A Steep Slide (a Musette)

Recently Ryan Stone [https://daysofstone.wordpress.com/] introduced me to a new poem format Musette, and today I am presenting my first attempt at writing a Musette.
“Musette” 
three verses
 
first line – 2 syllables 
second line – 4 syllables 
third line – 2 syllables 

rhyme scheme – a/b/a c/d/c e/f/e 
title reflects poems content
 


A Steep Slide (a Musette)




I creep

Down the steep slide

I weep


Betrayed

I hide and shake

Afraid


I crawl

Away from shame

And bawl






Ivor Steven (c) September 2022

Yorkie, Against the Undertow

The Wednesday challenge from Weekly Prompts is: CYCLING … please go over and visit their fabulous site by clicking on >> Here … My poem today is a “Repost” from January 7th 2019, and some of my followers may remember my hectic rehab’ time after my stroke in early December. I had to get myself fit enough to fly to New York by April 24th …
Well here it is Thursday evening in Geelong, 10.55pm, and I’m editing my new book “Perceptions” again … oh well that’s “the undertow of life”





Yorkie, Against the Undertow


I’m seated on my silver bike, called Yorkie

Pedalling slow and steadily

I’m not actually moving

But I am dreaming

Thinking of places I could be

Visualising what I might see


If I can keep pushing

I’ll end up with a Qantas cushion

I know the year is new and early

But I’m feeling unfit and unworldly

There’s a long way for my body to go

There’s no turning back, despite the undertow






Ivor Steven (c) August 2022

Tullawalla #29, Today, Beside the Sea

Hello dear readers and followers, I am pleased to announce that I have managed to produce my “Twenty Nineth Tullawalla” Booklet … For new readers that don’t know about these booklets, they are basically the reason why I write poetry. I produce these ‘home-printed’ booklets for the sole purpose of raising funds for my favourite charity organisation, the MS Society, in Australia via the MS Charity Shop here in Geelong. And actually all money’s I receive for any of my poetry .via, submissions, I donate to the MS Society…. I’m proud to announce, that the sale of my “Tullawalla Booklets”, have now gone pass $1500.00, … to all the lovely readers, who have donated, to help achieve such a wonderful amount, a big heartfelt thank you, from “us” and the MS Society … …..Incredibly, there is now a total of “1255 poems”, Yep, well over “A Thousand Poems” in my collection/series of “29” Tullawalla Booklets. After 3 months, this booklet is finally completed, and ready for sale now !! As always, they are available for purchase, either as a hard copy ‘Booklet’, or a PDF format….. All proceeds go to the MS Charity Shop, here in Geelong West….. Please contact me here through my website page and I can chat to you about arrangements from there…. Oh, the booklet is called “Tullawalla, Today, Beside the Sea”… And here is the link to my website >> https://ivors20.wordpress.com



Today, Beside the Sea




After I left the fish tank

I lived on a nearby riverbank

Close to the connected sea

I would look beyond the ocean

Out to the dark blue horizon

As far as the eye could see


That was the ocean

That was our river

And now her river has been set free

An ebb tide that flows through me


Today beside the sea

I wait here

For tomorrow’s horizon

To set me free






Ivor Steven (c) July 2022

Today, Beside the Sea. is up at Coffee House Writers magazine.

Hello dear readers and followers, I now write for “Coffee House Writers” magazine on a fortnightly basis, and my poem“Today, Beside the Sea”, 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/today-beside-the-sea/



Today, Beside the Sea


After I left the fish tank

I lived on a nearby riverbank

Close to the connected sea

I would look beyond the ocean

Out to the dark blue horizon

As far as the eye could see


That was the ocean

That was our river

And now her river has been set free

An ebb tide that flows through me


Today beside the sea

I wait here

For tomorrow’s horizon

To set me free






Ivor Steven (c) July 2022

Her Everlasting Smile (a Villanelle)

Next Sunday at my monthly “Poetry Dome” meeting we are required to write a ‘Villanelle’ , and below is my attempt at the ‘Format’ … which I have adapted from an old favourite poem of mine, “Everlasting Smile”, you’ll find my original poem attached below the Villanelle …


Her Everlasting Smile (a Villanelle)




I wonder, was it all worthwhile

My chest, heavy as never before

Remembering, her everlasting smile


I look back, on her unfortunate life-style

Being unable to walk and talk anymore

I wonder, was it all worthwhile


I relive, her personal exile

My throat, swollen and sore

Remembering, her everlasting smile


I hesitate, retracing every mile

My tears, splash on the floor

I wonder, was it all worthwhile


I cringe, behind my happy profile

My heart, has forgotten how to roar

Remembering, her everlasting smile


I sleep alone, awaiting the next trial

My tongue, tired, needs to say more

I wonder, was it all worthwhile

Remembering, her everlasting smile




______________________________________
______________________________________


Everlasting Smile


My eyes, narrowly cracked.

