Today I forgot the date
I’ve yet to set foot on the landscape
And I cannot recall last night’s videotape
Maybe I went to bed too late
Or did I drink too many of those red grapes
I’m fighting with my breakfast crepe
And losing the battle to look shipshape
It’s time to put on my battered superman cape
And unlock last year’s rusty gate
Ready for next year’s great escape
Ivor Steven (c) December 2020
Over on Weekly Prompts, their Weekend Challenge is the word, ART “The main thing is to be moved, to love, to hope, to tremble, to live.” – Auguste Rodin. Please go over and visit their fabulous site by clicking >>HERE. My poem today was written before I saw the “Prompt”, but if you use your imagination you will understand the artwork of my poem… “A true artist is not one who is inspired, but one who inspires others.” ― Salvador Dali
Life’s Handcuffs
Wherever aging shadows fall
time watches cracks grow on fading walls
Imagination cultivates souls to evolve
and emancipates the hearts emotions
Imagination motivates the brain to think
and instigates the eyes to open wider
Imagination activates the sculptures hiding in my museum
and stimulates the feathers of my old quill
Are these visions ever to be enough
enough for my dreams to escape life’s handcuffs
Ivor Steven (c) December 2020
Hello dear readers, here I am feeling nostalgic, yes it’s Christmas time, and I have too write a rhyme about how I feel inside… I am not sad, just a guy reminiscing… enjoy my words, and savour Damien Rice’s wonderful song….
Memory Kisses
A cool breeze caresses my open heart
An aura of warmth touches my lonely soul
Memory dust settles upon my empty lips
I cannot see her celestial star shine
But I sense her feathery kisses
As her spirit hovers above me for Christmas
Ivor Steven (c) December 2020.
life is a arduous marathon
a conundrum until the finishing line
we live in the moment
yesterday has gone
and we are not in charge of tomorrow
today is a new gift to be opened
time knowingly evolves in ripples and wrinkles
openly displaying our shuffles and muffles
life is a bittersweet marathon
moving forward without bitterness
savouring the sweetness of completing the race
I’m leaving my today
a little bit wiser and a day older
gratefully my heart beats healthily
Featured Image: A photo of a painting hanging in the waiting room at the heart specialist rooms
Ivor Steven (c) December 2020
café courtyard
my chromatic citadel
a comfy circle
of calm citizens
closely coexisting
the clock casually chimes
crunchy cereal comes
crazy cranberries
and cool cherries
cultured coffee
cinnamon cake
with celestial chords
by Cohen and Cave
and Cyndi’s choral classic
caressing city central
Ivor Steven (c) December 2020.
A big thank you to Beth for inspiring my self indulgent poem here, from her thought provoking article >> https://ididnthavemyglasseson.com/2020/12/14/can-you-write/
A Spacey Eighty, Ten Years On
the quill is shaky
ink’s leaky and streaky
my dry skin is itchy
and old bones are achy
I am a flower child of the sixties
and after a crunchy brekkie
followed by a coffee and cakey
despite a shady plaguy
maybe I will ably write daily
when I’m a spacey eighty
Ivor Steven (c) December 2020
Two thousand and twenty
Dramatic events a plenty
Firstly the worst bush-fires for a century
When Mother-nature became the enemy
Then a foreign virus exploded
And Earth’s atmosphere corroded
Our lives turned cloudy and uncrowded
Covid even bloated and reloaded
No country was immune
And the World spun all out of tune
Here in Aussie-land normality returns for Christmas
And here’s cheers to next years unfinished business
Cheers
Ivor ((Hugs & Kisses))
Ivor Steven (c) December 2020
The featured image above, is my photo of a painting by Graeme Altman, titled ‘Hopeful-return’, while on display at the Boom Gallery in Geelong, during September 2018.
A Fish Out Of Water
I am not immortal
nor am I immune
I am a speck of rust
slowly fading into dust
I cannot walk on water
nor do I swim like an otter
I am a stoic starfish
motionless and sun blemished
I cannot soar beyond the sky
nor can I float like a butterfly
I am a flightless lyrebird
raucous and eternally seeking the word
Ivor Steven (c) December
I’m Radioactive
Life is a waiting game
Between scans and closing door frames
I am waiting for a nuclear cardio stress test
And X-rays of my radioactive chest
The numbing sensation is surreal
Inside a buzzing tunnel I am sealed
Where magnetic photos are taken
And I am waiting, feeling forsaken
“Damn.” The negatives were not clear enough
I wait another hour for the next shot of dyestuff
Back behind those closing door frames
Life’s finality is a waiting game
Ivor Steven (c) December 2020
I was catching a bus home this afternoon, as per normal, after my walk down Pakington St. However, mistakenly I caught the wrong bus !! I looked up, and I did not see the sign. In the long process of hopping on a couple of different buses, I eventually found my way home. During my time of the extra bus trips, I came up with the words of this poem.
Sorry! We Caught The Wrong Bus
Is this the air I breathe?
A misty haze out in front of me
Is this the sky I see?
A big smoggy Vee
High in the mountain plains, flowerless, without bees
Miles of burnt-out wasteland and no trees
Beyond the eroded soils, there’s the earth’s oceans
Mercury settled deep, with a topping of dead fish by the millions
Is this black bitumen I walk on?
Long oily tar rolled out by the ton
Is this real water I drink?
Manufactured I sip. On my knees I do sink!
Mother nature. “Please forgive us!”
We did not know. “Sorry! We caught the wrong bus.”
Today’s poem is in response to Weekly Prompts, and their Wednesday Challenge, which is: Bus Riding! Please go over and visit their fabulous site by clicking > Here.
Ivor Steven (c) December 2020
Ivor.Plumber/Poet 