Laying beside me, she quietly snores
Upon my pillow, her out-stretched fluffy paws
Slowly she awakes, breakfast is due
Nuzzling my face, come-on you !
Looking straight at me, friendly brown eyes
Wagging her tail, she’s forever loving and shy
Long golden ears, flip and flop
Smooches and cuddles, she never stops
Ivor Steven (c) 2018
words written, her silent years
every fallen tear
words written, out of sheer fear
often drowning in beer
words written, not so severe
my everlasting revere
words written, for everyone to hear
exploring a new frontier
words written, clouds beginning to clear
searching for love, far away and near
words written, needing someone to steer
tomorrow, and beyond my time here
Ivor Steven (c) 2018
Hi dear readers, Ivor’s at it again, looking after a gorgeous dog for ten days. Let me introduce you to “Cyndy”, I’m minding her, while her owner is away on holidays. Cyndy and and I are dear friends from a few years ago, when we all lived together, Lily and Cyndy, Ivor and Sue,….. Sue is my ex-girlfriend/partner from those days. Cyndy is a snuggly King George Cavalier, and she’s a healthy 9 year-old bundle of joy, and she hasn’t left my side since she arrived here this morning. We are in for a lovely time together over the next ten days, and as you can see in the below picture, Cyndy has already made herself at home, up on my bed…. xx
Dawn’s spring-time sunshine bathes me
Relaxing here under my verandah tree
Sipping on lemon and ginger tea
Watching a busy working honey-bee
Dad’s annual orchids are blooming
The flowers are glowing and beaming
I hear their spirit-bird songs swooning
Good morning dad, mum, and my girl, our day’s booming
Xavier Rudd, Lyrics
“Follow The Sun”
Follow, follow the sun
And which way the wind blows
When this day is done
Breathe, breathe in the air
Set your intentions
Dream with care
Tomorrow’s a new day for everyone
A brand new moon and brand new sun
So follow, follow the sun
The direction of the birds
The direction of love
Breathe, breathe in the air
Cherish this moment
Cherish this breath
Tomorrow’s a new day for everyone
A brand new moon, brand new sun
When you feel life coming down on you like a heavy weight
When you feel this crazy society adding to the strain
Take a stroll to the nearest water’s edge, remember your place
Many moons have risen and fallen long, long before you came
So which way is the wind blowing
What does your heart say
So follow, follow the sun
And which way the wind blows
When this day is done
Ivor Steven (c) 2018
I’m lying here on the floor, prone again
Pining in vain
Listening to Leonard’s ballads again
Flooding my soul in rain
There’s happy dreams
And shattered dreams
All flying by
Passing under yesterday’s indoor sky
Here today, where’s tomorrow
Drifting through clouds of sorrow
My tunnel visions are echoing
Like rusty train wheels, loudly resonating
I’m my old verandah door, swinging
Badly hinged, my feelings are hanging
Knowing I’m a lonely alien widower
Untouchable, like a Hindu follower
Caresses by wandering hands, shunned and cropped
Wondering why my foreign heart suddenly stopped.
Ivor Steven (c) 2018
I read a glorious article by Gina of Singledust this morning, please do go over and have a read, Click >> HERE. Thanks to Gina, her lovely “Letter”, prompted me into remembering this old poem, that’s been hidden away in my archives, and that’s the reason “why” I’m posting these words today.
