Tag: Poetry/Australia

The winds of time have changed us

And poisoned the fallen petals on our beds of snugness

Life’s dreams are flooding in rivers of hard rain

Where every river ends up in oceans of choking drains

Today there’s a gale, blow wind, blow

Cover us in pure white snow

Cool off our noxious foes

Drown our secret fears and toxic woes

There’s gathering piles of angel dust

During these days of airborne distrust

Laying unnaturally on barren ground

Making us weary and feeling unsound

We’re here cowering on uncovered platforms

Waiting out this passing sandstorm

And there’ll be the winds drenching rains

Before, quietly and calmly, the rainbow glows again

Ivor Steven (c)  March 2020

Kelly’s Smile

A balmy Autumn evening

And poet’s words are unveiling

Over twenty wordsmith recitals

Here within the poetry group’s citadel

Black Veil, White Veil, is the allotted theme

A topic of intriguing extremes

Encouraging opposing moonbeams

From the writers imaginative dreams

After the entertaining poetry event

I stroll across to the music bar I frequent

And I hear a singer’s voice extraordinaire

Kelly has a genuine smile, and is a storyteller with flare

Eventually my exciting night, becomes tired embers

And I meet up with fellow poetry group members

The friendly Jeff and Stephanie and there’s happy hugs all-round

Kindly they offer me a lift, and I’m homeward bound

Below Left: Me & Kelly               Below Right: Stephanie & Jeff, back at my place

Ivor Steven (c)  March 2020

Goodbye Yorkie, Hello Phillie

Today I returned Yorkie to his owner

He’s been here for fifteen months

And what an interesting time we weathered

Here on guard, under my verandah

He’s seen all of my downs and ups

Helping  with those unsteady recovery steps

Nursing my body through the hurtful setbacks

And assisting this damaged mind to stay focused

Yesterday, was our last exercise session together

I shall miss our silent conversations

Daily, I would be chatting away to him

And stoically he stood, quietly listening

But as the saying goes

Out with the old and in with the new

I’ve been kindly donated a replacement for Yorkie

“She” will be on my verandah tomorrow

In time for my Philadelphia cousin’s visit next month

And I think I’ll name her “Phillie”

Ivor Steven (c)  March 2020

This Saturday the Weekly Prompts challenge is: HATS. Please go over and visit “Weekly Prompts” fabulous site by clicking >>HERE ... And my poem here, is scrappy piece, about my attempt to go on an Easter trip…. 

Jingle Jangle for My Easter Bonnet

My notebook’s running on empty

There’s pages of invisible words

And blue lines are leaping forward

Leaving my empty threads behind

I’ve empty pockets

Lined with holey socks

And my empire’s purse

Is loosely tied to my Easter bonnet

How am I going to fly?

Without costly wings

I’ve not even a jingle jangle

Of silver change

And my dream’s destination

Now seems out of range

But I don’t need to travel too far

To reach my Easter bar

Ivor Steven (c)  March 2020

Today’s poem is a rewrite of a piece original called “Living On a Knife Edge”. This poem was one of two, that I submitted to be published, but the other poem was accepted ahead of this piece, and so readers I’m posting this rewritten poem for you to peruse today…..

Living On a Wooden Bridge

Fire, fire, there’s raging fires

I need help to stamp out the flames

Burning down this old timber bridge

A traveler’s last causeway to the edge

Carrying today’s harsh realities

Spanning a lifetime dreams and fantasies

Rain, rain, there’s a Noah’s flood

I need help to stop the cascading suds

Fill the sandbags with riverbed mud

Smother the leakages with woolly rugs

Ring out the qualms and doubts

And refuse doctor’s drugs and handouts

Warning, warning, outside there’s a heatwave

I need help to see through the dusty haze

Douse the fiery furnace tonight

Close the doors, the fireflies are alight

Open your eyes, and view the glowing sights

And cross the bridge into life’s future delights

Ivor Steven (c)  March 2020

This a very old poem that I posted on ‘Go Dog Go Cafe’ yesterday’s ‘Throwback Friday’, and I’m posting again here on my site for you to read…

Leftover Dew

I know I’m far from perfect.

I make awful mistakes.

I know I’m overly loud.

I dominate and crowd.

I do have a big heart.

A soul so soft.

I do love to hold and to kiss.

To cuddle and caress.

I feel your reluctance.

Your barrier fence.

I feel like a fog over you.

Like the morning dew.

Will you ever need another?

Or love another.

Will you ever let me remain.?

Or look for me again.

“The Hosting Of The Shee”, Lyrics by The Waterboys

Ivor Steven (c)  Sept 2016

The persistent rain, drizzling all week

The misty drops playing a gentle tune on our roof

Reminding our souls, how we exist softly meek

Remembering souls we’ve lost, we the leftover proof

The hovering clouds, hide thoughts of yesterday

The lifting fog, delivers today’s golden sunbeams

Reminding our hearts, why we love, why we stay

Remembering our every heartbeat, within every dream

Ivor Steven (c)  Feb 2020

Jigsaw, A Thousand Pieces

Life can be a giant jigsaw turntable

The jumbled picture of a unique fable

Connected by shared oblique faces

Made up of a thousand little pieces

That have run a thousand different races

Curving around thousands of warm embraces

Thousands of handshakes and well wishes

Thousands of hello and goodbye kisses

Thousands of friendly smiles

Thousands of ups and downs along bumpy miles

Thousands of grieving fears

Thousands of emotional tears

Thousands of tears we do weep

Thousands of kisses go deep

Accepting patience and persistence

Gradually pieces start falling into place

Time heals those missing ones in grace

And finally the jigsaw falls into place

Ivor Steven (c)  Feb 2020