Cream And Honey

Hi dear readers, I’m re-posting this poem “Cream And Honey”, that I wrote yesterday, especially for those that may have missed it. I’m happy with this piece, the feelings within the words were personally deep and meaningful in their simplicity, and I’ll also be submitting the poem to some magazines, to see if I may be able to get it published. However not many of the poems that I like myself, seem to make it through editors selections.

Cream And Honey

 

I dreamt of what might have been

Dreamt of what I have not seen

Snow on top of lover’s hill

Cream filling my empty till

 

I had forgotten what could have been

Forgotten what I had already seen

Flowers on top of her wooden bier

Honey kisses, and my empty fear

 

I’m dreaming of where I have been

Dreaming of what no-one’s ever seen

Snowflakes silently melting in her palm

Cream and honey, my lovers balm

 

Ivor Steven (c)  2018

Cream And Honey

I dreamt of what might have been

Dreamt of what I have not seen

Snow on top of lover’s hill

Cream filling my empty till

 

I had forgotten what could have been

Forgotten what I had already seen

Flowers on top of her wooden bier

Honey kisses, and my empty fear

 

I’m dreaming of where I have been

Dreaming of what no-one’s ever seen

Snowflakes silently melting in her palm

Cream and honey, a lovers balm

 

Ivor Steven (c)  2018

Blue

Good morning dear readers, I’m not very well, a chest cough and cold, but I’ve time to recover before I fly to China on Wednesday, and today I’ve written another two Haiku for you. I’ll be fine, Cyndi’s looking after me, as soon as she finishes licking out my cereal bowl …..  I’ll rest up, listening to my music, and I sincerely recommend, you have a look at the Leonard Cohen Tribute concert, In Montreal 2017, on YouTube,  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CSmvvUNTtTc&t=51s

Blue 

 

Today’s deep sky blue
Warming my chest and soul too
Curing cough and flu

 

True, it’s a dog’s life
Who would kill a lonely cat
Peace to you and you

 

 

Ivor Steven (c)  2018

Tunnel Echos

I’m lying here on the floor, prone again

Pining in vain

Listening to Leonard’s ballads again

Flooding my soul in rain

There’s happy dreams

And shattered dreams

All flying by

Passing under yesterday’s indoor sky

Here today, where’s tomorrow

Drifting through clouds of sorrow

 

My tunnel visions are echoing

Like rusty train wheels, loudly resonating

I’m my old verandah door, swinging

Badly hinged, my feelings are hanging

Knowing I’m a lonely alien widower

Untouchable, like a Hindu follower

Caresses by wandering hands, shunned and cropped

Wondering why my foreign heart suddenly stopped.

Ivor Steven (c)  2018

They Were Singing My Song

Weekly Prompt: This weeks Word Prompt; Germs

 

There’s festering germs in my brain

The hallucination seems real

Last night I went to a funeral

The funeral was mine

 

Attending the wake

In the forest beside the lake

I was a mental mess

Walking around, dressed in my finest

A plastic name-tag tied to my thong

They were singing my song

 

Alone, I trekked through botanical gardens

Heading towards the big game

Couldn’t remember who was playing

Does it even matter

I was too busy dictating

My last will and testament

To any-one who would listen

Telling the young ones, not to worry

“Uncle Ivor will look after you, we all belong”

They were singing my song

 

There wasn’t a church

More like the Football Club hall

Big enough to hold them all

Ample food and gallons to drink

Leonard was there all along

He was singing my song

 

There was no Hallelujah

Making it write, knew the words

A Tennessee man played the drums

Every foot was tapping to the beat

The beat goes on, and on

They were singing my song

 

The music resonated into my art gallery

Organised to humour the goddess

The local switchboard was frantic, like a chatter blog

Announcing a wake, under the stars

Celestial, stellar, and beyond

They were singing my song

 

Lemons adorned the tables

Soul gifts, smelling fresh as hell

Too fiery there, I wasn’t allowed to dwell

The crowd was giving me the cold shoulder

I was talking to myself in Antarctica

Overhearing the laughter, rejoicing in my coldness

They were singing my song

One of us cannot be wrong

 

I’d like to thank the following, fellow friends/bloggers, for attending my dream-time wake, as per my dream, in order of  appearance.

