Tag: Poetry/Australia

Gazing At The Amazing

 

Gazing At The Amazing

 

Thor startles me out of slumber

And I’m sheltering under my verandah

Sitting here naked as the day I was born

Gazing at the amazing weeping dawn

Crying a bucket full of raindrops

Spreading sparkles with every  wet plop

On the roof I hear a cascade from above

Big puddles are shimmering like leather gloves

Growing into a groundswell of high humidity

Soaking my body in sweaty liquidity

Then softly a caressing breeze cools my skin

While the courtyard garden’s sprouting wings

Nature’s evidence of the night’s heavy rain

And the heaven’s are opening up again

 

 

Ivor Steven  (c)  Jan 2020

 

Alex

 

Alex

 

My trusty guardian

Shamefully

I’ve taken him for granted

That happy old chap

Who faithfully

Protects me

 

A loyal family friend

He’s always been around

Like an inherited heirloom

His age remains a mystery

He’s stoic and quietly stern

And I dare not ask him

 

The eternal keeper

Of our ancestral tree

Holder of heavens keys

Guarding life’s comings a goings

Waiting there, under shady leaves

Forever our courtyard centurion

 

 

Ivor Steven (c)  Jan 2020

 

What Is Your Name

The midweek Word/Photo Challenge is on the concept of HOME CRAFTS. Please go over and visit their fabulous site, “Weekly Prompts”, by clicking >> HERE

Today I have chosen my recent home hobby, of growing succulents in pots, and below is my interesting abstract poem, “What Is Your Name”…. Here-in lies my problem, I do not know any of their names… So below, I have number the plants 1. to 10.  , and if there is any keen gardeners out there, that know their succulents, I would really appreciate your feedback…..starting with the plant in the featured image above….

Plant 1.                                               Plant 2.

Plant 3.                                                Plant 4.

Plant 5.                                             Plant 6.

 

Plant 7.                                              Plant 8.

Plant 9.                                                                          Plant 10.

 

 

What Is Your Name 

 

Oh, my darling young one

Your skin, so silky smooth

Oh, what is your name

Your pastel tones, so divine

Oh, will you stand here beside me

Your internal beauty captures my heart

Oh, my house is your home

Your eternal life, would grow and blossom

Oh, will my nurturing expose your soft soul

Your exquisite flower, a lovers reward

 

 

Ivor Steven (c)  Jan 2020

I handed Her My Card

I Handed Her My Card

 

I had lunch at the office

That is, the Box Office Cafe

My favourite local eatery

I enjoyed a tasty Vietnamese salad

Then I took some photos on my camera-phone

Trying to capture the venues’ rustic atmosphere

Leafy plants in pots and hanging baskets

And there’s abstract paintings on display

Along side artworks painted directly onto the walls

All enhancing the Cafe’s peaceful aura

 

In front of the wine collection’s shelves

There’s a large table of magazines

Where my ‘Tullawalla Booklets’ lay for patrons to read

And as is my way, I started up a conversation

And there was a young lady at the adjacent table

Her name was Katie, and coincidently

She knew about the ‘Lowercase’ poetry group

I told her when and where, they were to next meet

Then she intimated she might attend the recital night

With a friendly smile, I handed her my poetry card

 

PS: Surprise, surprise, here I am back a the Box Office Cafe for breakfast, on Saturday morning, of the Australia Day, long weekend. I don’t often go out for breakfast, but the weather is perfect, and I’ve earned myself a treat this week. Below a couple of pic’s of my fabulous breakfast.

 

Ivor Steven (c) Jan 2020

Here Comes The Rain

 

 

Here Comes The Rain

 

The dawn’s dark rain-clouds

Of hovering graceful greys

Are cascading their silver linings

And the falling rain sparkles

Lighting up the morning sky

Resonating nature’s sounds

Heaven’s musical crescendo

The sweetest of all musical notes

A drumming of heavy raindrops

Dancing on the ground

And as the awakening rains

Come tumbling down

The torrents of regenerating waters

Are now crying rivers through burning trees

 

 

Ivor Steven (c)  Jan 2020

Waiting (Revised)

Hello readers and followers, this is poem I posted 3 weeks ago, but today I’ve revised some words and the format. I read this poem to my poetry group on Sunday, and after the usual discussion the group suggested some subtle changes, to give my piece an even more powerful punch….. and after swapping things around a little, this is my revised poem…. with sincere thanks to members of my wonderful poetry group…..below I’ve attached a photo of the original poem….

Waiting

 

The earth is waiting

Sick of humans stalling

And their time wasting

They know it’s time

 

Waiting for their promised cheers

Waiting for less destructive years

Will they give her resolutions

Of better times ahead

Will they finally read

Thor’s neon signs

Will they notice

A smoke covered sun

Will they be able to breathe the air

As a united one

 

The earth cannot watch

Nor wait

While humans

Fill their own greedy plates

 

Why are they celebrating?

Like blind fools, that are always pretending

As if nothing is going wrong

They can hear the whales crying songs

They can see the polar caps are melting

They can taste the venom of government’s lying

img517 (2)

In the following video/song, if you could metaphorically place earth and human’s between the lyrics, you might understand why I chose this song by Damien Rice..

 

 

Ivor Steven (c)  Jan 2020

Unsteady Quill

Below an overcast sky

A crack appears in my cloud of guilt

This widening chasm darkened

Distorting the edges of distant memories

 

A dear friend, passed away, last week

I didn’t get to say goodbye

His funeral, was private

And I need to send a condolence card

 

For these seven days of my life

The card has stayed on my table

I’m trying to write to his bereaved wife

But my hand’s unsteady and not able

 

I’m yet to put pen to card

I’m yet to allow myself to cry hard

I’m yet to push myself to go an extra yard

Now, I must get my head out of these clouds

Lift my quill, for a mate, who was brave and proud

 

Ivor Steven (c)  Jan 2020