Burning The Fears

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Christine’s Daily Writing Prompt: The witch doesn’t burn in this one


Burning The Fears

I’m frightened, and I’m too scared to wait.

And knowingly, I’m arriving late.

The ghouls are spying from the hill.

And lower fools are poisoning her will.

Underneath her, a wicker complete.

Above, she’s suspended from a stake.

The bonfires started, against the rules.

And the crowds rejoicing, as the fire drools.

Waiting agog, for her garments to ignite.

The flames are sparking for her, on this night.

And the mob’s listening for her ungodly screams.

But there’s not a whimper, within she beams.

And secretly, I see her black cats drowning tears,

Are extinguishing all her burning fears.

Featured Image: Artwork, by Kerri Costello, Graphic Design Artist, my amazing niece/second cousin, who lives in Philadelphia, she’s so very talented, and a very special person in my life, thank you Kerri.

Ivor is a part-time plumber, former…

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Bananas, Strawberries and Ice-cream

Late tonight, and I’m listening to my ‘Sia’ music playlist

Pondering my life’s forever twists

Eating, bananas, strawberries and ice-cream

Here beside my bed, covered in poetry dreams


Tullawalla booklets, full of memories and rhymes

I’m not going to cease, writing this time

I heard her singing, “keep writing for me”

“let everyone know, how life should be”

“remain the lover of our trees”

“nurture your flowers for the bees”

“continue swimming in your favourite sea”

“keep your imagination free, for yourself and me”


Yeah, no matter what

I’m not going to stop

While my sky is still up top

I’ve more to write before I finally drop


Ivor Steven (c)  August 2019

Queens Park

The feature image above is a photo of a park bench in my favourite Park in Geelong, the spectacular Queens Park area. Glorious riverside walking tracks, and picnic areas, where I took these photos attached. And this where I wrote these two poems, sitting on the banks of the Barwon River, at a picnic spot near Buckley’s Falls, very peaceful and picturesque .       “Queens Park” in response to the Weekly Word Prompt >> Park… please click on the link to visit the Prompt site…..





Above Left: Buckleys Falls                                Above Right: Buckleys Falls, different angle




Above Left: The old Geelong paper mill          Above Right: Barwon River, in minor flood




Above Left: The Queens Park Golf Course      Above Right; Another view of the golf course




Above Left: The Barwon River is flowing fast  Above Right: My favourite spot




Above Left: The famous Queens Park Bridge  Above Right: Magpies enjoying the floods worms

20190815_132750 (2)

Above: End of the track, the minor flood stopped me here…..




Thinking about jumping into the waterfall from above

Diving into her churning pool of heartache, called love

Surging through the cascading rapids, of loves ups and downs

Settling upon her icy lake, where lovers often drown

Flowing down the valley river, to where all waterways meet

Trickling across her dry creek-bed, under the dampened sheet

Spreading amongst the delta swamp, both bitter and sweet

Flooding onto her warm salt flats, discovering the open heat

Spilling the water-lilies of love, over seas blue and deep

Joining her ocean of lost love, caressing her to sleep


Our Garden Seat


Beyond where anyone can see

Past the rain and pain

I’m bathing in the Milky-way

On the edge of the black sea

Away from yesterday’s heat

Under Eden’s golden tree

There’s a comfy garden seat

A resting place, for you and me





Ivor Steven (c)  August 2019

Myfanwy And Glenys

One of my readers/followers, Colleen Brown, this morning asked me about the origin of the photo, of the tree picture in my previous poem/article, from early this morning (When Do We Grow The Next Tree), as I had again reused the photo from this old post. So I’ve been inspired by Colleen, The Chatter Blog >> https://bikecolleenbrown.wordpress.com/2019/08/10/slightly-overcharged/ .. to post this poem of mine, that I wrote last year, ‘Myfanwy And Glenys’. The tree in the photo is of the ancient “Pontfadog Oat Tree” in Wales, said to be 1,200 years old,… unfortunately the old tree was blown down by a storm in 2013……

Myfanwy And Glenys


We haven’t been here for years

At Pontfadog’s Swan Inn drinking beers

The cosy lounge’s open fire invites us to stay

Reminiscing, we talk of bygone days


Remembering our twin Aunties, Myfanwy and Glenys

When they giggled and blushed at our first public kiss

We were sitting upon our Aunties picnic rug

Under the ancient Pontfadog Oak

Overlooking the picturesque river Ceirrog

Gently flowing beneath the Bridge of Madoc

And down the road, the Glyn Valley Tram rolled in

Visitors alighting at the historic Tram Station building

We happily observed their contented smiles

Basking in the beautiful country-side of Pontfadog


We’re comfortably warm here, holding hands

Our ageing dog’s laying on your lap, a white bundle of bliss

A gift from our dear Aunties, Myfanwy and Glenys

Proudly we had named her “Pontfadog”







Ivor Steven (c)  August 2019

Love, Nature, Life.

A Collection of My Comments/Quotes, I’ve said to my readers about their poems/articles, over the previous weeks. Maybe some readers may recognise my little comments, that I’ve made on their sites.  I hope you enjoy my following collection of anecdotes, quotes and comments

Love :


True love under the stars

Remain as our memoirs


Love is kind, love is mine 

I love my world, in every line


Funny how the feet, forget how to move, 

in that quickened heartbeat moment


I walked away yesterday 

I sing in harmony today 


The honesty in love is hard to find 
The truth of love is like a gold mine…. 


Love lives on your lips 

Words only fall from your mouth



Nature :




Free on the breeze 

My spirit soars with ease 


Natures little kites 

Soaring over scenic sights 

Of dynamic flights 


Rain drops fall, end over end 

Enriching my earth, stem by stem 


A rainbow shines 

On natures skyline 


Trees and leaves 

Their life, we breathe


The simple and pure ways of nature 

If only earthlings could be that mature 


is there ever a false spring 

do we actually know anything 

are we only unfixed blossom rings



Life :  


Hope means everything 

A treadmill that drives our dreams 


A mirrored reflection can see the light 

The night is not always dark, you know……. 


The pen is a powerful tool,

even writing on a tiny piece of cigarette paper,

the words can still burn the town down 


I think we are neither better, nor worse 

We have stagnated 


Good friends know our life 

And they know our psyche 



Ivor Steven (c)  July 2019








Lisa Hannigan

Here I present the music I’m listening to this morning, from an Irish singer/songwriter Lisa Hannigan.  I hope enjoy her singing, and you might like to see more of her on YouTube….

Lisa Hannigan: Lyrics.

“We, The Drowned”

We, the drowned
Hold our hollow hearted ground
Til we swallow ourselves down
AgainWe, the ashes,
We spend our days like matches
And burned ourselves as black as
The end.

We know not the fire in which we burn
But we sing and we sing
And the flames grow higher.
We read not the pages which we turn
But we sing, and we sing, and we sing, and we sing

We, the wrong,
We the sewn up and long gone,
Were before and all along
Like this

We, the drowned
The lost and found out,
We are all finished again.

Ivor Steven (c)  July 2019

Frosted Glass

Frosted Glass  (Revised)


My courtyard window is frosted

From this morning’s piercing coldness

It’s a freezing winter’s day

The wind feels like razor blades

Even the venetian blinds, are shaking

With-holding none of the external arctic blast


A frozen sparrow lays on the sill

Ready to fall, on dirt, so icy

A meagre frigid offering

To the polar Snowlord

And I’m a blizzard’s open door

A captured statue, shivering to the core

Riveted, by my eternal music score

Leonard Cohen’s, Avalanche and more


Ivor Steven (c)  July 2019