Nourishment

Above, the Featured Image, is a photo of our impressive Geelong Library, I was there this morning receiving my monthly nourishment of shared poetry readings, a gathering of fellow Geelong Writers poet members, and a meeting that truly enhances my love of poetry….

Nourishment

I’ve been slowly recovering

And calmly re-discovering

Joyful nourishment for my soul

And now, I do care about myself

Enough, that I’ll have to build more room

To accommodate my regenerating life

The actual skill

Is having the will

From a little seed sown

Big things are grown

All creations are a masterpiece

Rejuvenating our ancient existence

Ivor Steven (c) July 2019

A Walk, A Coffee, And Alone

Above: Moorabool Valley Cafe, homestead out front of the cafe, the shed that can be seen from the cafe verandah (main featured image), horse agistment paddocks surrounding the cafe.

A Walk, A Coffee, And Alone

Little Cyndi has gone home

Here I am, again alone

The house is strangely quiet

I feel coffee and cake is on the diet

Late afternoon, and I’ll go for a walk

To my favourite cafe, where the magpies squawk

A stroll in the winter sun

And remember, I am not the only one

Reflect on life’s good times

And rekindle, my memories and rhymes

Above: The walking path close to my house, and the sunset as I was approaching home.

Above: Cyndi, yes it’s going home time……

Ivor Steven (c) July 2019

Questionnaire

I’m filling out a questionnaire

And I’m at my desk pondering

At one of the of the questions

Marital status ?

Single, married, or widowed

I had to stop and think

Before, I could tick the box

Widowed !!

The fact, hit me between the eyes

Am I a weirdo

Do I look like a creep

Now, that I’m widowed

 

I do not feel different, nor special

Her clock stopped, she ran out of time

And I still do not comprehend

Why ?

I am alright now

Yeah, but why ?

I remember her smile

When she whispered to me

” Life will eventually be easier for you:”

Most of the time

Now, I’ll tick that box

Widowed ………..

 

 

Ivor Steven (c)  July 2019

 

 

Lisa Hannigan

Here I present the music I’m listening to this morning, from an Irish singer/songwriter Lisa Hannigan.  I hope enjoy her singing, and you might like to see more of her on YouTube….

Lisa Hannigan: Lyrics.

“We, The Drowned”

We, the drowned
Hold our hollow hearted ground
Til we swallow ourselves down
AgainWe, the ashes,
We spend our days like matches
And burned ourselves as black as
The end.

We know not the fire in which we burn
But we sing and we sing
And the flames grow higher.
We read not the pages which we turn
But we sing, and we sing, and we sing, and we sing

We, the wrong,
We the sewn up and long gone,
Were before and all along
Like this

We, the drowned
The lost and found out,
We are all finished again.

Ivor Steven (c)  July 2019

Frosted Glass

Frosted Glass  (Revised)

 

My courtyard window is frosted

From this morning’s piercing coldness

It’s a freezing winter’s day

The wind feels like razor blades

Even the venetian blinds, are shaking

With-holding none of the external arctic blast

 

A frozen sparrow lays on the sill

Ready to fall, on dirt, so icy

A meagre frigid offering

To the polar Snowlord

And I’m a blizzard’s open door

A captured statue, shivering to the core

Riveted, by my eternal music score

Leonard Cohen’s, Avalanche and more

 

Ivor Steven (c)  July 2019

 

The Song Plays Through the Night

I twist and roll over

A musical world spins inside my head

 

My somersault of dreams

Rotates under my bed-spread

 

Upside down

Rhythmical tiredness falls out of my seams

 

Words tumble around

Nameless titles and endless tunes abound

 

The bad moon’s turning

Singing the blues, over my empty town

 

I twist and roll over, again

I’m back where I started, I hear my angel humming, Hallelujah

 

Ivor Steven (c)  July 2019

Arctic Winds.

Today’s poem is one I wrote two years ago, and I was fortunate enough to have the piece published by, ‘Vita Brevis Poetry Magazine’, back in January 2018. A magazine for poets, and to all my readers/followers, I sincerely recommend that you visit/follow the Vita Brevis site,
https://vitabrevisliterature.com.

Artwork:  By Kerri Costello, Graphic Design Artist, my beautiful niece/second cousin, who lives in Philadelphia, she’s so very talented, and a very special person in my life, thank you Kerri.

 

Arctic Winds

 

I’m winter hibernating

Inside an Eskimo’s hut

Feeding only on fish oil

And frozen blue blood

My heart’s cold and dormant

Cowering under a dampened vestment

Wind-swept by a blizzard’s dust

Covered in icicles of my rust

My eyes are swollen rocks

Amidst polarised sockets

Terrorising all that’s passed

Like forgotten arctic icebergs

My veins are hollow crevasses

Inside a glaciers ice-flow

Sheering and groaning chasms

Like my memories deepest fjord

 

Ivor Steven (c)  July 2019

 

 

 

My Door’s Firmly Shut

Good morning dear readers, It’s a chilly Sunday here in Geelong, but it’s bad, my sister is coming down from Ballarat and we are going out for lunch. Cyndi will be staying inside, curled up next to the heater…..

 

My Door’s Firmly Shut

Early Sunday morning

At my desk

Writing in pencil

The inks frozen

No joke

Send the firewood

Light up my heart

With soulful words

Give my fingers a start

Knuckles are throbbing

An arthritic chill

My dog’s coughing

Poor little girl

She feels it too

Ah, not to worry

A sombre smile

A sun-ray

Shining through

Thawing my will

Freeing my quill 

 

 

Ivor Steven. (c)  July 2019