in my hazy bedroom
it is unexplainable
what I say to the moon
and there is that secret
unknowable connection
an unmistakable tune
received in an echoing response
from my unattainable moon
Ivor Steven (c) January 2022
in my hazy bedroom
it is unexplainable
what I say to the moon
and there is that secret
unknowable connection
an unmistakable tune
received in an echoing response
from my unattainable moon
Ivor Steven (c) January 2022
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…..by clicking on the link at the bottom of this article >>
View Original Post…
Welcome toPromote Yourself Monday. All Go Dog Go Cafe community members are invited to postonelink 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.
Hoot, listen and learn
The old wise owl said sternly
Hoot, then he adjourned
Ivor Steven (c) January 2022
Over at Go Dog Go Cafe’s, Throwback Friday segment, I posted my poem “Museum”
This is a poem I wrote on May 8th 2018.
I dreamt of her serenity
I gently held her frailty
I whispered calmly
words of love and grace
unable to fathom
her living museum
Ivor Steven (c) May 2018
G’day, and welcome to my blog site. My name is Ivor Steven, I live in Geelong, Australia. I’m an ex-industrial chemist, and a retired plumber, and a former Carer of my wife(Carole), for 30 years, who suffered from severe MS. I Write poetry about those personal thoughts, throughout and beyond my life as a Carer. I’ve been blogging for over 4 years, and writing poems for 20 years. Of course a lot of my poems are about my favourite subject Carole, but since I’ve been blogging my writings have become quite varied, humourous, mystical, observational, and even a few monster/horror poems.View all posts by ivor20
I missed out on the dawn sky
morning did pass me by
daylight grew wings and learnt to fly
my horizon fades out of sight
and twilight will turn into night
before I begin to write
Ivor Steven (c) January 2022
I am a tiring old writer
like a punch-drunk fighter
who buckled and fell
before the round eleven bell
lying flat on the bloody canvas
wishing I were ambidextrous
like the incredible Emily Dickison
(Oh, she must have been!)
and have I more stories in my subconscious?
ring the bell for round twelve
I am in the corner, blindly courageous
sitting here within my dizziness
waiting for the new world to stop being carnivorous
Ivor Steven (c) January 2022
Hello dear readers and followers, as you may know, I now write for “Coffee House Writers” magazine on a fortnightly basis, and my poem “Water-wrinkled Hands And Sand Between My Toes”, is in this weeks edition of Coffee House Writers Magazine. … please click on the link below and visit my poem, at Coffee House Writers >> https://coffeehousewriters.com/water-wrinkled-hands/
Water-wrinkled Hands And Sand Between My Toes (Revised)
The sand is not real gold
More like fine Indian silk
And the water is not that cold
Tepid like cool milk
Softly caressing my salty feet
And the ocean’s sheer blue waves
Carry surfers to shore
Then they paddle out for more
So many happy souls
Every face a smile
Mums, dads, children, grandparents too
And old blokes like me
All enjoying the sea
Sand-castles built with glee
Hungry seagulls hovering on the breeze
And prancing for a feed
The commune beach
A lesson to teach
No matter who you are
Some are here from afar
Pale, dark or sunburnt skin
Could be cream or tanned
Bodies short and tall
Rotund and thin
All frolicking as one
Under our southern summer sun
Ivor Steven (c) January 2022
Here in Geelong we are going through an extended warm/hot spell, of some 20 days in a row of the temperature being over 30’C … and this a poem I wrote 3 years on January 25th, so appropriately the poem gets replay today …
Hotter Than Helios
Today is hotter than hot
This town’s a living melting pot
You could fry an egg without a cook-top
I won’t be taking Yorkie for a trot
My body’s losing the plot
Waiting for my aorta’s mystery clots
My writing’s burnt out, on Helios hill
Leaving an arid inkwell, holding a dry quill
Despite the heat, an exercise session I’ll do, It’s my will
To continue with this daily drill
No excuses, to lose sight of spring’s daffodil
Working out, like I’m an old grinding flour-mill
Even if I’m over-baked, like Sunday’s hot roast
For her, I’ll take life’s chances to the utmost
Featured Image: From Bing Images, numrush.nl
Ivor Steven (c) 2019
Above Images: My doggie Frankie, on his early morning walkie.
Before The Bell Rings
I am changing my daily routine
Now summer is in full swing
Hot like a fiery lantern
Before the breakfast bell rings
I will leave early and go walking
With doggie in tow, happily prancing
We will bathe in golden sunrises
Under the cobalt blue skies
Adorned with white cirrus stripes
Ivor Steven (c) January 2022
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…..by clicking on the link at the bottom of this article >>
View Original Post…
Welcome toPromote Yourself Monday. All Go Dog Go Cafe community members are invited to postonelink 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.