An Old Plumber, An Ex-Carer, An Amateur Poet, Words From The Heart
Author: ivor20
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.
I've been blogging for over 2 years, and writing poems for 19 years. Of course a lot of my poems are about my favourite subject Carole, but since I've been blogging my writings have become quite varied, humourous, mystical, observational, and even a few monster/horror poems.
Featured Image Above:In the last light of day, even a weakened sun can show how much of our shared humanity has slipped away.
Hello, dear readers and followers. I contribute to Coffee House Writers magazine (USA) every second week, and I’m delighted to share that my latest poem,“A Fistful of Sand,” appears in the new issue. You can read it by following the link below. >> A Fistful of Sand – Coffee House Writers
Bathed in soft morning light, this bright sunflower greeted me today — lifting my spirits and reminding me how instinctively nature leans toward renewal.
My Sunflower(aTanka)
Good morning sunshine Your yellow blush warms my heart And restores my faith In humanity’s instinct To revive our tired planet
Featured Image Above: Created by Copilot and me. “A circling flock of Corellas rises beyond the golden eye — twilight’s quiet lantern.”
Over at Weekly Prompts, it’s time for the One Day Prompt.To visit their fabulous site, please click >> Here I’ve used a bit of ‘poetic license,’ and only got as far as“One”without the “Day.”
Beyond the Golden Eye
Tonight’s fluorescent twilight sky is strikingly dominated by one enchanting golden eye.
The illustrious iris silhouettes The horizon’s sleepy statuettes,
and a circling flock of Corellas looks like an inverted umbrella, full of luminous candelas.
Today’s Throwback Friday poem (originally written in May 2023) is drawn from my upcoming book, Time Hears No Sound. It appears as the opening poem in Chapter 8, War: A Waste of Time
“And I have carried on this war. Though no one wins an endless fight. I have claimed that God has guided me. And killed to prove I’m right.” Lyrics from Damien Rice’s song, “What if I’m wrong.”
Between Lines, Who Holds the Power
Do you see – a man walking on water? Did you see – his feet were bleeding? Do you read – the missing scriptures? Did you read – your own family tree? Do you hear, speechless angels, singing? Did you hear – the songbirds crying?
Do you feel – the erased wars calling? Did you feel – the hard rains falling? Do you know – the ones who are lying? Did you know, the refugees are dying?
“What If I’m Wrong”, Lyrics, by Damien Rice
I could wrestle with tomorrow Until tomorrow’s in the past Because I have torn apart what’s beautiful To prove that nothing lasts I have stayed locked behind these doors To show there’s no way out I got lost within the space between The question and the doubt I have built a wall between
What I believed and what is true I have sacrificed the love I had For power over you
I have convicted those who disagree And walked over the weak I have placed a gun within the mouth Of those who dared to speak
And on an ordinary day In an ordinary way I have crushed the minds of children With extraordinary shame
And I have carried on this war Though no one wins an endless fight I have claimed that God has guided me And killed to prove I’m right
What if I’m wrong What if I’m wrong What if I’m wrong What if I’m wrong
Is this soul worth saving at all? Cause if I lose my wings then surely I must fall And the gods prayed to the gods they made
We could wrestle with tomorrow until tomorrow’s in the past We could tear apart what’s beautiful To prove that nothing lasts
We could stay locked behind the doors To show there’s no way out We could get lost within the space between The question and the doubt
Photos FromOur Time in Booktown. Friday afternoon Was set‑up time for both the Bookstall Vendors and the Food Vendors — a quiet buzz of preparation before the weekend unfolded.
Saturday: Was all about settling in and getting to know our fellow book vendors in Marquee T — Robert, Janette, Suzanne & Karen, Collin, and Lynette.
Although officially “T”, we were affectionately nicknamed the Zombie Marquee, thanks to Robert’s eye‑catching banner at the entrance.
Of course, my assistant salesman was the true star attraction of my bookstall.
Down at ground level, under the tables, Frankie and the little girl next door — tucked beneath her dad’s table of books — became fast friends.
Every now and then, we wandered through the festival to soak up the wonderful carnival atmosphere.
There was dancing in the streets, violin music drifting from a balcony, giant book readers roaming about, and even Larry the Lizard slithered into our tent to say hello.
Ivor.Plumber/Poet 