Unknowingly, I often dream of her serene ashen face
Years ago, I gently held her frailty in my tired arms
Softly whispering to her, last words of love and grace
Don’t ask me why, I count the days, since I’ve missed her charms
I cannot give you a sensible nor plausible answer
Don’t ask my why, I count the weeks, since I lost my way
I’m unable to fathom the depths of my inner cancer
Don’t ask me why, I count the months, since she died that day
Because I’m still gradually recovering
Remembering she’ll never ever go away
And somehow, I’m steadily rediscovering
Knowing someday, I’ll be allowed to stay
Ivor Steven (c) 2018
Weekly Prompt: This weeks Word Prompt; Germs
There’s festering germs in my brain
The hallucination seems real
Last night I went to a funeral
The funeral was mine
Attending the wake
In the forest beside the lake
I was a mental mess
Walking around, dressed in my finest
A plastic name-tag tied to my thong
They were singing my song
Alone, I trekked through botanical gardens
Heading towards the big game
Couldn’t remember who was playing
Does it even matter
I was too busy dictating
My last will and testament
To any-one who would listen
Telling the young ones, not to worry
“Uncle Ivor will look after you, we all belong”
They were singing my song
There wasn’t a church
More like the Football Club hall
Big enough to hold them all
Ample food and gallons to drink
Leonard was there all along
He was singing my song
There was no Hallelujah
Making it write, knew the words
A Tennessee man played the drums
Every foot was tapping to the beat
The beat goes on, and on
They were singing my song
The music resonated into my art gallery
Organised to humour the goddess
The local switchboard was frantic, like a chatter blog
Announcing a wake, under the stars
Celestial, stellar, and beyond
They were singing my song
Lemons adorned the tables
Soul gifts, smelling fresh as hell
Too fiery there, I wasn’t allowed to dwell
The crowd was giving me the cold shoulder
I was talking to myself in Antarctica
Overhearing the laughter, rejoicing in my coldness
They were singing my song
One of us cannot be wrong
I’d like to thank the following, fellow friends/bloggers, for attending my dream-time wake, as per my dream, in order of appearance.
1. Mental Mess
2. DoesItEvenMatter
3. Making It Write
4. The Tennessee Poet
5. Humouring The Goddess
6. Chatter Blog
7. Stella
8. Lemon
9. Soul Gifts
10. Fresh Hell
11. Fiery
12. Talking To Myself
And of course, Leonard Cohen, for his glorious music and Lyrics.
And here is my poem, “It’s Just A Little Dream”
https://ivors20.wordpress.com/2017/12/18/its-just-a-little-dream-2/
Ivor Steven (c) 2018
Here is a dual Haiku I’ve written this morning, and if anyone knows what this sort of Haiku format is called, please let me know.
Today
I walk past today
Remembering yesterday
Gone is tomorrow
Today my earth blooms
Yesterday is forgotten
Tomorrow I weep
Ivor Steven (c)
Weekly Prompt: Photo prompt for this week, Right Place Right Time
I’m presenting pictures here of “My Home”, and feeling incredibly fortunate, that I happened to be in the right place at the right time, two years ago, when I was lucky enough to find this little abode for sale. And on inspection I immediately feel in love with the place, knowing that this is where my soul could finally be at peace, and I came to engross myself in this writers haven that I had dreamt of, and knowing that it was now going to become a reality. Thank you to Linda, of Spiritual Dragonfly, for inspiring to do this post about “My Place”, and I hope all is well there for Linda over in Carolina, after coping with Hurricane Florence.
Above, my verandah area, my gallery, and where the old family home name, “Tullawalla” sign, is now proudly on display.
Above, My fernery, my garden courtyard, and more of my verandah gallery.
Above. More of my gallery under the verandah, and my barbeque and my outdoor speakers, which are wired back to my computer sound system, I hope the neighbours appreciate my music choices
Above. My home, front view, window garden bed and my garage. The writers bedroom and studio/desk area, is where all the poems are written. And attached below a lovely song from Xavier Rudd… “Home”
Ivor Steven (c) 2018
I’ve visions of Vikings sailing in the cold
Plundering distant hearts and pilfering gold
I’m dreaming of the old farmer’s wife
Milking cows, cleaning and baking for life
I’ve feelings for the king, in his isolated castle
Looking forlornly upon his drawbridge, a foodless trestle
I’m wandering through an empty paddock
Kicking dew off the grass, searching for a lovers locket
I’ve plans for the planets desolate future
Growing purple tomatoe ferns until they’re mature
I’m following her brave journey’s every mile
Climbing over dying garden beds and rotting fence stiles
I’ve finished falling under broken skies
Claiming peace amongst tomorrows butterflies
Ivor.Plumber/Poet 