I’m A Dreamer

Laying here on a hospital bed, life’s not quite right

Today’s window, isn’t in sight

The sun did rise, the day’s alight

Answering the sky, I’m a dreamer of the night

Morning thoughts of the day ahead, within this quiet

I could be in the park, flying my orange kite

Under a cool verandah, riding my silver bike

On the surf beach, cleansing myself of this blight

Soaking in seawater, sunbathing my body beyond white

Reality strikes, I’m here waiting for the next test’s bite

Ivor Steven (c) 2019

Time And The Sea

There’s wasted time, hours and days gone

My time, between one procedure and the next

Time to explore this healing castle

Time to chat, to eager listener’s

Time to write, about realities and dreams

Time to observe the people’s living within

Time to think about my world’s problems

Time to visualise pictures of tomorrow

I’m not a patient in his bed

I’m free standing and waiting instead

I’m a walking and talking local poet

I’m not allowed to vacate the site

They want me near, to study my plight

They want me here, to secure my bed

They need me near, to look into my mind

They need me here, so I’m easy to find

https://lyricstranslate.com/en/mi%C3%B0aftann-mid-evening.html

Mid-Evening

Now I have come home
After a journey on the deep seas.
The wave was so high,
The saltiness ate everything up.
I drowned in a black hole,
I pulled at the hand of death.
So high, it was so high,
And the moon lighted a path, yes the moon high in the sky,
And the moon lighted a path, yes the moon lighted a path.
So high, so high, wave of the sins, wave of the sins.

Ivor Steven (c) 2019

Odds And Ends, Christmas Cake Crumbs Everywhere

I hear whispers from afar

Echoing via the great southern star

I have my inner qualms

Amongst today’s tall palms

Do they know how the wind blows

How do they stop the spots that flow

Slow and fast

I’m living my fate

My time will have to wait

Best I not be late

I do have a willing heart

Following the light

The soul knows it’s right

We don’t have to fly too high

Before we’re soaring into the sky

I’ve got my Christmas cake

Sister’s special bake

Crumbs are everywhere

From here to Philadelphia

The Curse. Lyrics.
Agnes Obel
And the people went into their hide, they oh
From the start they didn’t know exactly why, why
Winter came and made it so all look alike, look alike
Underneath the grass would grow, aiming at the sky
It was swift, it was just, another wave of a miracle
But no one, nothing at all would go for the kill
If they called on every soul in the land, on the moon
Only then would they know a blessing in disguise
The curse ruled from the underground down by the shore
And their hope grew with a hunger to live unlike before
The curse ruled from the underground down by the shore
And their hope grew with a hunger to live unlike before
Tell me now of the very souls that look alike, look alike
Do you know the stranglehold covering their eyes?
If I call on every soul in the land, on the moon
Tell me if I’ll ever know a blessing in disguise
The curse ruled from the underground down by the shore
And their hope grew with a hunger to live unlike before
And the curse ruled from the underground down by the shore
And their hope grew with a hunger to live unlike before

Ivor Steven (c) 2019

Hello Dad

Hello Dad, and happy birthday, you were the most honourable and kindest man of my life. I’ve got a lot live up to Dad, my dear friend.

**By one of my favourite writers, Colleen of, “The Chatter Blog”, a superb piece

Etched In Stone

“When your father’s name is etched in stone

It is never as indelible

As the etching in your heart”       —  Colleen Faherty Brown

 

**By one of my favourite musicians, Neil Young, and his song “Old Man”

“Old Man”
“Old man look at my life,
I’m a lot like you were.
Old man look at my life,
I’m a lot like you were.

Old man look at my life,
Twenty four
and there’s so much more
Live alone in a paradise
That makes me think of two.

Love lost, such a cost,
Give me things
that don’t get lost.
Like a coin that won’t get tossed
Rolling home to you.

Old man take a look at my life
I’m a lot like you
I need someone to love me
the whole day through
Ah, one look in my eyes
and you can tell that’s true.

Lullabies, look in your eyes,
Run around the same old town.
Doesn’t mean that much to me
To mean that much to you.

I’ve been first and last
Look at how the time goes past.
But I’m all alone at last.
Rolling home to you.

