Category: Music

Haiku. A Flower Gone

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

My Isolation Whiteboard

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

Day Lily And Love

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.

Isolation Time

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

Lines To Nowhere

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

Oh What A Night, They Sent Me Home Tight

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

Blue-stone Cellar

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