Promote Yourself Monday, August 31, 2020

Dear readers and followers, here’s a great opportunity for your writings to be read by other writers, and also to find and meet other writers. You are very welcome to participate, come along and visit our writer friendly site…..

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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Mirror, Mirror, Who’s Next to Fall

This Saturday the Weekend Challenge from “Weekly Prompts”  is Reflections. Please go over and visit their fabulous site by clicking >> Here . And here’s my poem in response to their prompt.

Mirror, Mirror, Who’s Next to Fall

The magic mirror is fractured

My reflection’s distorted

Warped and scattered

I’m cracked and unstructured

How can I recapture my image

And remodel my smile on a ruptured grimace

Am I to go on suffering from this virus wreckage

Another seven years of covid’s viral messages

Ivor Steven (c) August 2020

No Place Like Home

A sleeping beauty in her nightwear

Pure honesty lived in our home atmosphere

Her truth breathed, the air we shared

Hiding behind white silent doors

They tried to take her from our shores

By nailing her bed to a hospital floor

They heard my stoic voice roar

I told them, they wouldn’t win

“And watch out!! Don’t throw her in

you’ll surely regret your foolish sin

be warned, she’s Circe the Siren”

When I held her sweetness

I believe I touched greatness

And achieved weightlessness

Ivor Steven (c)

Storms and Old Bogeymen

A special thank you to Derrick Knight for allowing me to use his photograph from yesterday’s article “Wind Swept”, as my Feature Image….

Storms and Old Bogeymen

Nature’s winds blew and blew

Erasing blue sky and sun from view

Our fears rattling inside her typhoon

Her storms ferocious howlings

Were foreboding furious growlings

But our gardens survived her violent prowlings

Was nature’s sky beginning to cave-in?

Beneath the pale bones of old bogeymen

Will our collective strength eventually win?

Ivor Steven (c) August 2020

Memoirs of Ivor Steven

A big thank you to Barbara Leonhard, for her excellent ‘podcast’, and I must say I became quite emotional, it was both fascinating and very moving to hear my poems being narrated by Barbara.

Extraordinary Sunshine Weaver

I have uploaded an episode featuring Ivor Steven to my poetry podcast, Poetry: The Memoir of the Soul. You can access it here.

In this episode, I feature the memoirs of Ivor Steven, who writes of his loss of his wife to Multiple Sclerosis. His poems reveal raw and touching grief.

Ivor Stevenformerly worked as anindustrial chemist and a plumber. He is now retired. He has had numerous poems published in on-line magazines such as Vita Brevis, Spillwords, Drabble, Wolff Poetry Journal, Festival of Poetry, Slasher Monster Magazine, and Fae Corps Publishing. Recently he was appointed to the “Go Dog Go Café” magazine’s website teamof Baristas. He is also an active member of the Geelong Writers Inc. and many of his poems are published in their anthologies. He started writing 19 years ago to help with his recovery from a stroke. During this time, and for the 30 years…

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A Tree Roots’ Exposed Colours

During the blustery tempest light night

The wolves were howling with fright

And the arctic winds blew and blew

But the raging storm did not phase you

Even though your footings were open and bare

Skinless bones exposed to the cold air

Yet still you steadfastly resist the blizzards’ abuse

Defiant and strong, no matter what the news

Valiantly nurturing your mother-tree with true colours

And then daringly feeding your sisters and brothers

Ivor Steven (c) August 2020

Empty Streets and Lonely Chairs

The witty city ones

Don’t get to see all of the sun

They rant and grimace during the day

At night you’ll hear them cry and bay

Their barks are worse than their bites

If they saw the white wolf they’d get a fright

The icing has melted on their cakes

And run off with their dirty plates

Behind masks mesmerised eyes blankly stare

At the city’s empty streets and lonely chairs

There’s too many people in the same boat

This ancient raft’s struggling to stay afloat

There’s not enough life-jackets for the crowd

Some will drown, others will stand proud

Ivor Steven (c) 2020