Tag: Poetry/Australia

Throwback Friday, Waiting Time, by Ivor Steven

Readers who follow my blog site would know that I attended an Ekphrastic Poetry Workshop during the week, and my poem here today is from a previous Ekphrastic workshop that I went to, in September 2018

ivor20's avatarGo Dog Go Café

Readers who follow my blog site would know that I attended an Ekphrastic Poetry Workshop during the week, and my poem here today is from a previous Ekphrastic workshop that I went to, in September 2018

Above is the Chapbook published by Geelong Writers, and the magnificent painting by Graeme Altmann, that inspired my poem ‘Waiting Time’

Waiting Time

I’m a time-traveler on a mission

Waiting for a personal vision

An image of my father’s ghost

To appear above the white-water coast

Millenniums ago, I delivered him to the ocean

Threw his ashes across the horizon

Away from faceless time-clocks

Away from hidden jagged rocks

Now I see him, proudly standing afloat

Wondering, who’s left to row the boat

Waiting for the breeze, without a sail

Seeking his passage through soundless hail

Beyond tumbling waves, a prism of light

Waiting stops, his alien spirit soars tonight

Ivor Steven (c) Sept…

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A Banner Of Sunflowers

Continuing on from yesterday’s Ekphrastic poetry workshop, here is my poetic response to Shirley Drayton’s creative piece of textile artwork “Golden Sunflowers”

A Banner Of Sunflowers


look!

up there

above the War’s

darkest clouds

there is a blue banner

embroided with sunflowers

swaying

through a hole

in the eastern sky


bearing a message

of ‘Hello’

or is it ‘Goodbye’?

a sweeping reminder

from our Ancestors

“we feel your suffering and pain

from the merciless hard rain

blood filled rivers and cratered plains

smoke filled skylines and cracked windowpanes”


“however, we also know

beyond the broken horizon

the sunflower seeds of hope

will germinate again

and future seeds for peace

will regenerate a new campaign“






Ivor Steven (c) May 2022

Back On The Tools

Sorry reader and followers for my lack of blogging today (and tomorrow) … The old poet traded his quill in this morning (and again tomorrow), for his old rusty spanner and diirty hammer ..




Back On The Tools. (adapted from “An Old-time Plumber”)


Could I actually do the task?

Am I physically strong enough?

Am I mentally sharp and stable enough?

To endure two days of hard work?


Surprise, surprise, I survived day one

Job nearly completed and clients suitably pleased

And I am home enjoying a red wine

Although when I finished it was almost dark

And my back was stiff as red-gum bark

But a job stamped by my old-time quality trademark



Under The Snow

A special poem I wrote, after I’d taken my Lady to hospital for the last time, on the day of her 65th birthday. ten years ago. Hello Carole, and I wonder if you still wonder that I wonder, wishing upon your celestial star…….


Under The Snow.


We emanate to a birthday.

We deflate to a final day.

Birthdays, they all come, they all go.

Birthdays, in the sunshine, under the snow.

Birthdays, slow to mature, quickly an aeon.

Birthdays, before we are born, after we are gone.

Birthdays, hanging on by a breath.

Birthdays, nailed to a cross ’til death.

What’s it all mean to be alive and cry.

What’s it all mean to live and to die.





Ivor Steven. (c)  May 2022

Horses, Lizards, and Hummingbird Cake




Horses, Lizards, and Hummingbird Cake


Dreaming

With eyes wide open

I rejoice

Beyond, earth, sky,

Moon, sun, and stars


Here today

With eyes open wider

I rejoice

In my surroundings

Dogs, horses,

Lizards, and birds


With eyes smiling

I rejoice

In life’s foolish moments

Chocolates, coffee,

And a hummingbird cake






Ivor Steven (c) May 4th 2022

Life is a Bowl of Fudge, is up at Coffee House Writers Magazine

Hello dear readers and followers, as you may know, I now write for “Coffee House Writers” magazine on a fortnightly basis, and my poem “Life is a Bowl of Fudge”, is in this weeks edition of Coffee House Writers Magazine. … please click on the link below to read my poem, at Coffee House Writers >> https://coffeehousewriters.com/life-is-a-bowl-of-fudge/






Ivor Steven (c) May 3rd 2022

Today’s Fragments

Below; I have formed one poem out of four Haiku that I wrote this morning, and I have many fractured thoughts within my soul today, a decade after Carole’s passing on May 3rd 2012 at 1.15pm …

Today’s Fragments
(A four Haiku poem)



I am who I am
I can’t use another tram 
She’s my hologram

I sit beside her 
Next to yesterday’s campfire 
Candles in the wind 

A red flame flickers 
Under her celestial star 
My eternal light  

On my island home 
Winds blow from across the sea 
Completion awaits 






Ivor Steven (c) May 3rd 2022

‘Til Death Do Us Part

Back on the 2nd of May 2012, I thought this poem was going to be the last piece I would ever write … finality for my wife was near, and my mind was adrift on the horizon. … little did I know, that in few months time, her spirit and enthusiasm for life, would become the inspirational source for the revival of my poetry writings, and now a decade later “Carole’s” amazing zest for life, still influences my every thought behind the words I write …

‘Til Death Do Us Part


She’s there, in that tall pale building of brick.

Where the Nightingales care and tend to the sick.

She’s there, away from home and her comforting bed.

Where the Doctors try to fix the endless ills from her head.


She’s there, and her absence reminds me of future plights.

Where my anxieties for her her well being endure her fight.

She’s there, and I need to visit her all day, and every night.

Where the distance to reach her soul is out of sight.


She’s there, and I’m wondering about that far away dome.

Where her lost personal affection would leave her all alone.

She’s there, in those misty clouds, with church bells ringing.

Where she’s near to the sombre sounds of angels singing.


She’s there, and her constant pain remains tight in my heart.

Now I’m convinced, just like I said at the very start.

There’s no place like home for her gathering dark.

And I promise to her again, ‘til death do us part.






Ivor Steven (c) May 2nd 2022