Trying To Leave Something Behind


Trying to Leave Something Behind



My old pen is a blunt knife

Scraping along the edges of life

Hanging on by my fingernails

To the ancient spirits that fill my empty sails



My days are Leis of greys

Yesterday’s clouds a sky ballet

Today, here comes the suns soothing rays

Turning my grey horizon into a rosy bouquet



My pages of endless blue lines

Are becoming tomorrows book of wisdom and rhymes

My volumes of dreams are now to be a reality

Retrieving hidden debris from under my courtyard fernery



Ivor Steven (c) October 2020

Tullawalla # 20 Trying To Leave Something Behind

Hello dear readers and followers. During these days of continuing restrictions, I’ve been preparing and typing madly, to produce my Twentieth Tullawalla Poetry Booklet….. For new readers that don’t know about these booklets, they are basically the reason why I write poetry. I produce these ‘home-printed’ booklets for the sole purpose of raising funds for my favourite charity organisation, 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 .via, submissions, I donate to the MS Society…. I’m proud to announce, that the sale of my “Tullawalla Booklets”, have now gone pass $1300.00, … to all the lovely readers, who have donated, to help achieve such a wonderful amount, a big heartfelt thank you, from “us” and the MS Society … …..Amazingly, there is now a total of “822 poems”, in my collection/series of 20 Tullawalla Booklets. This booklet is finally completed, and ready for sale now !! 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 website page and I can chat about arrangements from there…. Oh, the booklet is called “Tullawalla”: “Trying to Leave Something Behind”… …. And here is the link to my website >> https://ivors20.wordpress.com




Ivor Steven (c) October 2020

Faerie Pantomime


Mid morning and here comes the sun

The Wala* goddess smiles on everyone

Enriching the bloody goodness in our veins

And saturating our skin when the sky rains



Is your blood the same colour as mine?

Does your skin drip-dry under the same sunshine?

Are your dreams moonbeam snippets of time?

Do you imagine the world to be a faerie’s pantomime?

And we the audience, laughing at their mystical rhymes

Together dancing and ringing the city’s peace chimes




*Wala: Aboriginal mythical sun goddess.




Ivor Steven (c) October 2020

Faerie Pantomime

This week’s Wednesday Challenge on Weekly Prompts is, Badly CroppedPlease go and visit their fabulous site by clicking >> Here . Below is my abstract response to the prompt… Where I ‘Imagine’ the world has been “Badly Cropped” in recent times..


Faerie Pantomime

Mid morning and here comes the sun

The Wala* goddess smiles on everyone

Enriching the bloody goodness in our veins

And saturating our skin when the sky rains



Is your blood the same colour as mine?

Does your skin drip-dry under the same sunshine?

Are your dreams moonbeam snippets of time?

Do you imagine the world to be a faerie’s pantomime?

And we the audience, laughing at their mystical rhymes

Together dancing and ringing the city’s peace chimes





*Wala: Aboriginal mythical solar goddess.


Ivor Steven (c) October 2020

My Fiery Faerie and Her Dragonfly

Did you see my fiery faerie in the sky

Hitching a ride upon her giant dragonfly

Half a mile above cloud nine

She was there! Clutching todays sunshine

And burning towards never-neverland

Shying away from the captains crooked hand

Desperately looking for Peter Pan’s lost boys

And their purple suitcase full of magical toys



Below on the water she hears muffled cries and a loud “tick-tock”

“Beware!” Tinkerbell declares “That’s the Crocodile’s clock”

Fearlessly my faerie swoops and snatches the boys off the pirate-ship deck

And the boys yell “We’re saved from the jaws of those roughnecks”





Ivor Steven (c) October 2020

Promote Yourself Monday, October 12, 2020

Dear readers and followers, here’s a great opportunity for your writings to be read by other writers, and also to find and meet other writers. You are very welcome to participate, come along and visit our writer friendly site….. by clicking on >> view original post…. at the bottom of this reblog…

braveandrecklessblog's avatarGo Dog Go Café

Promote yourself Mon

Welcome to Promote Yourself Monday.  All Go Dog Go Cafe community members are invited to post one link to one specific piece of their writing (600 words or less please!) they have published on their blog, Facebook page, or Instagram feed into the comments section below.

If you post a link, be sure to read some of the other great writing people have linked to.

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Not Here nor There

From here in Australia, I’ve been reading the stories about Mr Trump and his having contracted the ‘Covid’ virus this week, and his subsequent “miraculous/cure” recovery…. which seemed to remind me of this poem I wrote back in October 2017


Not Here nor There

My time is slowly passing.

Age is creeping, not lasting.

I’m frail and growing older.

My body shivers when it’s colder.

And sweats like hell, in the heat.

My mind is feeble and weak.

I don’t seem to remember.

Whether it’s March, April, or September.

Here I sit, what am I doing.

There I look, where am I going.

There I ask, what’s for tea dear.

Oh, I forgot, she’s not here.

Well best I retire to bed.

Wrest this weary head.

Under a linen sheet, like a white hood.

And lie here, on this piece of driftwood.




Ivor Steven (c) October 2017

Is There Love Behind Steamed-up Glasses Of Dread

This week’s Wednesday Challenge on Weekly Prompts is; STEAMED LENSES. Please go over and check out their fabulous site by clicking  >> Here .  The below poem is my response to the prompt…

 

Is There Love Behind Steamed-up Glasses Of Dread

 

Life is indeed a tangle web

Behind steamed-up glasses of dread

But finding an end to the masks loose threads

Eventually unbinds previous words misread

 

We are bruised and torn

We are the drowned unicorns

Hatred is trampling our weary souls

Love and healing should be our goals

 

Love is every season, and the ones in between

Love is every moonbeam, and the ones in between

Love is every sunrise, and the ones in between

Love is an afternoon sea-breeze, and the cool evenings in between

I know these visions to be a true call

Because I’ve looked into the wizard’s crystal-ball

 

Ivor Steven (c)  October 2020