrated fiasco

When we are stood upon

Months of being a washout, and a physical mess

Leaving your body punished, and almost useless

Dismayed and in disarray

When we are misunderstood

Decades of disenchantment, but undefeated we stay

Knowing we all experience disappointments on life’s causeway

Ivor Steven (c) September 2019

Sunday Lunchtime

A sunny Sunday lunchtime

I’m home alone, nothing to do

I decide on a Pakington Street outing

At the quaint Box Office Cafe

I’m by myself

They will be people I know

And perhaps I’ll meet someone new

There’s Beth I see, a regular, and with her puppy too

The Cafe has a dog friendly view

I sit with Beth and little Edith

We order coffee’s, and study the menu

Then two young ladies sit at the adjacent table

I introduce myself, to Amber and Jo

They are interested in what I’m writing

Jokingly, I say, “I’m writing a poem about you”

Then I explain, that the topics, ‘A Memorable Meal’

Smiling, I say, “here we all are, choosing our meals”

We finish our order, and happily chat away

Enjoying our Sunday lunchtime together

And cheeky puppy Edith, gets her pats and scraps too

Ivor Steven (c) September 2019