That Drumming Sound

When you hit the ground

After your head has been bounced around

You will again hear that drumming sound

Rhythmical, thump, thump, pound

And your waterlogged boots are lower bound


Do they send you off, when you’re on the mound

Do they think you’re faking it, like a clown

One day they will notice, you cry and frown

And throw you a lifeboat, before you drown

But, those waterlogged boots are holding you down


Ivor Steven (c)  Nov 2019

Blinded by The Bight

Blinded By The Bight


With my eyes shut tight

I felt a blue shark bite

Angrily into my neck

How did he arrive on this deck

Floundering, covered in watery oil

His sad crimson eyes on the boil

The society’s outcast, washed ashore

A native ejection, from offshore bores

Hanging there, in our Great Australian Bight

And jointly, we’re sharing similar pains tonight

Both, corporate debris, lost and out of sight

He has dry landed, I am a broken kite


“Puppets”,  lyrics by Leonard Cohen

German puppets burned the Jews
Jewish puppets did not choose
Puppet vultures eat the dead
Puppet corpses they are fed
Puppet winds and puppet waves
Puppet sailors in their graves
Puppet flower, puppet stem
Puppet time dismantles them
Puppet me and puppet you
Puppet German
Puppet Jew

Puppet Presidents command
Puppet troops to burn the land
Puppet fire, puppet flames
Feed on all the puppet names
Puppet lovers in their bliss
Turn away from all of this
Puppet reader shakes his head
Takes his puppet wife to bed
Puppet me and puppet you
Puppet German, puppet Jew

Puppet Presidents command
Puppet troops to burn the land
Puppet fire, puppet flames
Feed on all the puppet names
Puppet night comes down to play
The after act to puppet day


Ivor Steven (c)  Nov 2019

My Lost Sock, A Christmas Story

The midweek word prompt on Weekly Prompts is Giving Thanks.  This poem here is an older one of mine, but I think the piece is appropriate for the prompt. Please go over and visit the “Weekly Prompts” site by clicking >> Here,

My Lost Sock, A Christmas Story


I’m a hand knitted woollen sock

Here’s my story from year dot

In the beginning

I started as a piece of spinning

The wool off a sheep’s back

An odd colour of brownie-black

Being spun into dark twines

On a wheel from olden times

Craftily hand knitted

Lovingly, soon to be gifted

There were two of us

We were like knitted twins

Righty and Lefty

And of course I’m Righty

Our gorgeous red-haired spinner and knitter

Had dutifully finished

Cheerfully folded and wrapped

In colourful paper and flower strap

A fabulous Christmas present

For her husband’s, aged parent

Soon it was Christmas day

Everyone’s jolly, merry and gay

Drinking red wine, local Cabernet

Eating fish, caught in a nearby bay

And presents opening time began

Families smiled and sang

We’re sitting on Pop’s lap

Gently and slowly, being unwrapped

Pop proudly exclaims and holds us up

“Look here, see what I’ve got”

Suddenly Pop throws Lefty into the corner

And I’m left dangling like “Little Jack Horner”

There’s much laughter and jokes

Kids come over and give me a friendly poke

Poor discarded Lefty, on the floor with no folks

While I’m up here being kindly stroked

There’s more giggles, they’re all staring at me

Pop’s grinning from ear to ear

Wriggling in his wheelchair to loud cheers

Oh, my discovery, Pop’s left leg’s missing below his knee



Ivor Steven (c)  Nov 2019

Tonight, I Hear A Light

Tonight, I Hear A Light


From his tower of song

The teacher heralds his story

Thought provoking and foreboding

His words, are wise and profound

Almost a lullaby to your inner child

Or shaking your soul, almost to death

Recognising the ancient past

Honouring a vaccinated future

In a world that has been torn

His personal eulogy, is solemn but not forlorn

My heart will keep living the romance

Thank you for the dance


 “It’s Torn”  Lyrics, by Leonard Cohen

I see you in windows that open so wide
There’s nothing beyond them and no one inside
You kick off your sandals and shake out your hair
The salt on your shoulders like sparks in the air
There’s silt on your ankles and sand on your feet
The river too shallow, the ocean too deep
You smile at your suffering, the sweetest reprieve
Why did you leave us, why did you leave

You kick off your sandals and shake out your hair
It’s torn where you’re dancing, it’s torn everywhere
It’s torn on the right and it’s torn on the left
It’s torn in the centre which few can accept

It’s torn where there’s beauty, it’s torn where there’s death
It’s torn where there’s mercy but torn somewhat less
It’s torn in the highest from kingdom to crown
The messages fly but the network is down
Bruised at the shoulder and cut at the wrist
The sea rushes home to its thimble of mist
The opposites falter, the spirals reverse
And Eve must re-enter the sleep of her birth
And up through the system the worlds are withdrawn
From every dominion the mind stood upon
And now that it’s over and now that it’s done
The name has no number, not even the one

Come gather the pieces all scattered and lost
The lie in what’s holy, the light in what’s not
The story’s been written the letter’s been sealed
You gave me a lily but now it’s a field

You kick off your sandals and shake out your hair
It’s torn where you’re dancing, it’s torn everywhere


Ivor Steven (c)  Nov 2019




Promote Yourself Monday, November 25, 2019

G’day dear readers, welcome to Go Dog Go Cafe’s, Promote Yourself Monday. Please, you’re most welcome to come over and post your article here, a friendly site for writers, and a place to meet writers….