Old man take a look at my life
I’m a lot like you
I need someone to love me
the whole day through
Ah, one look in my eyes
and you can tell that’s true.

Old man look at my life,
I’m a lot like you were.
Old man look at my life,
I’m a lot like you were.”        — Neil Young

Ivor Steven (c)  2019

Living On A Knife Edge

I’m posting this piece on “Go Dog Go Cafe” as part of there fabulous  “Promote Yourself Monday”   and a warm thank you to Michelle, for the invite

Fire, fire, there’s raging fires

I need help to stamp out the flames

Burning down the ancient timber bridge

The traveller’s last causeway to the edge

Spanning today’s harsh realities

Carrying life’s dreams and fantasies

 

Rain, rain, there’s a Noah’s flood

I need  help to stall the inundating mud

Fill the sandbags with the smouldering dead bugs

Smother these smelly thoughts of soaking rugs

Filter off the qualms and doubts

Leaving doctor’s drugs and grey-matter handouts

 

Warning, warning, outside there’s a heatwave

I need help to see through the dusty haze

Turn off the fiery furnace tonight

Close the doors, the fireflies are alight

Open your eyes, and view the glowing sights

Beyond the smoke, and life’s future delights

 

Ivor Steven (c)  2019

A Drought Of Tears In The Sky

Last night I tossed and turned, restless in my warm bed. I was dreaming these words tumbling around in my head

 

A Drought Of Tears In The Sky

 

How many empty clouds are floating in the sky

Before all the dark linings wave goodbye

 

How many lakes of sorrow will run dry

Before all the shallow waters will die

 

How many barren rivers must we try

Before all the deepest wells smell high

 

My hidden wishing well has run bone dry

I’ve no more flooding tears left to cry

 

Ivor Steven (c)  2019

Under The Shady Red-gum Tree

In response to The Weekly Photo Prompt : Red   << Click

My  little red sparrow’s eating salad tonight

Topped with fresh red cherry tomatoes

We’re dining at Noah’s wooden window sill

Dangling our legs over the edge

Into unknown red-mud waters

Tossing chewed-up bones to Judas

My sparrow’s now chirpy and cheeky

Retelling Judas the story, what if this is, as good as it gets

The little red sparrow’s wing is slowly healing

Resting under the shady red-gum tree.

 

 

Reg Gum.  The Last Frontier.   Lyrics.

There’s a corrugated highway Leading north from Port Augusta
Lined with ratted cars that didn’t rate a tow
The Salt plains out of Pimba And your eyes begin to stream
On to Kingoonya huddled dusty by the road
Romantic notions shattered Like the tyres that didn’t hack it
This has got to be the country’s last frontier
Where a sports car’s next to useless Running cattle grids and river beds
We drove a van from 1963

Someone mentioned walkabout And kiss your job goodbye
Just to see the country shimmer through the windscreen
Drinking beer, telling stories While laughter filled the night
And flexi-time’s behind you like a bad dream

You got a flat on ANZAC Highway And Lawson on your shelf
Its a Southern Comfort, air-conditioned rage
Where a homestead’s more than just a cheap print Dangling from a wall

And mateship’s more than lines upon a page

We went looking for Australia In between the TV lines
‘Cause the ABC just couldn’t make it real
Colour documentary From a beanbag on the floor:
Never shows as much as it conceals

A stark and blistered Alice Springs And a river runs with shame
And you wipe the sheets of bulldust from your eyes
Another country’s uniform And the mirage it falls apart
To the open gap between the truth and lies

 

Ivor Steven (c)  2019

Tired Little Sparrow

How do you feel, my tired little sparrow

About removing more of your back marrow

They’re waving a pointy knife

What do they know, about your resurrected life

 

Hovering high above, Devastation Hill

Perched upon Noah’s lonely window sill

Your tiny wing looks broken, It’ll have to be reset

You’ll have to wait, to see who’s going to be your vet

 

How will you become stronger

Enabling you to, land and fly longer

The wall’s rose thorns, now appear deeper and sharper

Fragile and torn apart, your roaming, will now be harder

 

Ivor Steven (c)  2019