Glass Slippers and a Yellow Taxi

Last night, I misplaced my glass slippers

When the golden chariot, turned into a yellow taxi

And I had no faerie godmother to guide me

She was riding her whale, and had drifted out to sea

 

My recital evening, wandered through crystal glee

Recalling live music, and chalices of cheer

The singer Tennyson, finished and noticed me

After a warm handshake, we talked about being free

And discovered, we mutually liked the band ‘Dirty Three’

Then I exchanged, a Tullawalla poetry booklet, for his CD

 

Thank you to Tennyson King and his bass guitarist James, for giving of their time, and being genuinely friendly. During our conversation, I found out he’s a Canadian, from Toronto, on a 3 month tour of Australia.

 

And below a song from ‘Dirty Three’, that maybe I’ve not posted here before…

Ivor Steven (c)  Nov 2019

Ripples Of Inconsiderateness

Today’s Weekly Word Prompt is: Inconsiderateness…… Rather than complain about the neighbours untidy yard and car wrecks in the driveway, I’ve written a poem about Mother Nature’s attitude to our Australian Weather at the moment. For readers that might not be aware, vast areas of New South Wales and Queensland are dry and hot, and currently being ravaged by horrific bushfires,… while here, down south in Victoria, we are experiencing an unseasonal wet and cold spring…. yes, mother-nature is being fickle and very inconsiderate at the moment. To all of those who are suffering from the terrible firestorms in their areas, we are praying for relieving rains to come soon…. To visit the “Weekly Word Prompt’s”, fabulous site please click >>HERE

Ripples Of Inconsiderateness

 

Today, an arctic wind blows

I’ve winter socks on my toes

Spring’s forgotten to fill our garden barrow

Cold rains are still falling on the meadows

And on the ranges, there’s new snow

Here, the ripples on the bay steeply grow

Shoreline sands, are stinging airborne ammo

Our midday sun, did fail to show

Like a ship’s stowaway, hiding in the cargo

He’ll be found warming himself in Moscow

It’s time to unload our winter crossbow

Give summer a turn, to be the star of the show

 

 

Ivor Steven (c)  Nov 2019

Climbing Each Stair

Life’s edges are not always square

The world’s big and round out there

We’re surrounded by free air

Enough for everyone to share

 

Inhale deeply, when climbing each stair

Jump across, yesterday’s broken earthenware

There will always be another thoroughfare

Wandering up, to grandma’s rocking chair

 

 

Ivor Steven (c)  Nov 2019

Wind and Fire

Surrounded by glowing lioness eyes, our planet spins

An orb of soil, oceans and wild winds

We breathe, the air from her magical trees

Consume food, pollinated by her busy bees

Then the ground is watered by our sky’s spasmodic rains

Requiring the hot sun to grow our grains

 

However earth’s perennial droughts, advance beyond our care

Leaving trees and pastures, vulnerably dry and threadbare

Thor’s furious thunder clouds, swiftly flash and glare

Forest fires explode, abruptly becoming our worst nightmares

Fiercely eyeing, fauna and farms, not to be spared

There’s no mercy, from mother-nature’s open warfare

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ivor Steven (c)  Nov 2019

Between The Lines

Hello dear readers, I’m not sure what I was trying to say in my poem here, “Between The Lines”. The words were a quick response to a Prompt, from Pattimouse >> ‘Erase the lines’  https://pattimouse.wordpress.com/2019/11/07/day-7-prompts/    and I’ve basically left the words the same. I suppose they are questions and thoughts that were tumbling around in my mind at that time, and here they are !!

Between The Lines

 

Do you see, a man walking on water?

Did you see, the refugees bleeding?

Do you read, the missing scriptures?

Did you read, your own family tree?

Do you hear, old angels singing?

Did you hear, the songbirds crying?

Do you feel, hard rain falling?

Did you feel, the erased lines calling?

Do you know, who is doing the lying?

Did you Know, the earth is dying?

 

Ivor Steven (c)  Nov 2019

 

Violin Strings (Revised)

Today’s poem, is a piece I originally wrote in June 2017, and the words were influenced by Leonard Cohen’s song, “Show Me The Place”, and this being the 3rd anniversary of his passing, I thought it an appropriated week to re-post my poem. I’ve slightly revised the poem, but overall the meaning of my words have stayed intact..   The Featured Image above, is scanned copy from, “The Wordless Songbook, Leonard Cohen, by George A. Walker, page/113, (A book, in my personal library)

Violin Strings

 

I’m singing a song, about you

Singing words, both wistful and true

From my heart to my soul, the veins

They’re as tight as violin strings

I needed you, to take my hand

Take my hand and show me the way

Show me the way, to a formal debut

Show me the way, into your dancing shoes

 

I needed you, to take my dreams

Take my dreams and show me how to behave

Show me the way, to your family home

Show me how to drink, from your holy grail

I needed you, to take my open heart

Take my heart and show me how to pray

Show me the way, into your world

Show me how to fly, in your milky-way

 

I needed you, to write some heavenly notes

Take my violin and show me how to play

Show me the way, to your harp’s wings

Show me the way, into your tunes

But in the end, you took my heartstrings

Then you burnt my soulful lines

Melting my broken violin

Into unplayable, twisted strings