Next year, after Easter
I’m flying north
Across a vast ocean
Towards a place called America
From the west to the east coast
Landing at the big apple
Taking a small bite, five days
Then a train from Grand Central Station
For a debut meeting with my cousins in Philadelphia
My Dad’s far away relatives
I shall rejoice in the reunion our family’s spirits
Oh yes, the dream of my lifetime
A fortuity beyond the realms of my imagination
Ivor Steven (c) 2018
Hello dear readers, friends, family and followers. Sorry I’ve not been around to all my fellow bloggers on WP, with my usual diligence and zest. As most of you might know, I had a 6 week stay in hospital, resting and recovering. However I’ve been keeping myself busy, in between nanna-naps, preparing my new booklet of poems. I’ve just finished the manuscript (Phew and yeah !!), and this one is called, “Tullawalla: “Waiting Time”, and of course along with the other 5 booklets, all money’s that I collect from the sale of these booklets goes to the Geelong MS Charity Shop. The list of my 6 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
And, Tullawalla, Waiting Time
And I’m happy to say that I’ve now learnt how to print on both sides of the pages, thus halving my mailing costs for anyone interested in purchasing, for the price of postage and plus a donation for the MS shop. I have a PayPal account, to make payments easier.
Booklet #6: Tullawalla, Waiting Time
Cheers
From Ivor xx
Dawn Eyes: A Dual Haiku
Dawn eyes remain shut
Tiredness consuming my head
The birds are quiet
Eyes wide, looking up
I feel the ceiling crush down
Heavy sheets, like lead
Ivor Steven (c) 2018
Hello dear readers, the poem below was originally hand written 2 weeks ago, during my stay in Isolation, and It was up on my Isolation Room’s Whiteboard, so I’ve decided to type up the poem, with a few minor changes and present the words again here today.
Your sky above
My sea below, our air in between
A cloudless dream
Floating on a gentle stream
Drifting across flat shiny pebbles
Emitting flat parallel beams
Carrying visions of hope
Hope for future scope
Time, to be wiped clean
Cleansed by soothing rain
Revealing warm sunshine again
Warm sun-rays, instead of dead X-rays
Removing yesterday’s old creams
Finding today’s new dreams
Ivor Steven (c) 2018
I’m honoured and humbled, by this glorious poem written by my dear friend Walt, The Tennessee Poet, please have a look at some of his down to earth poems.
This is dedicated to my dear friend and brother in poetry,
Ivor.Plumber/Poet. Ivor lost the love of his life Carole a few
years ago after she lost her battle with severe MS for
over 30 years. Ivor was Carole’s primary caregiver during
her illness and most of his poetry has been about her.
Please visit Ivor’s blog at https://ivors20.wordpress.com/
He misses her so much
His heart feels like it’s breaking
Everything he does
Everywhere he goes
Reminds him of her
He lives in a house of memories
And wonders when his pain will end
So many years together
Caring for each other
Caring for her as her illness worsened
As he sits alone now with his memories
Everything he does
Reminds him of her
So he turns to his writing
And picks up his pen
He knows she is watching
From Heaven above
And the words flow like love notes
View original post 15 more words
I’m out of isolation
Home tomorrow afternoon
I’m as weak as a kitten
That’s been chased and bitten
I’m as tired as Leonard after his last song
My recovery shall be slow and long
I’m sure to need lots more rest
And there’s more examinations and tests
Over the next six weeks
But I’ll keep writing and giving cheek
Ivor Steven (c) 2018
Relaxing here in solitary
Looking out towards my left
I see the old Geelong Cement silo’s
At the top end of Autumn street
Three kilometres away
As the crow flies
The crow, flies outside my window
Below he hovers, above Autumn street
Ironically the street where we lived
For our entire thirty-eight years together
I’m nostalgic about every year
Reminiscing, and yes, I’m full of tears
Tears of liquid joy
Joy of togetherness, for so many years
And our old crow was always there
Perched in our lemon tree
Every morning the crow would sing tō us
Sing his ancient tunes
His tunes of memories and rhymes
Ivor Steven (c) 2018
“Hello dear pillow”
“You’re so kind and soft to my head”
I said to my fluffy white pillow
I recall, similar words being said
Years ago, when I was young
Talking to my backyard willow-tree
Hugging the grand old trunk
And saying to the tree
“Hello dear willow”
“You’re so kind, to let me climb you”
Ivor Steven (c) 2018
Haiku
Solitary, thank you to Sue of Nan’s Farm, for inspiring me to write this instant Haiku. Featured Image above, my window in the centre, level seven, room 5.
Four walls surround me
Isolation inundates
Permeates my head
Ivor Steven (c)
I’m digging a tunnel
With my ball and chain
Underneath the great wall
Towards the east side of the moon
Away from these wasted days
Beyond the drain of pain
My eyes search for a light
Through my grotto’s ceiling crack
Resolutely my heart yells at me
“There’s no turning back”
Fingers are bloodied
Toes are blistered
My throat is parched
Lips are sweat covered with dirt
I’m desperate for the evening rain
And a cooling breeze
Fresh upon my old crusty skin
I’m to meet a mystic Arab
Cloaked in cloth of indigo blue
He’s been sent by Muhammad to save me
Burst me free, and find my lost kin
Ivor.Plumber/Poet 