My Scenic Saturday

The Weekend Challenge on Weekly Prompts is, Scenic. Please go over and visit their fabulous site by clicking >> Here … Below is my photographic article in response to the prompt…

My Scenic Saturday

 

After writing my daily poem in the morning, I then pottered around in my courtyard garden, however my fingers were becoming frozen from the frosty dawn, and I decided to delay the potting, until after going out for my usual Saturday coffee and cafe visit, to the scenically rural Box Office Cafe. The above photos are from my lunchtime visit today. The winter sun was starting to warm me up, and on viewing my photos, you’ll understand, (maybe), why I frequent this quaint and rustic establishment….

It was definitely a lot warmer when I arrived home. Last week a friend of mine made me two wall hanging racks out old wooden pallets. I hung them up during the week, and today was my day to fill the two pallets with plants… The below photos, were taken after I finished the potting and planting…. and I’m very pleased with the gorgeous ”scenic” outlook of my small but vibrant courtyard…

 

 

 

Ivor Steven (c)  June 2020

Sharing the Sun

I’m waiting for Aine’s promise

On an outdoor setting of the Box Office

My open eyes don’t see lies

The white icing is only a disguise

Reality lays under the glossy lid

Hiding a secret taste of apple and fig

Together, we’re sharing the sun’s halo

A warm circle of iridescent yellow

Divinely shiny, fresh and mellow

A glorious treat for me to swallow

 

Aine- In Irish mythology, Áine, is the summer sun. Áine is the goddess of wealth, with power over crops and animals and she is sometimes represented by a red horse.

 

 

Ivor Steven (c)  June 2020

Throwback Friday, If Only Walls Could Talk, by Ivor Steven

I republished this old poem of mine ”If Only Walls Could Talk” in ‘Go Dog Go Cafe’, Throwback Friday’s segment

Go Dog Go Café

Here’s a poem I wrote in August 2018, and during these present days of isolation, the words seem appropriate enough for me to republish them here today…

If Only Walls Could Talk

It’s true you know

Walls can talk

So I’ve been told

By a beautiful rose

You’ll have to listen

Listen very closely

Put your ears against the wall

Use a stethoscope if you must

Listen to the wooden heart

Standing proud and tall

A rough soul, rendered smooth

Layers of paint, every hue

Covering up dusty memories

Of hearts lost, through years of cavities

Like the old Wailing Wall

You’re walking along a history hall

Your secrets, one and all

They’ve heard every gasp

Your children’s moans

And your lover’s groans

Ivor Steven (c)

Special thanks my friend Rose, https://poetrummager.org/ ,  for being my the inspiration to write this poem, after a recent conversation we had, and mentioning…

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Lost, Without a Compass

Lost and isolated, without a compass

Below the dome of justice

Inside the great white shed

Behind faceless masks of dread

Hides a secret constitution misread

And under fire the penguin wears two heads

 

The curtain of the sacred temple

Has been torn down the middle

A shredded divide, created by design

The devils’ chasm, now cleverly enshrined

 

 

Ivor Steven (c)  June 2020

Our World, Air For Us All

I posted this poem yesterday evening, I’m republishing today, without the ‘Links/Pingbacks’…  and I’m adding another old ‘Bee Gees’ song “Words”, which seems to be appropriate for my poem here, which basically, is only ‘words’ from my pondering thoughts.

 

 

Our World, Air For Us All

 

What grows up

Eternally falls to ground

What’s absorbed in

Eventually seeps out

 

Did you hear the sound?

The world is round

 

But is the universe a square?

As we struggle to breathe in our share

Did you hear there’s enough air for us all?

So why cry before we’ve learnt how to crawl?

 

 

 

Ivor Steven (c)  June 2020

Lost In Space

Above, my bedroom space this morning….I’m also linking this poem to “Fae Corps Inc” for their ‘Indie Wednesday’ article, and you may visit their creative site by clicking >Here

 

Lost In Space

 

I’m leaving this land of lost grace

And flying off into space

It’s time to run-away

My airship left yesterday

 

Love is a stowaway in the heart

And love needs a head start

Somewhere in this universe

There’s love in the shepherd’s purse

 

 

Ivor Steven (c)  June 2020

 

Hills and Valleys

“There’s sweetness in the winter sunlight”  … Ivor Steven

This weekend the challenge on Weekly Prompts is; Dessert. …..Please go over and visit their fabulous site, by clicking >>Here.  My poem below is about the sweetness of waking up, after a moment of darkness, and the sudden realisation, that I’m still alive.. !!

 

Hills and Valleys

 

Far beyond the maddening crowds

Falling through the darkening clouds

My sacred message did arrive

And the neon sign said, “You’re safe and alive”

 

Again, I managed to survive

As my celestial angel glided by

Glowing upon the gilded wings of her dove

And loudly singing, she cried, “Don’t give up, my love”

 

Soaring above, she left me a feather

A quill to use, during my valley of rough weather

Her gentle persuasive reminder

To keep on writing, my own agenda

 

Life does matter, despite the hill’s jumbled mess

And there will be a deliverance from this jungle of stress

 

 

Ivor Steven (c)  June 2020

Waiting Time

A poem for my Dad today..

G’day dear readers, well this is my 6th poem that has been published in Geelong Writers publications during the last week. My poem appears in the Chapbook “Sailing In The Wind”. The book is the result of an Ekphrastic Writing Workshop at Boom Gallery here in Geelong.

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Waiting Time

 

I’m a time-traveler on a mission

Waiting for a personal vision

An image of my father’s ghost

To appear above the white-water coast

 

Millenniums ago, I delivered him to the ocean

Threw his ashes across the horizon

Away from faceless time-clocks

Away from hidden jagged rocks

 

Now I see him proudly standing afloat

Wondering who’s left to row the boat

Waiting for the breeze, without a sail

Seeking his passage through soundless hail

Beyond tumbling waves, a prism of light

Waiting stops, his alien spirit soars  tonight

 

 

Ivor Steven (c)  2018

 

The Sun Arose Again, by Ivor Steven

A wonderful surprise for me this morning and a lovely pick-me-up, to find that my poem “The Sun Arose Again”, had been published at ‘Red Wolf Journal’, and thank you to the editor, Irene, for her kind consideration of my submission…

Red Wolf Journal

The Sun Arose Again
by Ivor Steven

There must be a number of silent masks around
Yesterday an old mask flew away at the speed of sound
From behind, the real pieces of what we perceive
Are leftover bones, bleached by sky and sea
Where the worn pebbles lingering in the hand
Fall gently upon lines drawn in the sand
And these new beginnings could be a heavenly gift
As white doves soar above the mourning cliffs

Perhaps the next awakening will be a peaceful one
Full of friendly compassion and wisdom
I’m lucky today, the sun arose again
To light up the hallway, despite the rain
I’ll be the first one to walk out the door
And the only one left here, to see her valour

Ivor Steven was formerly an Industrial Chemist, then a Plumber, and has been writing poetry for 19 years. He has had numerous poems…

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