Tag: Poetry/Australia

The Harmony Of This Man

Here is the music I was playing/listening to, while writing the poem this morning. The poem was written from a collection of notes scribbled down, depicting my dream during the night. Also, there’s another video attached below my poem

 

The Harmony Of This Man

 

I’ve spent the last two days

Printing and sorting photos from my trip

A journey, to the edge of faraway dreams

Placing today’s images, from my heart

Into this collectors photo album

I experienced tremors of joy

And I cried rivers of happy emotions

My hands will never be empty again

They shall forever carry these memories

From the enchanting land of distant families

I’ll now hold their trust in my palms

Knowing the true values of their clan

 

Early morning, I’m already playing my music

Listening to rhythmical sounds, herald the dawn

In time with the beat of my pulsating adrenaline

My erratic pencil scribbles notes

I have to write hurriedly

To capture this moments magical tone

That euphoria of my mind’s ecstasy

Moving feelings, of this life’s eventual peace

My visions achieved, now living within me

I’ve taken years to learn the harmony of this man

 

 

Ivor Steven (c)  June 2019

 

 

Time To Give A Hand

Again, thank you to “Go Dog Go Cafe” for the opportunity to post my poem, on their fabulous initiative, Promote Yourself Mondays, and especially to Gina, of ‘Singledust’, for her ongoing support of my writings…. click >> Here

Time To Give A Hand

 

Do you know this man

Small in stature, with a wavering hand

It takes a lot to know this man

In the cold, I’ve been running on wet sand

Rushing to forward money to the local charity stand

Coin I’d gathered from distant poetry lands

And the booklets that flew, over oceans and Central Park bands

Collected from generous readers, who donated to our M.S. brand

 

Heavy rain’s soaking me, and it’s bleak

I’m feeling unsteady on my freezing feet

There’s a nearby cafe to shelter out of the sleet

A warm and cosy eatery on Pakington street

Rewarding myself to a lunchtime treat

In the Red Radish Cafe, I have soup, Celery and silver-beet

Tiffany greets me, takes my coat, offers me a seat

Then I recite to her, ‘Dreams Of The Heart’, my day is replete

 

 

Ivor Steven (c)  June 2019

 

Haven’t Seen You For A While

I’m keeping the celebrations up, of my two years here on WordPress. Here’s another one of my earliest poems, which was originally written seven years ago, but first posted on my blog,  June 8th 2017.

Haven’t Seen You For A While  

 

Woke up dreaming of your petite smile.

And pondering, I haven’t seen you for a while.

That generous grin, making you so cute.

So pleasing, and so alluring, seems to suit.

Dreaming of your grace and gorgeous style.

And thinking, I haven’t seen you for a while.

The glow on your face, reminiscing sweet things.

A silky smooth body, with all it’s offerings.

Dreaming of your thighs, where the harp sings.

And sensing, I haven’t seen you for a while.

The sweat of our loving, a distant past.

‘Twas pure lust, sharing to the last.

Dreaming of your love, and more tender scenes.

And realising, I haven’t seen you for a while.

 

Please take the time to listen to Damien Rice, sing and play live, this amazing version of his song “I Remember”

 

Ivor Steven (c)  2018

Hallelujah, A Song He Played For Me

 

Hallelujah, A Song He Played For Me (Thanks Terry)

I’m relaxing here in the city square

Enjoying the simple things in life

Eating fresh fruit for lunch

Feeding the local seagulls

Watching people, passing by, going to and fro

Not everyone is stopping to see the show

Listening to my friend playing the blues

At this chilly outdoor venue

There’s others too, lazing on the wet ground

Soaking up his musical sounds

Guitar strumming, and a loud tenor voice

He’s singing Leonard’s Hallelujah, my choice

I’m emotional, but that’s me

Resting here under a winter tree

Gentle drops of rain, drizzle upon the calm

But that doesn’t dampen his enthusiasm or charm

Syd and Shirley seagull stand entranced

And the young ones are starting to dance

Ivor Steven (c) June 2019

It Was On The Tip Of My Tongue

I awoke unexpectedly

Suddenly the mind had kicked in

My cogs were grinding and searching

Seeking that lost memory inside me head

That annoying buzz has been bugging me

Teasing me about that location

That place I couldn’t remember

The name was on the tip of my tongue yesterday*

 

But recalling that name had eluded me

Three o’clock in the morning

My eyes are wide open

Old cloudy visions, are now clearing

Up there, in bright neon lights

Of course, that’s the missing name

And my brain is not dead

Answer solved, back to sleep for my head

 

  • * The name that was on the tip of my tongue was a place in Philadelphia, called the Reading Terminal Market, I’ll attach a Link here
  •  https://readingterminalmarket.org/

 

Iver Steven (c)  June 2019

Birds Of A Feather

The Midweek Word Prompt is : Humour  . Here, I’ve attempted a piece of sarcastic humour, in my poem about, the human’s unusual skin pigments.

