Cheesecake And A Hungry Magpie

I’m out walking with Monty

We’re at the Moorabool Valley Cafe

A rural atmosphere, a relaxing place for me

Lunchtime, coffee and cake

Yes, a tasty sweet berry cheesecake

We’re sitting at an outdoor table

A shady tree-lined patio area

Then suddenly, a magpie lands

He’s a cheeky and hungry bird

And a food thief, if you’re not watching

Monty the guard-dog, just sits there

Watching, not a warning bark to be heard.

Time for us to walk back home

The Cafe is part of a horse agistment farm

We’re strolling past horse paddocks

Monty is fascinated by a nearby horse

He tugs me over , to have a closer look

At close quarters, both stand and stare at each other

I suppose Monty thinks the horse is a big dog

And the horse thinks Monty is a small pony

Wouldn’t the world be a beautiful place

Beholding others at face value, without prejudice

Above Photos: The Cafe, outdoor patio area, and the magpie in centre photo.

Above Photos: Monty and the horse.

Above Photos: The berry cheesecake, a piece of strawberry chocolate I bought at the Cafe, and the hungry magpie

Monty, The White Knight

I’m Doggie minding again. This time I’m looking after the gorgeous Monty, for friends Martin and Jacqui. He’s a bundle of joy, no trouble and a pleasure to have here.

He’s a White Knight

Sleeps like a log all-night

Silently guarding the house

Quiet as a mouse

Yes ! he’s taken over my bed

Beside me at the bed-head

Listening to Leonard Cohen

As if he’s always known

He has a long waggy tail

With a curly coat, his warm veil

A round friendly face

Eye’s that plead for your embrace

A Letter To Hydra

I dreamed of sending a letter to Greece

To Hydra, an island paradise

Where sunshine basks on clearness in the air

Shimmering upon old white villa’s at the water’s edge

Memories flood me, of a poet extraordinaire

A handsome man, leaning on his writing ledge

Composing timeless words

Legends now, we’ve all heard

The sound of his golden voice

The strumming of his distinctive guitar music

My heart would pump out tears of joy

My soul would bathe in rhythmic jubilee’s

His lyrics would deeply resonate around me

His messages were poignant, clear to see

Massaging my tortured thoughts, to be true and free

Guiding my arduous life through turbulent seas

My mentor

My saviour

A Tower Of Song, in heaven

Since 2016 November Seven

Bedroom Fireplace

Thank you to Gina of, Singledust, for introducing me to a Pantun, style of poetry this morning.

Pantun :

In its most basic form the pantun consists of a quatrain which employs an abab rhyme scheme. A pantun is traditionally recited according to a fixed rhythm and as a rule of thumb, in order not to deviate from the rhythm, every line should contain between eight and 12 syllables. “The pantun is a four-lined verse consisting of alternating, roughly rhyming lines. The first and second lines sometimes appear completely disconnected in meaning from the third and fourth, but there is almost invariably a link of some sort. Whether it be a mere association of ideas, or of feeling, expressed through assonance or through the faintest nuance of a thought, it is nearly always traceable” (Sim)

I’m not quite sure whether I’ve written the format correctly, but here is my first Pantun. I think I’m a bit light on in the syllable count.

Featured Image: Above, Jing’an Sculpture Park.

Bedroom Fireplace

Oh wondrous lounge-room fire-place

Your winter-time sparkling crackle

Glows upon our old desire’s embrace

Reciting words of lust, beyond our burnt shackles

Oh wondrous bed-room fire-place

Your winter-time warming flame

Narrates tales of our revere and grace

Flickering words of love, beyond our given time

Spark Of The Heart lyrics, Redgum

Album: Frontline

It’s a harsh dry land, breaks your back and scars and gnarls your hands
Now carcasses rot in the sun and dusk silts up the dams
Sacked two men when the postie poked those bluies through the fly screen door
The welfare state dried up ten years before

Its Hobson’s choice, they run this plane flocks melt into bone
You can drove the stock routes for a year and cripple life at home
Still look forward to every day but every days the same
You Wake in a sweat dream of the smell of rain

But a river runs solid runs deep
I work this land it grips me by my feet
Staying until my blood runs cold
Spark of the heart
I’m in soul

My great grandfather pushed his luck beyond the Goutre Line
Now all that’s left are new cloud shears and a gravestone walked with lime
In tribute I still use his Swiss barometer in vain
Lake be damned, the weather hasn’t changed

Fifty miles by river land this pasture fenced and sprayed
Profit margins [chime] and graphed at boardrooms in LA
Absenting landlords meet to match their smiles and fake suntans
In three years they’ll have bleached the soil to sand

But a river runs solid runs deep
I work this land it grips me by my feet
Staying until my blood runs cold
Spark of the heart
I’m in soul

Jocie searches salt bush where rain once ran its course
It’s a shock to see a child of twelve grow old upon a horse
The glory box lies locked with memories silent as the phone
Even in the shadows it’s our home
Government relief just might keep breeding stock alive
The agents jump the cost of feed and the export markets dive
And if it rains I’m still in debt until I’m ninety-eight
Will the last one out please shut the bloody gate

On the news it seems unreal
Floods in Cairns the cities just can’t feel
Survivals a story untold
Spark of the heart
I’m in soul

