This Fence (2001)

“This Fence” is a poem I posted on my Site when I first began blogging in June/July 2017, however I originally wrote the piece back in 2001, when I was recovering from my first stroke in Sept’ 2000 … My words from 22 years ago seem be applicable today, as I start my recovery program from this week’s diabetes diagnosis…


This Fence


I am quickly nearing this fence.

An obstacle of a lifetime I see.

And from my side of this fence,

The hurdle is too high for me.

And on the other side of this fence,

There seems nowhere to land or flee.


I have arrived at this fence,

Above the pickets, just grey sky.

And on my side of this fence,

The grass is brown and dry.

On the other side of this fence,

The grass is green, but still I cry.

How am I to clear this fence,

There seems nowhere to go or get by.


This fence, all built of stones,

Breaks my spirit, and all my bones.




Ivor Steven (c) November 2023

Willpower? (a Tanka)

Dear readers, especially those who frequent my site, you may have notice during the last several months, I have often mention in my poems, that I am very tired … today, after numerous blood tests and what nots, I have been officially diagnosed with “Diabetes”

Late evening, the sun sets, early morning, the sun rises again …



Willpower? (a Tanka)




“Why am I so tired?

What’s the diagnosis Doc?

You’ve diabetes!

That is not good Doc, now what?

Don’t fret, you’ve the will to cope”








Ivor Steven (c) November 2023

Flying Bricks of War (again)

I am posting this poem “again” … there is War “again” … more innocent lives will be “Lost”
Over at Weekly Prompts, the Weekend Challenge is the word, Lost … please visit their fabulous site by clicking on >> Here

Featured Image Above: Gaza Strip border, Kibbutz Netiv Ha’Asara, Israel © Kai Wiendenhofer



Flying Bricks of War


There is a divisive brick wall

That stands harsh and tall

To stop people from breaking their fall


Then the leaders in ivory towers

Ceased talking about peace and flowers

And hurled bricks into that sandy strip

One brick after another brick

Flew from one side to the other

Smashing innocent children and mothers


Flying bricks crumbling into dust

Creating dirty clouds of mistrust


The walls of Babylon fell again

As brick upon brick crushed human brains


Brick upon brick filled the bloody drains

Brick upon brick killed and maimed







Ivor Steven (c) October 2023

Throwback Friday, Crooked Ways (Revision #2)

I originally wrote this poem in January 2019, here today I have revised the piece for a second time.




Crooked Ways (Revision #2)



I’m not to be told, how to live my life

It’s been over a decade since having lost my wife

I’m not a great philosopher

Nor a modern fashion writer

I’m not a sprightly young surfer

Never clever enough to be bursar

Too old to be a toiling plumber

And these days I prefer to pen poetry

Some say you are never too old

Whatever, I shall always be bold

With my plans to reach for the stars

And continue to travel my crooked ways






Ivor Steven (c) October 2023

Cyberspace and Melted Digitals (revised #2)

I’ve been having computer problems for over a month and appropriately I have dug up this old poem and revised it … However, some good news today, my brother said that the computer is fixable and he has started the refurbishment process

Cyberspace and Melted Digitals


This crazy, distorted cyberspace

Can be a dishonest place

Like talking to aliens from outer space

False profiles with no trace


I dislike the blank screen’s cool embrace

Documents unreadable at the coalface

As if they’re hiding from the human race

Or that grand theft of the writer’s database


I’d like to tie together their ” Boot” laces

See them tumble and fall from grace

Straight down the duck-muck-covered staircase

And melt all their digital’s in the fireplace







Ivor Steven (c) October 2023

Anti-Rust

Over at Weekly Prompts the Wednesday Challenge word is: Time . To visit their fabulous site, please click on >> Here … my poem “Anti-Rust” spans twenty-three years of “Time”…


Anti-Rust


Twenty-three years have gone

Since I suffered my first stroke

I remember being cold and scared

I awoke the next day in hospital

Feeling like my limbs were full of rust

And my confused mind

Was locked inside a sleepwalking man

Disorientated and not to be trusted


Twenty-three years on

And two more strokes later

My body is still full of rust

But with the wonders of modern medicine

And some plucky self determination

I have recovered my cognitive abilities

And with the aid of anti-rust drugs

I am active enough to type up my canny poems





The Rust, Sivert Hoyem . Lyrics

Twenty hours he is gone
Another time she’s waiting for him
When he comes home
He’s in terrible state
He’s just sitting there by the window
With his hate

A rusty bathtub in the garden
Seven cars are in the yard
And only one that is running
Life is spout??? in the wilderness
But in his heart

It’s not a place for new beginnings
Everything you make make just falls apart

Sometimes she thinks
It’s the rust that eats the soul
In the winter time the sky is burning
Purple orange and gold

So one night like any other
She takes her bags out to the car
She passes a minute
Then she starts down the road
You can get anywhere
On the full tank of fuel
And on an empty heart

It’s not a place for new beginnings
Everything you make just falls apart
The house neglected and forbidden
???
???

Just thinking about it breaks your heart
???? from the ceiling
??? burning stars
So decay and the rust that eats the soul
The winter sky burns eternally
But people come and people go





Ivor Steven (c) October 2023

Spiraling

Happy 47th Anniversary Carole… my sky is still blue and I am still lingering here without you …

Spiraling

I look

upward

near and far

on spiraling

warm air

a white petal

fluttering

like a dove

between

here and heaven

hovering

on a cloud of love

there

waving

from above

my angel

forever

faithful

I wave

“oh, my love,

aren’t you tired yet?”




Spiraling, Appears in my book “Tullawalla” as the ‘Dedication’ poem to my late wife, Carole









Ivor Steven (c) Sept 2023

Do Not Be Silent (a Senryu)

A big thank you to ‘Eugi’ from “Moonwashed Musings”, with her post “Listen But Hear The Truth”, for inspiring me to write this ‘Senryu’… You may visit her wonderful site via this link >> https://amanpan.blog/2023/08/31/listen-but-hear-the-truth/




Do Not Be Silent (a Senryu)


I’m aged and fading

I listen but do not see

I see but don’t speak









Tullawalla is Available From

Jaymah Press:https://www.jaymahpress.com.au/

Ivor Steven: email, ivorrs20@gmail.com

Amazon: search via, ‘Tullawalla by Ivor Steven’


AND
Perceptions is Now Available via:


Amazon: https://amzn.asia/d/4yFHWrT

Jaymah Press: https://www.jaymahpress.com.au/

Lulu Books: https://www.lulu.com/shop/ivor-steven-and-derrick-knight/perceptions/hardcover/product-2pwqe4.html?q=Perceptions+by+Ivor+Steven&page=1&pageSize=4

OR: email me directly for a signed copy – ivorrs20@gmail.com  



Ivor Steven (c) September 2023

A Half-Withered Water-Reed, is in this Week’s Coffee House Writers Magazine

Hello dear readers and followers, I am now writing for “Coffee House Writers” magazine on a fortnightly basis, and my poem “A Half-Wither Water-Reed”, is in this week’s edition of Coffee House Writers Magazine. … please click on the link below to view my poem, at Coffee House Writers Magazine. >> https://coffeehousewriters.com/a-half-withered-water-reed/







Ivor Steven © August 2023

Throwback Friday, Taking Shape

Today I am presenting another poem that will be appearing in my new book “Until Eyes Hear Sound”. I wrote ‘Taking Shape’ in December 2020, and the poem will be the opening piece in Chapter 8. Poetry in Slow Motion. And ironically the day after my 72nd birthday, the poem is quite appropriate …




Taking Shape


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 ©  July 2023