The Harmony Of This Man

Here is the music I was playing/listening to, while writing the poem this morning. The poem was written from a collection of notes scribbled down, depicting my dream during the night. Also, there’s another video attached below my poem


The Harmony Of This Man


I’ve spent the last two days

Printing and sorting photos from my trip

A journey, to the edge of faraway dreams

Placing today’s images, from my heart

Into this collectors photo album

I experienced tremors of joy

And I cried rivers of happy emotions

My hands will never be empty again

They shall forever carry these memories

From the enchanting land of distant families

I’ll now hold their trust in my palms

Knowing the true values of their clan


Early morning, I’m already playing my music

Listening to rhythmical sounds, herald the dawn

In time with the beat of my pulsating adrenaline

My erratic pencil scribbles notes

I have to write hurriedly

To capture this moments magical tone

That euphoria of my mind’s ecstasy

Moving feelings, of this life’s eventual peace

My visions achieved, now living within me

I’ve taken years to learn the harmony of this man



Ivor Steven (c)  June 2019



Time To Give A Hand

Again, thank you to “Go Dog Go Cafe” for the opportunity to post my poem, on their fabulous initiative, Promote Yourself Mondays, and especially to Gina, of ‘Singledust’, for her ongoing support of my writings…. click >> Here

Time To Give A Hand


Do you know this man

Small in stature, with a wavering hand

It takes a lot to know this man

In the cold, I’ve been running on wet sand

Rushing to forward money to the local charity stand

Coin I’d gathered from distant poetry lands

And the booklets that flew, over oceans and Central Park bands

Collected from generous readers, who donated to our M.S. brand


Heavy rain’s soaking me, and it’s bleak

I’m feeling unsteady on my freezing feet

There’s a nearby cafe to shelter out of the sleet

A warm and cosy eatery on Pakington street

Rewarding myself to a lunchtime treat

In the Red Radish Cafe, I have soup, Celery and silver-beet

Tiffany greets me, takes my coat, offers me a seat

Then I recite to her, ‘Dreams Of The Heart’, my day is replete



Ivor Steven (c)  June 2019


Haven’t Seen You For A While

I’m keeping the celebrations up, of my two years here on WordPress. Here’s another one of my earliest poems, which was originally written seven years ago, but first posted on my blog,  June 8th 2017.

Haven’t Seen You For A While  


Woke up dreaming of your petite smile.

And pondering, I haven’t seen you for a while.

That generous grin, making you so cute.

So pleasing, and so alluring, seems to suit.

Dreaming of your grace and gorgeous style.

And thinking, I haven’t seen you for a while.

The glow on your face, reminiscing sweet things.

A silky smooth body, with all it’s offerings.

Dreaming of your thighs, where the harp sings.

And sensing, I haven’t seen you for a while.

The sweat of our loving, a distant past.

‘Twas pure lust, sharing to the last.

Dreaming of your love, and more tender scenes.

And realising, I haven’t seen you for a while.


Please take the time to listen to Damien Rice, sing and play live, this amazing version of his song “I Remember”


Ivor Steven (c)  2018

Hallelujah, A Song He Played For Me


Hallelujah, A Song He Played For Me (Thanks Terry)

I’m relaxing here in the city square

Enjoying the simple things in life

Eating fresh fruit for lunch

Feeding the local seagulls

Watching people, passing by, going to and fro

Not everyone is stopping to see the show

Listening to my friend playing the blues

At this chilly outdoor venue

There’s others too, lazing on the wet ground

Soaking up his musical sounds

Guitar strumming, and a loud tenor voice

He’s singing Leonard’s Hallelujah, my choice

I’m emotional, but that’s me

Resting here under a winter tree

Gentle drops of rain, drizzle upon the calm

But that doesn’t dampen his enthusiasm or charm

Syd and Shirley seagull stand entranced

And the young ones are starting to dance

Ivor Steven (c) June 2019

It Was On The Tip Of My Tongue

I awoke unexpectedly

Suddenly the mind had kicked in

My cogs were grinding and searching

Seeking that lost memory inside me head

That annoying buzz has been bugging me

Teasing me about that location

That place I couldn’t remember

The name was on the tip of my tongue yesterday*


But recalling that name had eluded me

Three o’clock in the morning

My eyes are wide open

Old cloudy visions, are now clearing

Up there, in bright neon lights

Of course, that’s the missing name

And my brain is not dead

Answer solved, back to sleep for my head


  • * The name that was on the tip of my tongue was a place in Philadelphia, called the Reading Terminal Market, I’ll attach a Link here


Iver Steven (c)  June 2019

Birds Of A Feather

The Midweek Word Prompt is : Humour  . Here, I’ve attempted a piece of sarcastic humour, in my poem about, the human’s unusual skin pigments.

And a big thank you To V.J. Knutson, with her poem “Even Colourless, Still A Flower”, being the source of my inspiration behind my poem today

Birds Of A Feather


to colour us all tanned

black or white

didn’t seem right

even a humorous sight

maybe blue and green

would’ve been a better blight

and I’ve been told orange

is a preferred skin tone

best we have more colours

I’ll go buy the paint drums

toss them together

shaken, not stirred

into one huge cocktail dish

and use a whale-hair paint brush

we’ll all be covered the same

a faded colour purple

like tarnished rain clouds

not too dark

not too proud

not too white

just bright enough

to see the light


Please Note: The featured image above, is called ‘Four Birds’, by an Australian artist, Patsy Anguburra Lulpunda, at the Aboriginal Art Gallery


Ivor Steven (c)  June 2019