Tag: Poetry/Australia

Hidden Stories

A few years ago, I was fortunate to have a girlfriend called Sue

This morning I was listening to this tune on YouTube

And I thought, isn’t life intriguing, how songs can trigger our memories

The happy and sad times, of many hidden stories

I’ve always been a respectful man, and in my mind, the secrets will stay

And I’ll continue on my way, with a smile in my heart, remembering the good days

The song by “Dirty Three”, featuring Warren Ellis on violin…… and Warren is the violinist for Nick Cave’s backing band “The Bad Seeds”…..enjoy….

Ivor Steven (c) October 2019

Water-logged Boots

Yes, I am small in this overburdened world

But I flutter freely when unfurled

I could be a family picture collage

Or a tiny squirrel amongst the foliage

On his journey, of ups and downs

Collecting and storing his acorn crowns

 

The trick is to enjoy the ups

While the floodgates are shut

Sometimes, I did nearly drown

Other times, I floated upside down

 

During the many seasonal rains

I wondered, if I’d every swim again

So then, I pretended to write a biblical book

Ignorantly thinking no-one would ever look

 

Afterwards, I thought I could walk on water

Then my boots became water-logged

And if you need to walk a mile in my shoes

You’ll have to learn how to swim, and sing the blues

 

Ivor Steven (c)  October 2019

 

Our Last Stand

Walking barren pastures of sand

With only detergent hands

Old arms are empty of nature’s seeds

I only see, future investment greed

And history’s lessons, are hard to understand

When we’re taught, disrespect by corporate bands

Who only extinguish life, and fracture our lands

Instead of regenerating our planet’s, last stand

 

Ivor Steven (c)  October 2019

The Last Chicane

 

 

The Last Chicane

 

I’ve been climbing every rung

Even the broken ones unsung

I’ve played every sad song

Even when the words were wrong

 

I felt my bird fly away

Even though her nest stays here today

I’ve praised my swan’s eternal flight

Even through the hardest fights

 

I’m listening to the bells chiming

Even above lyrics that aren’t rhyming

I’m beginning to flutter my wings again

Even after missing the last chicane

I’m preparing for the next equestrian

Even tasting potions of bubbling champagne

 

Ivor Steven (c)  October 2019

A Smooth Lake Of Tears

After months of anxieties and tears

Today was softened, on a smooth lake of old fears

The specialist report was stable

Grey clouds settled under his table

Obvious scars inside the head

Were idle seeds in the garden shed

Life is allowed to continue, cautiously

Back to a normal daily odyssey

Writing about cosmology and ideology

As battology turns a page on neurology

 

 

Ivor Steven (c)  October 2019

 

My Kite And Bike

Another older poem from last year, and quaintly appropriate for this historical gold-mining town of Ballarat

My Kite And Bike 

Here I am in this ancient town

Climbing the local mystical Blue Mountains

Standing in the world’s greenest paddock

Flying my yellow and purple kite

On that old magical golden thread

My kite is soaring higher and higher

Towards our planet’s crimson sky

A sky covered by the clouds rainbow hues

Creamy clouds, opaque, thick and soft

Powerful and solid grey, hovering aloft

Where pristine snowflakes abound

All bright and shiny white

Heavy enough to ride my silver bike on

Peddle my way through today’s slippery black-ice

And wallow in the colourful heights of tomorrow

 

Ivor Steven (c)  2019

Not Here Nor There

I’m feeling a bit older this morning after last night’s party!! , so here’s an older poem I’m reposting…

Not Here Nor There

My time is slowly passing.

Age is creeping, not lasting.

I’m frail and growing older.

My body shivers when it’s colder.

And sweats like hell, in the heat.

My mind is feeble and weak.

I don’t seem to remember.

Whether it’s March, April, or September.

Here I sit, what am I doing.

There I look, where am I going.

There I ask, what’s for tea my dear.

Oh, I forgot, she’s not here.

Well best I retire to bed.

And wrest this weary head.

Under a linen sheet, like a hood.

Laying here, on this piece of wood.

Ivor Steven (c) October 2019

Spoil Me, (With Apologies To David Redpath)

Featured Image Above: The Box Office Cafe, kitchen, which is made from an old shipping container.

 

 

 

 

Spoil Me, (With Apologies To David Redpath)

 

Sorry David, but here I am again

At West Geelong’s, Box Office Cafe

Spoiling myself, for Saturday lunch

Geelong’s own version, of ‘Go Dog Go Cafe’

Where owners and their furry pals all meet

Chatting and barking, one social togetherness

And yes, I get to give the doggies, pats and hugs

There’s Bronson, the well behaved little Pug

Duke, a very young Dalmatian, he’s going to be a big boy

And another Duke, a striking auburn Labrador

 

Sorry David, I’m going to describe my feast now

Firstly, a real Aussie cappuccino coffee

Followed by Bao Buns, with slow cooked pork

A sweet and sour glaze, and fresh herbs

With cucumber, pickled carrot, fried shallots

Complimented by a delicate Gochujang mayonnaise

Then of course, I had to have a delicious cake

David, I couldn’t resist, a Berry Velvet teacake

Leaving me no option, but to wash it all down

With one of those politically incorrect, Blackman’s lagers

Cheers everyone, I’ll be on holiday, in Ballarat this week

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ivor Steven (c)  October 2019

On The Wings Of A Dove

On The Wins Of A Dove 

 

How do I write to you

With these tears blurring my sight

Five months since my heart left your home

Your hot summer has been and gone

Oh, to be beside you

To hold your warm hand

 

You may hear my chest beating

Echoing, from over there

The rumbling is not a broken ache

More that of a loving heavy throb

A longing, pumping thump

Oh, to be beside you again

 

To see your adoring smile

I miss our knowing talks

Me, reciting to you

With that sparkle in your eyes

Oh. to be beside you still

So, I send you this letter

On the wings of a dove

I miss our united love

 

Ivor Steven (c) October 2019