Tag: Poetry/Australia

A Fairy-tale Misread

I’m slowly drifting out of bed

Feeling like an empty wood-shed

There’s a fire within, unfed

Yesterday’s ashes smoulder inside my head

Remembering the day we were wed

The perfect couple they said

A fairy-tale, crystal, silver and golden thread

Our life was a rainbow, yellow, blue and red

Now I dream of you, beneath our bedspread

And I’m sorry, our fairy-tale was misread

 

Everglade,  By Antony And The Johnson’s. Lyrics.

When I’m floating in the water
And your eyes are lilies all around
When I’m lying sweetly in my bed
The sun plays crystal with my eyes

Then I stop
My body stops crying for home
My limbs stop weeping for home

When I’m peeping in a parlour of trees
And the leaves are winking all around
I’m home, my heart sobs in my veins
But brains they play the softest games

Fingers kiss the string
Mouth taste the blade
Of everglade (x3)

 

Ivor Steven (c)  2018

There’s A Dog In My Bed

Laying beside me, she quietly snores

Upon my pillow, her out-stretched fluffy paws

Slowly she awakes, breakfast is due

Nuzzling my face, come-on you !

Looking straight at me, friendly brown eyes

Wagging her tail, she’s forever loving and shy

Long golden ears, flip and flop

Smooches and cuddles, she never stops

 

Ivor Steven (c)  2018

 

Beyond My Time Here

words written, her silent years

every fallen tear

words written, out of sheer fear

often drowning in beer

words written, not so severe

my everlasting revere

words written, for everyone to hear

exploring a new frontier

words written, clouds beginning to clear

searching for love, far away and near

words written, needing someone to steer

tomorrow, and beyond my time here

 

Ivor Steven (c)  2018

Morning Tea With Dad’s Orchids

Dawn’s spring-time sunshine bathes me

Relaxing here under my verandah tree

Sipping on lemon and ginger tea

Watching a busy working honey-bee

 

Dad’s annual orchids are blooming

The flowers are glowing and beaming

I hear their spirit-bird songs swooning

Good morning dad, mum, and my girl, our day’s booming

Xavier Rudd, Lyrics

“Follow The Sun”

Follow, follow the sun
And which way the wind blows
When this day is done
Breathe, breathe in the air
Set your intentions
Dream with care
Tomorrow’s a new day for everyone
A brand new moon and brand new sun

So follow, follow the sun
The direction of the birds
The direction of love
Breathe, breathe in the air
Cherish this moment
Cherish this breath
Tomorrow’s a new day for everyone
A brand new moon, brand new sun

When you feel life coming down on you like a heavy weight
When you feel this crazy society adding to the strain
Take a stroll to the nearest water’s edge, remember your place
Many moons have risen and fallen long, long before you came
So which way is the wind blowing
What does your heart say

So follow, follow the sun
And which way the wind blows
When this day is done

 

Ivor Steven (c)  2018

Cloudy Visions

I’m trying to write myself a Mission Statement

Feels like a speech I need to practice in the basement

I’ve never been good at making speeches

They’re messy, like eating mushy soft peaches

 

When I first began writing poetry

My main aim was to teach myself to read and write again

Eighteen years ago this month, I suffered a Stroke

Times become tough, depression drowned this bloke

 

Poetry became my form of self therapy

I listened to music and inspirational lyrics

Leonard Cohen’s songs were always playing

I fervently keep writing

 

My life became a routine, centered around love

The love of caring for my wife, her MS was severe

Writing was my retreat, a place of solace

My world was narrow, I was skating on thin ice

 

Six years ago my wife did pass

My heart turned to water on glass

Then I heard Leonard singing again

His music and words were not in vain

 

I resumed writing my poems

Grieving, words were sad and solemn

Healing takes time

Soulfully I wrote more rhyme

 

I joined local writers groups

My words were out there, under readers boots

On a prompt, I started a website fifteen months ago

My confidence grew, I came in from the snow

 

Wondering what’s my goal, where do I go

There’s many answers I do not know

In the future, I believe a poetry book or two

I’ve volumes of poems, enough to fill my shoes

 

This is my story

My life’s journey

Of cloudy visions

My words, my mission

I used to care about tomorrow’s endings

Now I care about today’s beginnings.

