A Traditional New Year, From Geelong

Traditionally every year here in Geelong, the City Council sends out to every house-hold, a Calendar and information booklet. The twelve pictures in the Calendar, are of the local area, taken by local photographers, and the music I’ve added below, is by local performer, Xavier Rudd. Thank you to Weekly Photo Prompts, for this opportunity to present these glorious photos of the Geelong area. Happy New Year to all my readers. And the Calendar itself is a great >> Tradition

img121 (2)img125 (2)img126 (2)

img127 (2)img128 (2)img130 (2)

img138 (2)img137 (2)img135 (2)

img134 (2)img132 (2)img131 (2)

 

 

Ivor Steven (c)  2018

 

Crooked Ways

I’m not to be told, how to live my life

I’ve lived this life, having lost my wife

I’m not a great philosopher

Nor a fashion writer

 

I’m not a sprightly young traveler

I’ve no money to buy a new carrier

Too old for a toiling plumber

I actually like penning poetry

 

Some say your never too old

Whatever, I’ll continue to be sold

my plans to reach for the stars

Where I shall walk my own crooked ways

 

Ivor Steven (c)  2018

The Golden Beach

I’d like to thank Gina, of Singledust, and her glorious poem, ‘last pure light’, on “Go Dog Go Cafe”, for inspiring me to write my poem, ‘The Golden Beach’, please click >> Here, to read her wonderful words. Also referring to this weeks, Weekly Photo Prompt: Tradition, yes it’s an Australian tradition to spend Christmas at the beach

IMG_1881

Staring over the ripples in my cuppa tea

Gazing at the future forecast by the tea leaf’s

I’m visualising waves upon the morning sea

And the sensation of the sand beneath my feet

 

Oh to walk on the golden beach again

Inhale the fragrance of the wind caressing my skin

And to swim in the rejuvenating ocean

Feel the surf’s spray on my body, like warm rain

 

The tentacles of fresh air draw you in securely

An aura of purity and peace abounds richly

There’s a crispness from the sun that warms your heart

And a cleansing depth within the surrounds that soothes your soul

 

Ivor Steven (c)  2018

Ballad Of The Absent Mare; By Leonard Cohen: My Typing Exercise

Hello dear readers, I’ve been having trouble comprehending and concentrating on reading your articles/posts, of more than two stanza’s or one short paragraph in length. So my physiotherapist has given me some tasks to help improve my situation. Today I’m typing up one of favourite longer poem’s, by Leonard Cohen, called the “Ballad Of The Absent Mare”. I hope you enjoy his brilliant writing here.

Ballad Of The Absent Mare: By Leonard Cohen

Say a prayer for the cowboy, his mare’s run away

and he’ll walk till he finds her, his darling, his stray

But the river’s in flood and the roads are awash

and the bridges break up in the panic of loss

 

And there’s nothing to follow, there’s nowhere to go

She’s gone like the summer, she’s gone like the snow

And the crickets are breaking his heart with their song

as the day caves in and the night is all wrong

 

Did he dream, was it she who went galloping past

and bent down the fern and broke open the grass

and printed the mud with the iron and the gold

that he nailed to her feet when he was the lord

 

And though she goes grazing a minute away

he tracks her all night and he tracks her all day;

blind to her presence except to compare

his injury here with her punishment there

 

Then at home on his branch in the highest tree

a songbird sings out so suddenly

Oh the sun is warm and the soft winds ride

on the willow trees by the riverside

 

And the world is sweet and the world is wide

and she’s there where the light and the darkness divide

and steam’s coming off her, she’s huge and she’s shy

and she steps on the moon when she paws at the sky

 

And she comes to his hand but she’s not really tame

She longs to be lost and he longs for the same

And she’ll bolt and she’ll plunge through the first open pass

to roll and to feed in the sweet mountain grass

 

Or she’ll make a break for the high plateau

where there’s nothing above and there’s nothing below

And it’s time for their burden, it’s time for the whip

Will she walk through the flame, can he shoot from the hip

 

So he binds himself to the galloping mare

and she binds herself to the rider there

and there is no space but there’s left and right

and there is no time but there’s day and night

 

And he leans on her neck and he whispers low

Whither thou goest I will go

And they turn as one and they head for the plain

no need for the whip, no need for the rein

 

Now the clasp of this union, who fastens it tight

who snaps it asunder the very next night ?

Some say the rider, some say the mare

some say love’s like the smoke, beyond all repair

 

But my darling says, Leonard, just let it go by,

that old silhouette on the great Western sky

So I pick out a tune and they move right along

and they’re gone like the smoke, they’re gone like this song

 

Extracted from the book: Leonard Cohen, Poems And Songs, Everyman’s Library Pocket Poets

 

Ivor Steven (c)  2018

Sleepless Thoughts

My sleepless thoughts are being unkind

I’ve repetitive words on my mind

My memories of the past

Are becoming faded

My empty hands were once full

Of memories and rhymes

 

My imagination for the future

Is becoming jaded

My fixated hands are now full

Of old expectations and unused time

Maybe these words will clear my mind

Help me think about what I may find

 

 

Ivor Steven (c)  2018

A Silent Visitor

You’re a friend, you don’t have to phone me

You’re a friend, you don’t have to visit me

You’re a friend, no need to enlist me

You’re a friend, you’ll be the last one I’ll see

Your honesty is an eternal friend to me

Your finality will be a truthful friend to me

No need for your secret messages

No need for your silent thoughts

All I need, is to share the sun

All I need, is to share the rain

Share the moon, and the universe’s pond

Share the spoon that feeds my star beyond

Ivor Steven (c) 2018