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.
A glorious day was had by all yesterday, at one Australia’s biggest multicultural events. These days the festival is organised by Diversitat and has grown into Victoria’s largest free multi-arts and cultural party. Some things remain the same. Pako is about community and is led by community. The event celebrates and highlights the extraordinary contribution of individuals, cultural groups and multicultural communities in Geelong and across Australia. During the day, over 100,000 people attended, 5,000 people took part in the street parade and 10,000 people performed on five stages. I managed to take a few photos that may give you an idea of the friendly atmosphere enjoyed by the huge crowd
I was catching a bus home this afternoon, as per normal, after my walk down Pakington St. However, mistakenly I caught the wrong bus !! I looked up, and I did not see the sign. In the long process of hopping on a couple of different buses, I eventually found my way home. During my time of the extra bus trips, I came up with the words of this poem.
Sorry, We Caught The Wrong Bus
Is this the air I breathe
A misty haze out in front of me
Is this the sky I see
A big smoggy Vee
High in the mountain plains, flowerless, without bees
Miles of burnt-out wasteland and no trees
Beyond the eroded soils, there’s the earth’s oceans
Mercury settled deep, with a topping of dead fish by the millions
I wrote this poem last night, when I woke up at 1.30am. The featured image above, is looking up at the Geelong hills north of the town, they are called the “You Yangs”. I suppose my poem below is about, how our politicians, should look up , to see what’s coming down on their heads. This post is for the Weekly Prompt, Photo Challenge: Up <<Click on, to view The Weekly Prompt site…..
Feeding Them Up On Bullets Instead
How hard must we hit the nail
On their heads
Before the white house wooden hearts
Finally count the living-dead
How hard does the rain have to fall
On their heads
Before the farmer’s empty buckets
Only fill via tears from the living-dead
How hard shall the sunshine burn
On their heads
Before the number of extinct birds
Light-up the dark gap between government heads
How hard do crumbling icebergs break
On their heads
Before both polar ice-caps melt
Flooding our storage silos and sheds
The answer my friends, rests
On their heads
Before all the starving arise from earthen beds
Crying out, stop feeding us up on bullets instead
Words, Between the Lines Of Age . Neil Young. Lyrics
Someone and someone were down by the pond
Looking for something to plant in the lawn.
Out in the fields they were turning the soil
I’m sitting here hoping this water will boil
When I look through the windows and out on the road
They’re bringing me presents and saying hello.
Singing words, words between the lines of age.
Words, words between the lines of age.
If I was a junk-man selling you cars,
Washing your windows and shining your stars,
Thinking your mind was my own in a dream
What would you wonder and how would it seem?
Living in castles a bit at a time
The king started laughing and talking in rhyme.
Singing words, words between the lines of age.
Words, words between the lines of age.
Ivor.Plumber/Poet 