My cheeks, slightly etched.
I rest here, retracing every mile.
Remembering, your everlasting smile.

My lips, already dry.
My tongue, trying to say goodbye
.
I wonder, was it all worthwhile.
Remembering, your loneliest smile.

My throat, lumpy and sore.
My chest, heavy as never before.

I look back, recalling your life-style.
Remembering, your younger smile.

My lungs, empty and tight.
My legs, weak and light.
I relive, your personal exile.
Remembering, your generous smile.

My head, spinning from fright.
My heart, deep and out of sight.
I sleep alone, crying like a child.
Remembering, your everlasting smile.







Ivor Steven (c) July 2022

Throwback Friday, A Voice in the Mist, by Ivor Steven

I found this old poem in a dusty foolscap folder under a pile of “stuff” I was tidying up … maybe from 15 years …

Go Dog Go Café

Today’s poem is one that I have not published on my web/blog site, and I am not sure when I first wrote the original words. Up until now, this a piece that has been filed away in a foolscap folder.

A Voice in the Mist

The moon’s my patriarch

My dream, glowing in the dark

She’s a vision, no feel, no mound

Only a voice, without sound

A distant shining, so forlorn

My heartache until dawn

She’s a pillow, no caress, no kiss

Only a voice, from beyond the mist

Ivor Steven (c) July 2022

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…

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Hot Cross Buns and Chocolates

Hello readers and followers, the poem I am reposting today is an ”Alphabet” poem that I wrote in April 2019, two days before I left to fly to NewYork, on my way to visiting my Philadelphia cousins, who I had never met, and of course I was also to meet my favourite niece and penpal “Kerri” for the “First” time … So, I thought I would try to write my “First” every Alphabet Poem, to celebrate my “First” every trip to New York and Philadelphia …




Hot Cross Buns and Chocolates


America, here I come, ready or not

Beyond my bed-zoned borders

Chasing those forgotten horizons

Dreams are finally blossoming

Easter treats are tucked in my pockets

Fancy editions of my poems, are packed in the case

Giant airports and planes abound

Hot cross buns, and more chocolates are eaten

Inspiring my week’s holiday mood

Jet engines soaring aloft

Kidnapping me by default

Lawyers left floundering

My medical records lost in transit

Naughty nightingales, again covering for me

Opening my doorways, to the promised land

Passing high above the melody, at heaven’s archway

Quarantine played, Leonard’s Tower Of Song

Rumblings, I hear from a distant Bensalem yard

Spiritual chants, from my family circle

Telepathic messages, humming on a magic carpet ride

Unbroken my promise, now to be honoured

Vikings and villains to be avoided

Weapons disguised, under the statues torch of liberty

Xylophones I hear, playing on the streets of New York

Young ladies are dancing to my tune, Hallelujah

Zero-ground, salutes me there, staying upside down






Ivor Steven (c) May 2022

My River Flows, is up at Coffee House Writers Magazine

Hello dear readers and followers, as you may know, I now write for “Coffee House Writers” magazine on a fortnightly basis, and my poem“My River Flows”, 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/my-river-flows/


My River Flows

I am emotionally torn today
Ten years since my lady was lowered away

Nostalgic memories hit me
But fears do not haunt me
Clouds of the past engulf me
But tears do not flood me

My writing desk is in disarray
I wonder
Would she approve of me today

Regretful feelings within me
But fears do not consume me
Shadows of the future scare me
But tears do not drown me

As my river of life
Flows upstream towards my wife






Ivor Steven (c) May 3rd 2022

Throwback Friday, Waiting Time, by Ivor Steven

Readers who follow my blog site would know that I attended an Ekphrastic Poetry Workshop during the week, and my poem here today is from a previous Ekphrastic workshop that I went to, in September 2018

Go Dog Go Café

Readers who follow my blog site would know that I attended an Ekphrastic Poetry Workshop during the week, and my poem here today is from a previous Ekphrastic workshop that I went to, in September 2018

Above is the Chapbook published by Geelong Writers, and the magnificent painting by Graeme Altmann, that inspired my poem ‘Waiting Time’

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) Sept…

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