I’m flying above the clouds silver lining

Layers of soft grey velvet

Travelling beyond the sky’s golden horizon

Searching for my heavenly star

Bright as the golden sun

To warm my soul with that blanket of love

Sewn together by golden threads

Crafted by her sacred hands

Resilient as violin strings

Playing a tune, on an angel’s golden harp

Praising the sound of faeries wings singing hallelujah

Resonating a melancholy song upon the gold dust in my blood

Restoring my sleeping heart of pure gold, to restart

Remembering the last chapter, of my golden love story

Yesterday I was introduced to an interesting form of poetry, by Irma of ‘I Do Run’….. from her friend Jason,  “Jason also introduced me to the Hay(Na)Ku poetry from. It is similar in brevity to the Haiku with three lines but the word (not syllable) count is 1-2-3. The Hay(Na)Ku was created by a Filipina poet named Eileen Tabios in 2003   ”  . So here is my first go at ‘Hay(Na)Ku’… below…..

Pure:

Love

True gold

Life’s cycle

And the same song by Amanda Palmer, this time with the lyrics, however I still become teary with both of these versions, the video above is a glorious visual experience, and below, reading along with the lyrics is also a moving experience……I enjoy both…..

Ivor Steven (c) August 2019

How many Waterloo’s  do we have to see

Before all the battles are lost at sea

How many children, have to cry and flee

Before humanity is able to grow Adam’s next tree

Ivor Steven  (c)  August 2019

Friday Fun – unusual.

For the prompt site by CalmKate, please click >> Here

Unusually Cold

Dawn sounds like a howling wolf

Thudding noises hit the roof

Icy fat rain drops

Heavy sleet doesn’t stop

Pouring, overflowing buckets and frozen cups

Shovelling hail from my front steps

The coldest winter is here to stay

Polar blizzards everyday

Freezing puddles abound

Feet splash on the cold, cold ground

A week of remaining inside

This time, the weatherman hadn’t lied

Ivor Steven (c) August 2019

I’ve blue glue hands

My palms lack oiling glands

Finger-tips cracked and dry

Too many days, under cold sky

Working too hard

Forgetting my courtyard

I’ve writer’s cramp

At my desk under neon lamp

Finger-tips cracked and dry

Too many hours, pass after shut-eye

Writing ’til midnight

Editing never goes right

I’m not over straining

Recovery plans, are still in training

Finger-tips cracked and dry

Too many dreams, learning how to fly

Reading poetry all night

Regaining my old mind and insight

Ivor Steven (c)  August 2019

I’ve come a long, long way

I remember the bad, bad days

When yesterday’s were dark and grey

On level seven, under heaven’s archway

Laying there immobile and prone

Waiting for the etching of my headstone

Unable to call an angel on my phone

Unknowingly, my silent message, spun out of the cyclone

I awoke inside a comfortable twilight zone

Slowly realising I’d been saved, and finality was postponed

Ivor Steven (c)  August 2019

Hello dear readers and followers, again I must apologise for not being on WordPress and blogging with my normal zest….  I’ve been busy working (ouchie), socialising (yeah), and arduously  preparing and typing up my Eleventh Tullawalla Poetry Booklet….. Wow what a task I set myself, this booklet contains fifty of my poems, and I found the extra ten  poems to be a far bigger booklet than I thought it would be……. Anyhow the booklet is finally completed, and as always, they are available for purchase, either as a hard copy or a PDF format….. All proceeds go to the MS Charity Shop, here in Geelong West….. Please contact me here through my web page and I can chat about arrangements from there…. Oh, the booklet is called “Tullawalla:  This Is What Matters”, all about the two months since I’ve been back from Philadelphia……And I’ll attach my poem from the booklet, “This Is What Matters”….. I have also posted this article at “Go Dog Go Cafe’s” Promote Yourself Monday…. To visit their fabulous site, please click >> Here

This Is What Matters

My Thursday evenings, are a boys night out

As usual, we drank and chattered

Opinions on every general topic

No politics nor religion

We talk about important issues

Mainly, travel, music and sports

Lively banter, of who’s who

Any, this and thats

We know what matters

And how to save a world in tatters

Then I was asked about my trip

My adventures in New York

And the meeting of my cousins and their families

In the warmth of Philadelphia

Fondly, I mentioned my time there

With cousins Ken, Maureen and Terry

And of course, my special niece, Kerri

I explained how they thoroughly spoilt me

I said “Truly the best time of my life”

Slowly tears welled in my eyes

And my friends, saw the liquid joy in my heart

Ivor Steven (c)  August 2019

Have A Coffee And Cake With Me

Here At the Box-Office Cafe

Comfortable, warm, within quaint, rustic decor

Having my lunch break, away from work

Me and my travelling back-pack

Royal blue. light and true

I wear her like a second skin

Touring everywhere with me

From Geelong’s Bell Post Hill

To Philadelphia’s Bensalem

Carrying my notebooks and pens

And those Tullawalla booklets

The words are always in my bag

They’re for anyone to peruse, at a local cafe

Could be anyone, that I might sit next too

A friendly chat, an introduction, a hello

If they’re interested in what I do

I hand them my poetry website card

This is what I write, thank you

They smile, and say “I’ll read your words”

Ivor Steven (c)  August 2019