 

Ivor Steven (c)  2018

Tunnel Echos

I’m lying here on the floor, prone again

Pining in vain

Listening to Leonard’s ballads again

Flooding my soul in rain

There’s happy dreams

And shattered dreams

All flying by

Passing under yesterday’s indoor sky

Here today, where’s tomorrow

Drifting through clouds of sorrow

 

My tunnel visions are echoing

Like rusty train wheels, loudly resonating

I’m my old verandah door, swinging

Badly hinged, my feelings are hanging

Knowing I’m a lonely alien widower

Untouchable, like a Hindu follower

Caresses by wandering hands, shunned and cropped

Wondering why my foreign heart suddenly stopped.

Ivor Steven (c)  2018

Don’t Ask Me Why

I read a glorious article by Gina of Singledust this morning, please do go over and have a read, Click >> HERE. Thanks to Gina, her lovely “Letter”, prompted me into remembering this old poem, that’s been hidden away in my archives, and that’s the reason “why” I’m posting these words today.

Unknowingly, I often dream of her serene ashen face

Years ago, I gently held her frailty in my tired arms

Softly whispering to her, last words of love and grace

Don’t ask me why, I count the days, since I’ve missed her charms

I cannot give you a sensible nor plausible answer

Don’t ask my why, I count the weeks, since I lost my way

I’m unable to fathom the depths of my inner cancer

Don’t ask me why, I count the months, since she died that day

Because I’m still gradually recovering

Remembering she’ll never ever go away

And somehow, I’m steadily rediscovering

Knowing someday, I’ll be allowed to stay

https://youtu.be/aOadHddTxPU

 

Ivor Steven (c)  2018

They Were Singing My Song

Weekly Prompt: This weeks Word Prompt; Germs

 

There’s festering germs in my brain

The hallucination seems real

Last night I went to a funeral

The funeral was mine

 

Attending the wake

In the forest beside the lake

I was a mental mess

Walking around, dressed in my finest

A plastic name-tag tied to my thong

They were singing my song

 

Alone, I trekked through botanical gardens

Heading towards the big game

Couldn’t remember who was playing

Does it even matter

I was too busy dictating

My last will and testament

To any-one who would listen

Telling the young ones, not to worry

“Uncle Ivor will look after you, we all belong”

They were singing my song

 

There wasn’t a church

More like the Football Club hall

Big enough to hold them all

Ample food and gallons to drink

Leonard was there all along

He was singing my song

 

There was no Hallelujah

Making it write, knew the words

A Tennessee man played the drums

Every foot was tapping to the beat

The beat goes on, and on

They were singing my song

 

The music resonated into my art gallery

Organised to humour the goddess

The local switchboard was frantic, like a chatter blog

Announcing a wake, under the stars

Celestial, stellar, and beyond

They were singing my song

 

Lemons adorned the tables

Soul gifts, smelling fresh as hell

Too fiery there, I wasn’t allowed to dwell

The crowd was giving me the cold shoulder

I was talking to myself in Antarctica

Overhearing the laughter, rejoicing in my coldness

They were singing my song

One of us cannot be wrong

 

I’d like to thank the following, fellow friends/bloggers, for attending my dream-time wake, as per my dream, in order of  appearance.

1. Mental Mess

2. DoesItEvenMatter

3. Making It Write

4. The Tennessee Poet

5. Humouring The Goddess

6. Chatter Blog

7. Stella

8. Lemon

9. Soul Gifts

10. Fresh Hell

11. Fiery

12. Talking To Myself

And of course, Leonard Cohen, for his glorious music and Lyrics.

 

And here is my poem, “It’s Just A Little Dream”

https://ivors20.wordpress.com/2017/12/18/its-just-a-little-dream-2/

Ivor Steven (c)  2018