Category: Poems

Tullawalla Booklets, at “Grill’d” On Pakington Street

Here I am at “Grill’d” On Pakington Street

Enjoying a few relaxing beers

I introduce myself to Ryan, chef and barman, in charge

We chat about our travel adventures

Then I happened to mention that I’m a writer

And he’s genuinely interested in my poetry booklets

After talking about the purpose of my writings

Ryan enthusiastically agrees to display a couple of my books

On the restaurant’s customer magazine rack

I’m humbled, and smiling, beyond pleased

I explain to Ryan, there’s an advert inside the covers

Informing the readers, that they may purchase the books

A few blocks down, on Pakington Street

At the counter of the M.S. Charity shop

With all proceeds going to the M.S. Society

I gratefully shake Ryan’s hand

And I say I’ll be back regularly, to change-over the booklets

Cheers To Ryan, and a sincere thank you to “Grill’d” On Pakington Street.

 

Please take the time to Click on this link to find out more about, “Grill’d” On Pakington Street.  https://www.grilld.com.au/restaurants/victoria/geelong/pakington-st#GoogleLocal

 

 

Ivor Steven (c)  August 2019

Rain Again

Sunday morning and the cold rain is still falling from the sky. Looks like our wet winter began way back in May, however despite the freezing weather, I’m dressing-up in my winter woollies and venturing out again today…… and I graciously accept this is our fate for the next few days, as I continue participate in life, in every-way, of everyday….   Below I’ve re-posted some of my wintry  poems and Haiku’s that I’ve recently written……

 

Rain In May

 

The day is one of rain.

Washing streets of thoughts down the drain.

Cleansing the stains.

Flooding the silence again.

The day is dismal and grey.

Drowning the sun, it begun in May.

Many years full of dismay.

Pouring rain’s, here to stay

 

 

Cold Rain

 

Time’s, I played in rain

Today I worked in the cold

Wet and shivering

Autumn’s fat rain drops

Have lost their warmth and softness

Winter’s hard as ice

 

Haiku: Winter Rain

 

Chilling winter rains

Heavy big drops of coldness

Spread by icy winds

 

Haiku: Hail And Sun

 

Hail slaps the pavement

Bitumen puddles shimmer

Winter sun bursts through

 

Ivor Steven (c)  August 2019

Unusually Cold

Friday Fun – unusual.

For the prompt site by CalmKate, please click >> Here

Unusually Cold

Dawn sounds like a howling wolf

Thudding noises hit the roof

Icy fat rain drops

Heavy sleet doesn’t stop

Pouring, overflowing buckets and frozen cups

Shovelling hail from my front steps

The coldest winter is here to stay

Polar blizzards everyday

Freezing puddles abound

Feet splash on the cold, cold ground

A week of remaining inside

This time, the weatherman hadn’t lied

Ivor Steven (c) August 2019

Finger-tips Cracked And Dry

I’ve blue glue hands

My palms lack oiling glands

Finger-tips cracked and dry

Too many days, under cold sky

Working too hard

Forgetting my courtyard

 

I’ve writer’s cramp

At my desk under neon lamp

Finger-tips cracked and dry

Too many hours, pass after shut-eye

Writing ’til midnight

Editing never goes right

 

I’m not over straining

Recovery plans, are still in training

Finger-tips cracked and dry

Too many dreams, learning how to fly

Reading poetry all night

Regaining my old mind and insight

 

Ivor Steven (c)  August 2019

Long, Long Way

I’ve come a long, long way

I remember the bad, bad days

When yesterday’s were dark and grey

On level seven, under heaven’s archway

 

Laying there immobile and prone

Waiting for the etching of my headstone

Unable to call an angel on my phone

 

Unknowingly, my silent message, spun out of the cyclone

I awoke inside a comfortable twilight zone

Slowly realising I’d been saved, and finality was postponed

 

 

Ivor Steven (c)  August 2019

Tullawalla #11

Hello dear readers and followers, again I must apologise for not being on WordPress and blogging with my normal zest….  I’ve been busy working (ouchie), socialising (yeah), and arduously  preparing and typing up my Eleventh Tullawalla Poetry Booklet….. Wow what a task I set myself, this booklet contains fifty of my poems, and I found the extra ten  poems to be a far bigger booklet than I thought it would be……. Anyhow the booklet is finally completed, and 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 web page and I can chat about arrangements from there…. Oh, the booklet is called “Tullawalla:  This Is What Matters”, all about the two months since I’ve been back from Philadelphia……And I’ll attach my poem from the booklet, “This Is What Matters”….. I have also posted this article at “Go Dog Go Cafe’s” Promote Yourself Monday…. To visit their fabulous site, please click >> Here

This Is What Matters

 

My Thursday evenings, are a boys night out

As usual, we drank and chattered

Opinions on every general topic

No politics nor religion

We talk about important issues

Mainly, travel, music and sports

Lively banter, of who’s who

Any, this and thats

We know what matters

And how to save a world in tatters

 

Then I was asked about my trip

My adventures in New York

And the meeting of my cousins and their families

In the warmth of Philadelphia

Fondly, I mentioned my time there

With cousins Ken, Maureen and Terry

And of course, my special niece, Kerri

I explained how they thoroughly spoilt me

I said “Truly the best time of my life”

Slowly tears welled in my eyes

And my friends, saw the liquid joy in my heart

 

 

Ivor Steven (c)  August 2019

copyright

Have A Coffee And Cake With Me

Have A Coffee And Cake With Me

 

Here At the Box-Office Cafe

Comfortable, warm, within quaint, rustic decor

Having my lunch break, away from work

Me and my travelling back-pack

Royal blue. light and true

I wear her like a second skin

Touring everywhere with me

From Geelong’s Bell Post Hill

To Philadelphia’s Bensalem

Carrying my notebooks and pens

And those Tullawalla booklets

The words are always in my bag

They’re for anyone to peruse, at a local cafe

Could be anyone, that I might sit next too

A friendly chat, an introduction, a hello

If they’re interested in what I do

I hand them my poetry website card

This is what I write, thank you

They smile, and say “I’ll read your words”

 

 

Ivor Steven (c)  August 2019

 

 

A Quilt, For A Good Man.

I’ve had this quilt for three years now, a birthday present from my girlfriend at that time. The quilt covers me every night, and I wonder and I dream, of the past, and the future. The past clings to me, like a warm blanket, and the future awakens every morning, when I toss the sheets back over the quilt.20170308_145809

A Quilt, For A Good Man. 

 

A quilt, crafted by hand.

Definitely for a man.

Bold and beautiful.

Maybe, I was a fool.

A quilt, for lonely nights. 

Made to keep me warm, under a cool moonlight.

Patterns of music notes and instruments.

Although, not Cohen’s Hallelujah, fourth or fifth movement.

A quilt, reminding me constantly.

However, not unpleasantly.

Like winter leaves, grey and black.

And again, there’s no turning back.

 

Ivor Steven (c)  July 2019

Midnight Creek

Midnight Creek

 

The old plumber is back on the street

My bodies aching and I’m beat

Bloodied fingers and sore feet

Thoughts are drifting up midnight’s creek

 

I’ve crudely been reminded, how hard this job is to do

Cracked hands were turning black and blue

Bending and twisting, I willed myself through

Working the dusty tools, I was thinking of you

 

Pondering, I know I’ve given it my best

Here on my quiet riverbed, I rest

My joints will recover, in time for my next test

Tentatively, I’m flying out of this restoration nest

 

Ivor Steven (c)  July 2019