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
Ivor Steven (c) 2018
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
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
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
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
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
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
This morn, I broke my favourite bowl
We can buy another one
You say lightheartedly
But can we buy another me
I was as clumsy as can be
Awkward to the ninth degree
Oh, to sit down with a cuppa’ tea
Then I stumbling, spilt the milk
All across the kitchen bench
We can easily clean the stench
You say lightheartedly
But can we get another me
Will I continue to fall out of every tree
Will I always miss where I pee
How am I to swim the pacific sea
How am I to climb the stars with thee
Ivor Steven (c) 2018
Hello dear readers, Happy Christmas and Merry New Year. I’ve just finished typing up a collection of my published poems, which I’ve done for Christmas gifts for my family and friends, there seems to have been 23 of them. It was a lot of poems to present here in one folder, but really not a great amount to have published, probably represents my laziness and aversion to print up my poems for submissions. Maybe after I recover from my illness and stroke, I will make more of an effort this new year, to submit poems for publication. Have a glorious festive season everyone, and please enjoy the music.
Ivor Steven (c) 2018
There’s a word called surviving
I know that is me
You cannot survive without help
I know that is me
Support from family and friends
I know that is me
There’s a word called love
I know it seeps out of me
You cannot survive without love
I know it seeps out of me
Love comes from everyone I know
I know it seeps out of me
Ivor Steven (c) 2018
Thank you to Sue W of Nan’s Farm, << click here, she supplied the title and gave me the inspiration, to write this introverted poem of mine
I’m sorry for smouldering
Smouldering my ashes on your blue sky
I’m on a different kind of angle
Slightly leaning to the right
I used to always turn to the left
That’s when I knew the difference
Between right and wrong
Now, I’m just around the corner
Living on broken cobblestones
And old torn bed-sheets
I’m feeling incompetent in my sleep
Life-long dreams are incomplete
My time here is unwell and unfinished
Unfinished are my words for the future
They’re unwritten from far and near
And this ancient boat needs a good rudder
To steer me through these rough seas
Ivor Steven (c) 2018
Ivor.Plumber/Poet 