Go Dog Go Café

Promote yourself Mon

Welcome to Promote Yourself Monday.  All Go Dog Go Cafe community members are invited to post one link to one specific piece of their writing (600 words or less please!) they have published on their blog, Facebook page, or Instagram feed into the comments section below.

If you post a link, be sure to read some of the other great writing people have linked to.

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It Was Time To Leave

This weekend the photo challenge on Weekly Prompts is: Clock the Time. I’ve chosen an older poem, so I only have to copy and paste. Be sure to visit the fabulous Weekly Prompts site by clicking >>HERE

It Was Time To Leave


It’s time to tidy up my mess

Clean up the room and get dressed

It’s time to pack my suitcase

Fill the travel bag and vacate this place

It’s time to put on my famous rocker shoes

And walk away from this dream so true

It’s time to say heartfelt goodbyes

To these wonderful Philadelphia guys

It’s time for final hugs and kisses

Sad farewells and best wishes

It’s time for my usual emotional tears

Separate myself from these every day cheers

It’s time to flyaway from a land of Dragons and fairies

Leave this magical world of faraway families

It’s time to say a million thank you’s

For making my stay a Really Real great do

It’s time for me to travel back home

With glorious memories of this mystical thunder dome


Ivor Steven (c)  Nov 2019

A Courtyard Of Dreams

Hello readers, I’m able to do a bit of copy and pasting, without straining or tiring myself out.. enjoy…

A Courtyard Of Dreams


Children can be childish, resistant and defiant

Adults can be childish, arrogant and ignorant


I’ll keep my old heels on the ground

While I’m able to see the difference

Between blue, green and brown


With love, there comes hidden trials of hurt

With denial of love, there’s only dust and dirt


A heart’s love, is true tenderness

Do not wait for tomorrow

There will not always be, that life’s sweetness

One day your soul, will know true sorrow



Moving On, by Leonard Cohen:  Lyrics

“Moving On”

 “I loved your face I loved your hair
Your t-shirts and your evening-wear
As for the world the job the war
I ditched them all to love you more

And now you’re gone, now you’re gone
As if there ever was a you
Who broke the heart and made it new?
Who’s moving on, who’s kiddin’ who?

I loved your moods I love the way
They threaten every single day
Your beauty ruled me though I knew
Twas more hormonal that the view

Now you’re gone, now you’re gone
As if there ever was a you
Queen of lilac, queen of blue
Who’s moving on, who’s kiddin’ who?

I loved your face I loved your hair
Your t-shirts and your evening-wear
As for the world the job the war
I ditched them all to love you more

And now you’re gone, now you’re gone
As if there ever was a you
Who held me dyin’ pulled me through
Who’s moving on, who’s kiddin’ who?

Who’s moving on, who’s kiddin’ who?”


Ivor Steven (c)  Nov 2019


Annoying Mind Games (Again)

Hi dear readers , below is a poem from two years ago, one that I really didn’t want to post again, but sadly, here the story is, on repeat again…………

Here I am in bed now, with a sharp raging headache(again). I’m not well, my occipital neuralgia has flared up (again) . All I can do is rest, so I’ll be lying low for a few days (or more). I’m beginning my treatment on Tuesday, physiotherapy and acupuncture, which in the end gives me some manageable relief. The whole process can take up to 4 weeks,…. Yeah… I should be ok for Christmas……. Hope you all have a good weekend


Mind Games (Again)


There’s a sharp pain

Inside my brain

Harpooning my eye

More than Ouch, I cry

So hard to write

Blurry is my sight

All I do is peep

And I must rest and sleep

I’ve not lost the knack

And I shall be back……….

Hopefully soon

Before they play my tune


Occipital neuralgia is a distinct type of headache characterised by piercing, throbbing, or electric-shock-like chronic pain in the upper neck, back of the head, and behind the ears, usually on one side of the head. Typically, the pain of occipital neuralgia begins in the neck and then spreads upwards.


Ivor Steven (c)  Nov 2019

Enough To Fill A Fire Bucket

How deep is your ocean ?

Are your tears drowning in the Red Sea ?

Is that black keyboard able to swim ?

Will your wet-suit protect you from the frozen lake ?

How long before your aqueducts run dry ?


Have you someone, to repair your heart’s broken levees ?

Are you able to withstand the crushing waves ?

Will those floodwaters ever stop ?

Has the smouldering really been doused ?

Were your love ones ashes, washed away today ?


Is this the story of life, for you ?

Then, ring-out the moisture, from your leftover soul

Fill the fire buckets, with raindrops of sorrow

Let us join the human-chain, and throw water on the flames



Ivor Steven (c)  Nov 2019