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.

Tullawalla: Booklet #8

 

Hello dear readers, friends, and followers. I’ve been in and out of hospital again, but hopefully I’ll be able stay out for a while now, and my progress is improving everyday. I’m keeping myself busy, bike pedalling (On Yorkie) exercise sessions and walking 6000 steps a day, In between, I’ve been preparing my new booklet of poems. I’ve just finished the manuscript (Phew and yeah !!), and this one is called, “Tullawalla: “Beyond The Brick Wall”, metaphorically that’s where I am at now, and all the poems were written since Christmas, after my first stroke in Mid-December.  Like my other 7 Booklets, all money’s that I collect from the sale of these booklets goes to the Geelong MS Charity Shop. The list of my 8 booklets is below. These booklets are all printed here in my little writing studio/haven, put together by hand, and they’re a foolscap size folder of 21 pages and 40 poems in each booklet

Tullawalla, Poems, By Ivor Steven                                                                                   Tullawalla, A Sign Of The Times                                                                                               Tullawalla, The Waves Say Goodbye                                                                                     Tullawalla, Who’s Left To Row The Boat                                                                        Tullawalla, Home Is The Air I Breathe                                                                            Tullawalla, Waiting Time                                                                                                  Tullawalla, The Healing House

And, Tullawalla, Beyond The Brick Wall

 

 

 

 

Booklet #5: Home Is The Air I Breathe                      Booklet #6: Waiting Time

 

 

Booklet #7: Tullawalla, The Healing House          My “Isolation Time”

 

And, Booklet#8: Tullawalla, Beyond The Brick Wall               My front door.

 

 

Cheers

From Ivor xx

 

My Courtyard Fence

The Weekly Prompt, Photo prompt is : Fences..  Across the road from my home, there’s a large housing development, under construction with a high wire fence around the site. It’s in vast contrast to my private little yard here. I’m on my exercise bike, Yorkie, pedalling away and looking around at my courtyard fence. I’m wondering, how I got this far and how I arrived at this place, jumping all of life’s tall fences on my to journey  here. On my courtyard fence hangs so many memories, and it takes me back to when I wrote a poem, of when life was extraordinarily hard and I felt the end was near, it was just after  I had my first Stroke eighteen years ago, and I couldn’t jump “This Fence”<< Click to view the Weekly Prompt’s site

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This Fence

I am quickly nearing this fence.
An obstacle of a lifetime I see.
And from my side of this fence,
The hurdle is too high for me.
And on the other side of this fence,
There seems nowhere to land or flee.

I have arrived at this fence,
Above the pickets, just grey sky.
And on my side of this fence,
The grass is brown and dry.
On the other side of this fence,
The grass is green, but still I cry.
How am I to clear this fence,
There seems nowhere to go, or get by.

This fence, all built of stones,
Breaks my spirit, and all my bones.

 

Ivor Steven (c)  2019

Pako Festa In The Sun

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

 

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Ivor Steven (c)  2019

Sorry, We Caught The Wrong Bus

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

 

Is this black bitumen I walk on

Long oily tar, rolled out by the ton

Is this real water I drink

Manufactured I sip, on my knees I do sink

 

Mother nature, please forgive us

We did not know, sorry, we caught the wrong bus

 

Ivor Steven (c)  2019

 

 

To Kiss The Sea

A sincere thank you to Efi, of EfiSoul63, << please click, to view her site, for being the inspiration behind my poem, and our mutual love of the sea

To Kiss The Sea

 

I wish to be at the beach and free

Saltwater and sand are out of reach for me

Oh, to be sunbathing and swimming

To be in the surf, playing and frolicking

I’m close enough to breathe the nearness of the sea

Just across the sand dunes and through the tea-tree

 

I wish to be under the sea

Rolling with the waves crashing above me

Swirling and unfurling

Bubbling and frothing

I’m close enough to hear the evening sea-mist

Just outside my window, I feel the bliss of the sea’s kiss

Ivor Steven (c) 2019

A Tree To Breathe And See

Dig and smash

Turn-over and break

Do the digging again

More bashing and crashing

Split up the lumps

Turn-over and over

Beat the hard pieces finer

Crush the broken dirt, if you must

Water the soil, and then feed

Rotate again, and again

Until the patch is pliable and moist

Come back tomorrow

Or even the next day, on trust

The garden spot is ready

For a tree to be planted

A gift to mother nature’s life

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Ivor Steven (c)  2019

Paper Tigers

The poet’s studio, is now the little litter part of my bedroom

A paper tiger’s haven, has become a messy grotto

I mean to roar it’s, uncomfortably untidy

Pieces of paper and cardboard kites

Scatter the room like confetti

Autumn leaves of the old poet’s pen

Scribbled words yet to be encoded

Foolscap overwritten and smudged

Out-lined by white-out corrections

Undefined and unlisted

Out of focus and twisted

Upside down and inside out

Uncategorized to the extreme

My disorganised dreamscape’s haven,

Looking like a moonscape’s junkyard

Here the poet’s rustic pen has been the ruler

Showing no regard for my bedroom’s demeanour

Three months since the mighty sword has cleaned-up

Blarney and Baloney, I do confess

I’m sleeping covered in my hurdy gurdy verses

I cannot see under these printed alien addresses

It’s time, to dispel my dream’s curses

Free myself of all wasted jabberwocky guilt

Let my alien poetry regenerate and begin anew

 

Ivor Steven (c)  2019