And a big thank you To V.J. Knutson, with her poem “Even Colourless, Still A Flower”, being the source of my inspiration behind my poem today

Birds Of A Feather

 

to colour us all tanned

black or white

didn’t seem right

even a humorous sight

maybe blue and green

would’ve been a better blight

and I’ve been told orange

is a preferred skin tone

best we have more colours

I’ll go buy the paint drums

toss them together

shaken, not stirred

into one huge cocktail dish

and use a whale-hair paint brush

we’ll all be covered the same

a faded colour purple

like tarnished rain clouds

not too dark

not too proud

not too white

just bright enough

to see the light

 

Please Note: The featured image above, is called ‘Four Birds’, by an Australian artist, Patsy Anguburra Lulpunda, at the Aboriginal Art Gallery

 

Ivor Steven (c)  June 2019

This Is What Matters

My Thursday evenings, are a boys night out

As usual, we drank and chattered

Opinions on every general topic

No politics nor religion

We talk about important issues

Mainly, travel, music and sports

Lively banter, of who’s who

Any, this and thats

We know what matters

And how to save a world in tatters

 

Then I was asked about my trip

My adventures in New York

And the meeting of my cousins and their families

In the warmth of Philadelphia

Fondly, I mentioned my time there

With cousins Ken, Maureen and Terry

And of course, my special niece, Kerri

I explained how they thoroughly spoilt me

I said “Truly the best time of my life”

Slowly tears welled in my eyes

And my friends, saw the liquid joy in my heart

 

 

 

Ivor Steven (c)  2019

 

Tullawalla # 10, Dreams Of The Heart

Hello dear friends, readers and followers, again thank you all for being so supportive of my writings. Today, I’m Proud to say I’ve finished compiling my tenth Tullawalla Booklet of my Poems. I’m extremely happy with the standard of my poems in the booklet. I suppose my healthy recovery from my two Strokes, in December and January, and my subsequent glorious visit to see my loving cousins in Philadelphia,  led to the overall joyful tone in my poems…. Again if you would like to purchase my booklet “Tullawalla, Dreams Of The Heart” please contact me through my site here, and we’ll arrange payment and delivery after making contact, and all donations I receive, go to the MS Charity shop, here in Geelong. You could search for me in Facebook/Messenger, via, Ivor Steven, Rollins Rd, Bell Post Hill, Victoria, Australia. …

Below, a few photos of some pages in the Booklet

And also, what I consider my best piece of writing I’ve done for a long time

Haiku: We Lost The Sea 

Bridges of dreams crossed

The ocean and river spanned

Waters of love found

 

 

 

“Change Of Heart” Neil Young .. Lyrics

Talk to the people
They know the truth
Time don’t mean nothing
It’s the ways that you choose
To go on living inside your house
Or move a mountain, an elephant or a mouse
Instead of stayin and dying inside
Sometimes you move
Sometimes you ride awayDon’t tell no stories
Don’t tell no lies
Not even the ones you already tried
Not proud of lies
Nothing is saved
Just a road to nowhere, your name engraved
They pick up on you
As you pick up on them
Just cause they’re birds don’t mean you can’t fly
So don’t be sorry
The pastor touched my hand
Hear on the church steps
I was 9 or 10I had a change of heart
Was a change of heart
A change of heart

Life is confusing
Love is time bent
Hate is not worth using
Even as cement
To build your walls
That you hide behind
And not see over and it blows your mind
There’s hate there now
That never was
Love is waiting just because of you cause

There’s nothing sacred
A blind man said
I see your feelings inside my head
I can’t predict it, what happens next
I love a future I don’t expect
You fortune tellers
You take my hand
See what’s there, it shifts in sands

I had a change of heart
It was a change of heart
Just a change of heart

I was the ocean
Washed up here
I’m you’re emotions
I’m your fresh beard
So drink me up and laugh away
And let’s all continue another day
Maybe tomorrow our ship will come int
And we’ll set the sails for oblivion
Not so fast
Let’s not give up
Let’s not be angry
And spill the cup
Well I’m still drinking
And I’m feeling so high
My eyes are water now, let’s give it a try
Come on baby, I’m ready to rock
Give me all you’ve got
And then let’s talk

It’s a change of heart
I had a change of heart
Just a change of heart

 

Ivor Steven (c)  2019

Warm Champagne And Icy Ponds

I stand here, in a rain filled pond

Leaning against the icy wind

Glazed eyes and I shiver

My boots are stuck in the muddy river

Ankle deep, in a chilly slush

Sheet ice numbing my toes

When will they finish my lane

Tired of walking through cold drains

The tadpoles are thriving again

Multiplying with the continual rain

My clothes are wet and stained

Walking beyond the puddles is a strain

These house-bound reins feel like chains

It’s time to defrost my frozen brain

Allow my pen to write within this frigid membrane

And tell the world, about life’s warm champagne

Ivor Steven (c) 2019