But a river runs solid runs deep I love this land it grips me by my feet
Staying until my blood runs cold
Spark of the heart
I’m in soul

Sage Bush At Guard Tower Twelve

I’ve been on the run for weeks

Heading towards the Great Wall

From atop this steep hill

My nose tells me, I’m close

And I smell that distinctive sage aroma

Knowing, the sage bush is nearby

At the gateway to guard tower twelve

My old bones shake and shiver

The Mongolians are closing quickly

Spears and arrows aquiver

Fear grips me, and I crawl low

Fingers grasping the granite, block after block

Frightened, I’m too scared to fall

Onto the cold sharp rocks below

I clamber higher, step after step

Finally, there above me

The flowering sage bush

Mauve blooms bowing in the breeze

My chest sighs and heaves

I clear my lungs, and scream

Soon I’ll be free, as I see

Beyond the sage bush at guard tower twelve

The Emperor’s warriors, my reprieve

Saved, I fill the Royal message bag with sage leaves

A Single Weeping Tree (A Villanelle) – A Poem by Ivor Steven

Great news this morning, my poem “A Single Weeping Tree”(A Villanelle), has been published by Wolff Poetry/A Go-To Literary Journal. A Villanelle is a nineteen-line poem with two rhymes throughout, consisting of five tercets and a quatrain, with the first and third lines of the opening tercet, repeated throughout the poem. Please CLICK on this link below for the complete article.

Source: A Single Weeping Tree (A Villanelle) – A Poem by Ivor Steven

A sincere thank you to Linda Wolff, of Wolff Poetry/A Go-To Literary Journal for accepting and publishing my poem, in her wonderful On-line Magazine.

Suzhou Tonight

Hi Dear readers, today is my 6th day in China, and the first time I’ve had a consistent Wi-Fi connection.

Walk To The Moon

I did walk on The Great Wall

The Wall can be seen by a man on the moon

Well look at me now, Neil

Here I am on top of the World

And I saw a hole in the wall

Crouching down low, I peered

Through a bluestone window

And what did I espy

I saw another piece of the Wall

A guardian tower, standing tall

Flying Behind a Mask

I’m on the flight to far away lands

Chatting to a lady beside me, Sue

She’s a fellow poet too

A member of the Canberra Writer’s

I’m a long long way from home

Travelling back in time

Already two hours behind

Jetting my way to ancient China

To visit the old Forbidden City

Palace of bygone Dynasty’s

Then I’ll walk upon The Great Wall

Feel the ghostly bones beneath my toes

Who’s to say dead fish don’t fly

I’m eating Barramundi and bamboo sauce in the sky

Watching Nick Cave performing on screen

His spectacular concert in Copenhagen

Sipping on a Wolf Blass red wine

I’m relaxing and flying high

Odds And Ends, Curiosity Going Around The Bend

Weekly Prompts: Word Prompt, This weeks word prompt: Curiosity. And there’s plenty of curiosity in these odds and ends pieces of poetry that I’ve compiled below. They are all verse comments that I’ve made to some of my readers.

Curiosity

It’s the devil in me

curiosity of a busy bee

I just had to see

your words of poetry

Pencils

I never retire without my note-pad nearby

My lead pencil, my bedtime writing scribe

Sometimes heavy, other times light

A necessary sword to fight off dark nights

Words To You

You write to me

I write to you

Your thoughts say it all

Words do fall

Out of a crack in the wall

Stand on the rubble tall

Let the dust settle

Light up the Kettle

Have a cuppa and a chat

Light flows back, through the crack

Writing is our world

Words are our pearls

Drum Beat

Writing is a conundrum

Keep beating your drum

There’s a tune in your pen, for every line

Do not worry about the time

It’s only the sound of a chime

Everlasting is your journey’s climb

Rain And Pain

I no more seek pain

I feel caressed by the rain

Soothing my daily strain

Let it rain, I’m over being a champion

Clouds

oh, to float on a cloud high

be at peace with the sky

quietly breathe in and sigh

look down and wonder why

Upside Down

hanging around upside down

gives you a top view of the ground

reverses the annoying busy sounds

lets you think of life’s endless bounds

Wet Grass

You lay there bathing in moonshine

Caressing tingles down your spine

Freshening evening dew

Letting the moist grass entwine you

Lovely

Love has all the answers

Let us all pack our travel-bags

Join the world’ dancers

Let us all wave our white flags

Power

Is the shift of power

For every-ones good

Living in their glass towers

Hearts made of plastic wood

Leaving us to bow and cower

Raped by their greedy falsehoods

I Am You

You are you

From top to toe

You are you

From arm to palm

You are you

A heart full of gold

You are you

A light for our souls

Blue

Good morning dear readers, I’m not very well, a chest cough and cold, but I’ve time to recover before I fly to China on Wednesday, and today I’ve written another two Haiku for you. I’ll be fine, Cyndi’s looking after me, as soon as she finishes licking out my cereal bowl ….. I’ll rest up, listening to my music, and I sincerely recommend, you have a look at the Leonard Cohen Tribute concert, In Montreal 2017, on YouTube, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CSmvvUNTtTc&t=51s

Blue

Today’s deep sky blue
Warming my chest and soul too
Curing cough and flu

True, it’s a dog’s life
Who would kill a lonely cat
Peace to you and you