This haiku was a very sad piece for me to write. Personally, the words are an ode/tribute to our grandniece, Georgia, who was only 20…… Please, I’m ok, I’m wishing my words are appropriately good enough for the poor child lost….
A Flower Gone
In a sea of lights
She, an unpicked bloom, wilted
Young and fresh, now gone
Ivor Steven (c) 2018
I suppose you could call this post a “black and white comparison piece of writing”. This week’s, weekly photo prompt: Comparison
Dear readers for the last 5 days of my 2 weeks(so far) hospital stay, I’ve been in isolation, and to help me fill in my singular time here I’ve been using a large whiteboard to write my poems on, and I’ve been writing a poem or Haiku everyday, and of course, my whiteboard is now full. Hopefully this is a sign!!, and it’s nearly time for me to go home. I’ve thoroughly enjoyed the process, both physically and mentally, and everyone around me has appreciated my writings, my nurses, doctors, attendants, administrative staff, and all my visitor’s, have all come in and had a read of my whiteboard over these day’s. I don’t think this isolation room has seen the likes of a plumber/poet before, and the buzzing atmosphere of expectation, in room 5 on level seven, has made it a pleasant place to be..
Ivor Steven (c) 2018
The featured image above, is taken from Leonard Cohen’s, Book of Longing, page 154.
Haiku
A Window Voice
I cannot hear the bird
Singing in the window tree
Birds are the free voice
Ivor Steven (c) 2018
Ivor Steven (c) 2018
I’m going for a procedure this morning, a bronchoscopy, an examination of my lungs. Hopefully they’ll have some good results for me, and I’m able to go home soon, so I can tend to my Day Lily.
Upon my pillow I sleep
Good morning, I do peek
From the cushion of my dreams
A pads radiating beams
Blushing red hues, oh so bright
You bloom during the night
After cuddling the dew
You open up your scenic view.
Flowering, standing proud and steep
Perfection at my feet
A glorious Lily, like wings of a dove
And by Day you air your love
Ivor Steven (c) 2018.
I’ve been hidden away
Out of sight
Out of harm’s way
Locked in my room
A poet Pharaoh’s tomb
Or a butterfly’s cocoon
There’s a shining light in my bubble
On top of all my rubble
Above the deathly quietness
I’m a lonesome chick in his nest
Or a bear with a sore head
Hibernating in his bed
Tucked away for winter
Living in an Eskimo’s igloo
Day after day, I’m wearing old
Isolation my saviour, from the cold
Ivor Steven (c) 2018
My curtains were opened
I saw a setting eclipse
And I decided to walk
To the south side of the moon
Taking my own spoon
I heard there’s a cheese-cake tasting
A sweet crumbly base
Topped with blueberries and cream
Life’s not about lying in bed
I’ll meet you for a kiss
After school
Down by the old pool
Ivor Steven (c) 2018
All My News. By: Leonard Cohen
Do not decode
these cries of line
They are the road
and not the sign
Nor deconstruct
my drugless high
I’m sober but
I like to fly
Then quickened with
my open talk
You need not pick
the ancient lock
From Leonard Cohen’s, Poems And Songs, produced by “Everyman’s Library Pocket Poets”. 1993
Old wooden steps
Going down, worn and steep
Revealing a cellar, candle-lit
Walls of blue-stone blocks
With a stained cedar ceiling
Creating a friendly aura of closeness
Intimate and cosy
A perfect place for Mr Cohen’s spirit to be
Sweet Amie Brulee
Sings and plays his songs
And in between, graciously reads his poetry
Jovially chats to the audience
Relaxed and carefree
Her demure smile is spontaneous
Divulging stories about his works
With enthusiasm and passion
Infusing her own subtle wit and humour
A show of genuine warmth and charm
From his tower of song, Leonard would be pleased
The two video’s below, are with my Phone, a Samsung Galaxy S 5. Hopefully the cyberspace mail-man delivers them intact. The first video below, is of Amie recited Leonard Cohen’s poem, “Ballard of the Absent Mare”
The second video below, is of Amie, singing, “Leaving The Table”, sorry but you may have to turn the volume up.
Ivor Steven (c) 2018
Weekly Word Prompt : This week’s word prompt is : Perspective.
This is an old poem of mine, The poem “Inside Out”, is more just a rhyme and a play on a few featured words. Over the road from were I once lived, there was a furniture shop, and the advertising hoarding was, “Inside Out, Exotic Furniture”, well I was sitting there waiting for the bus, and in my minds imagination, I changed the the words to “Inside-out, Upside-down, Erotic Furniture”, and hence my little anecdote was laid…. with a totally different perspective..
Inside Out
The view of my love seems upside down.
When I’m at the bottom of her flowing gown.
And my erotic picture appears inside out.
What’s this scenic love all about.
The ways of my love seem upside down.
When she’s on top, covering me ’til I drown.
And I’m underneath, neither in, nor out.
What’s this crazy love all about.
The river of my love seems upside down.
When I’m sitting inside her smiling frown.
And her foreign body hits me in and out.
What’s this exotic love all about.
The world of my love seems upside down.
When I’m laying below her pounding mound.
And her endless thrusts, feel inside out.
What’s this frenzied love all about.
Ivor Steven (c 2018
Ivor.Plumber/Poet 