1. Mental Mess

2. DoesItEvenMatter

3. Making It Write

4. The Tennessee Poet

5. Humouring The Goddess

6. Chatter Blog

7. Stella

8. Lemon

9. Soul Gifts

10. Fresh Hell

11. Fiery

12. Talking To Myself

And of course, Leonard Cohen, for his glorious music and Lyrics.

 

And here is my poem, “It’s Just A Little Dream”

https://ivors20.wordpress.com/2017/12/18/its-just-a-little-dream-2/

Ivor Steven (c)  2018

 

Hold Me.

Take me to my home

Home is where my heart is.

Home’s on that windy hill.

Above a secret valley.

Hovering, a heavenly cloud.

Take me to my home.

I’m waiting here alone.

All packed ready to go.

Vacating this old place.

Leaving this world behind.

Take me to my home.

The beyond will be greener.

I know you’ll be there.

You’ve been waiting so long.

I know you’ll hold me again.

Hold me in our home.

20180123_111307 (2)

Ivor Steven (c)  2018.

3 Day Lyric Quiz – Day 3 –

Singledust Living on the equator but longing for snow

Has nominated me for a 3 Day Lyric Quiz

Thank you Gina.

A three-day lyrical challenge

The Rules:

1 .Thank the person who nominated you. – Thank you Again, Gina
2 .Share one of your favourite song/lyrics one at a time for three days.
3 .Nominate three other bloggers each day. (or one, one is probably enough)

Day 2, I’m nominating, Jane

Day 3 of my “Three-day Lyrical Challenge”, and for all of my readers that know me well, it was always going to be about Leonard Cohen, whom I unashamedly admit has been the biggest influence on my life. He has been with me since I was a teenager, his music, poetry, books and philosophies, have been my constant companion throughout all of the undulations during my life’s journey. For me to choose one special song is a difficult task, but I shall pick an older tune, that I played often during my days/months/years recovering from a stroke, at a time, I could barely read or write properly. Life was tough, and there were moments of “Do I want to go on”, and Leonard was there in my darkest hours, my saviour. Now to that all important song, “Sisters Of Mercy”, and when you read the lyrics, you might understand the significance of the song, during my time of both physical and mental healing. I’ve also added a footnote with some further information …

Sisters Of Mercy, Lyrics

O the sisters of mercy they are not
Departed or gone,
They were waiting for me when I thought
That I just can’t go on,
And they brought me their comfort
And later they brought me this song.
O I hope you run into them
You who’ve been traveling so long.Yes, you who must leave everything
That you cannot control;
It begins with your family,
But soon it comes round to your soul.
Well, I’ve been where you’re hanging
I think I can see how you’re pinned.
When you’re not feeling holy,
Your loneliness says that you’ve sinned.

Well they lay down beside me
I made my confession to them.
They touched both my eyes
And I touched the dew on their hem.
If your life is a leaf
That the seasons tear off and condemn
They will bind you with love
That is graceful and green as a stem.

When I left they were sleeping,
I hope you run into them soon.
Don’t turn on the light
You can read their address by the moon;
And you won’t make me jealous
If I hear that they sweeten your night
We weren’t lovers like that
And besides it would still be all right
We weren’t lovers like that
And besides it would still be all right.

Songwriters: LEONARD COHEN

Sisters Of Mercy lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC

Footnote.

“It is a mysterious process, it involves perseverance and perspiration and sometimes, by some grace, something stands out and invites you to elaborate or animate it. These are sacred mechanics and you have to be careful analysing them as you would never write a line again. If you looked too deeply into the process you’d end up in a state of paralysis.” –Leonard Cohen, about the process of writing.

Though Cohen would produce dark, funereal imagery at will, all his work is undercut with a wry and playful sense of humour.