me and my shadow
are searching for tomorrow
despite decades of sorrow
there is no time left to borrow
I hope there is someone to take care of me
set my spirit free
among nature’s ancient trustees
maybe they will let my soul flow into the sea
but please stop, and count to three
before all your axes fell all our trees
Ivor Steven (c) January 2022
in my hazy bedroom
it is unexplainable
what I say to the moon
and there is that secret
unknowable connection
an unmistakable tune
received in an echoing response
from my unattainable moon
Ivor Steven (c) January 2022
I missed out on the dawn sky
morning did pass me by
daylight grew wings and learnt to fly
my horizon fades out of sight
and twilight will turn into night
before I begin to write
Ivor Steven (c) January 2022
I am a tiring old writer
like a punch-drunk fighter
who buckled and fell
before the round eleven bell
lying flat on the bloody canvas
wishing I were ambidextrous
like the incredible Emily Dickison
(Oh, she must have been!)
and have I more stories in my subconscious?
ring the bell for round twelve
I am in the corner, blindly courageous
sitting here within my dizziness
waiting for the new world to stop being carnivorous
Ivor Steven (c) January 2022
Hello dear readers and followers, as you may know, I now write for “Coffee House Writers” magazine on a fortnightly basis, and my poem “Water-wrinkled Hands And Sand Between My Toes”, 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/water-wrinkled-hands/
Ivor Steven (c) January 2022
Here in Geelong we are going through an extended warm/hot spell, of some 20 days in a row of the temperature being over 30’C … and this a poem I wrote 3 years on January 25th, so appropriately the poem gets replay today …
Hotter Than Helios
Today is hotter than hot
This town’s a living melting pot
You could fry an egg without a cook-top
I won’t be taking Yorkie for a trot
My body’s losing the plot
Waiting for my aorta’s mystery clots
My writing’s burnt out, on Helios hill
Leaving an arid inkwell, holding a dry quill
Despite the heat, an exercise session I’ll do, It’s my will
To continue with this daily drill
No excuses, to lose sight of spring’s daffodil
Working out, like I’m an old grinding flour-mill
Even if I’m over-baked, like Sunday’s hot roast
For her, I’ll take life’s chances to the utmost
Featured Image: From Bing Images, numrush.nl
Ivor Steven (c) 2019
Above Images: My doggie Frankie, on his early morning walkie.
Before The Bell Rings
I am changing my daily routine
Now summer is in full swing
Hot like a fiery lantern
Before the breakfast bell rings
I will leave early and go walking
With doggie in tow, happily prancing
We will bathe in golden sunrises
Under the cobalt blue skies
Adorned with white cirrus stripes
Ivor Steven (c) January 2022
Feature Image Above: A watercolour painting by Carole Steven.
Dust and Rain
Life eventually returns to dust
Think me morbid if you must
Funerals do that to me
Eulogies sting me like a bee
That gentle bite numbed my mind
To that sea of blurry faces, sincere and kind
My selfless tears did drown
In memories of pain
Of her being lowered down
On that day when I could not stop the rain
Ivor Steven (c) January 2022
My Gallery (a Haiku)
Her craft-work shines on
Overseeing our dream times
In my world of rhyme
Ivor Steven (c) January 2022
Please Note: The Idyll winery estate, located in the picturesque Moorabool Valley area, is only 15 km from my front door, and are well renowned for their award winner Cabernet Sauvignon blends … 2021 – New York International Wine Competition – Idyll Victoria Cabernet Sauvignon – Gold
Waiting In Line
lazing in a valley of vines
under the summer sunshine
with a bottle of Idyll wine
drank in no time
dandy and sublime
heeds no rhyme
beyond an imaginary climb
along the river of time
that awaits a final line
after life’s closing pantomime
Ivor Steven (c) January 2022
Ivor.Plumber/Poet 