The ocean mirrors sky-blue

As I swim out and through

The beach’s breaking waves

Over the seas smooth caves

Tall and shimmering, surf’s up

In the shape of crystal cups

I glide down a glassy wall

Enshrined in a watery free-fall

Soaking in nature’s towering reward

One of my crescendo concord’s

 

Ivor Steven (c)  September 2019

I see a little blink, in her golden eye

As the purple nebula shades her sky

I feel her aloha clouds pulsate

As I step into her open gate

I need to caress her crystal tears

As her misty showers melt my fears

I gently glide onto her waiting throne

As her glowing lodestones entice me home

 

Ivor Steven (c)  September 2019

Hello dear readers and followers, again I must apologise for not being on WordPress and blogging with my normal zest….  I’ve been recovering (ouchie), and arduously  preparing and typing up my Twelve Tullawalla Poetry Booklet….. Wow, what a task I set myself. For new readers that don’t know about these booklets, they are basically the reason why I write poetry. I produce the booklets for the sole purpose of raising funds for my favourite charity organization, the MS Society, in Australia via the MS Charity Shop here in Geelong. And actually all money’s I receive for any of my poetry submissions, I also donate to the MS Society….. 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 site page and I can chat about arrangements from there…. Oh, the booklet is called “Tullawalla:  The Sky Above”, and here is the link to my website >> ivors20.wordpress.com

Hello dear readers, as some of you might know, one of my writers groups here in Geelong, is ‘Belmont Page’, and in partnership with the writing group, ‘Writeabout’, from the town of Drysdale, we have self-published a book called “Writeabout – Two”. The book is a collection of short stories, poetry, and free verse, and I’m proud to say, I have nine of my poems represented in the book. I’ve attached my nine poems that were selected to be published below. The book launch was yesterday, where writers and friends from both writing groups gathered, and enjoyed afternoon tea and champagne !!

 

Ivor Steven (c)  2019

Here I am, again on the waiting shelf

And strangely, smiling to myself

Laying back, in this comfortable chair

Reminiscing. My nurse, has curly red hair

She attaches the electrodes to my head

And tells me, “Ivor, do not fret”

“Relax and close your eyes”

For the next thirty minutes, I’m mesmerised

I’m in the theatre’s semi-dark

There’s occasional flashing lights and sparks

In the blink of an eye, I feel polarised

And then I waken from my lullaby

The scan time did surprisingly fly

There is no need for me to cry

I’m unplugged, the red haired nurse, asks me why

Reminiscing. I blush, and say goodbye

Ivor Steven (c) September 2019

Hello dear readers, I suppose nobody will ever understand me, or know where I’ve come from, nor comprehend, the difficult journey that I’ve travelled, to be here with you now.  Below is my humble poem of thanks, for your encouragement and support…..

My Feelings, You Are All, More Than Nine

 

The palms of my hands are wet

From wiping the tears off my cheeks

The soles of my feet are cold

But my soul is feeling like sunlit gold

 

With your shared warmth, caressing my open arms

My heart is now covered, in the ink of your kind words

And my gracious self, cannot speak

The praise I’ve received, has stolen my voice

 

So here I write, honestly, to you, my dear readers

I’m overwhelmed, humbled, and also honoured

Sincerely, I thank you

And here, I play this love song, for all of you

 

A poem I wrote for Michele, who inspired me to think of these words of praise and thanks, to all of those readers who enjoy my writings…….. ‘Always my pleasure’……..   

 

 

Ivor Steven (c)  September 2019

Life is starkly unusual

When darkness is having a duel

Inside our over tired heads

As we toss and turn in bed

 

The unconscious psyche, cannot help but peep

At the mind’s, old fighting black sheep

Locking horns over their lost flock

Rattling the bones of our over-anxious body clock

Then twisting thoughts against the boxing ropes

Finally, bells ring, and our punch-drunk soul wants to elope

 

Ivor Steven (c)  September 2019