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.
Yep a photo of my little laundry, untouched, on this sunny Sunday morning, and below, if I had done the washing, is a photo of my clothes line under my Verandah, my laundry day didn’t happen. My Saturday night’s over indulgence has developed into a Sunday morning hangover, and my dirty washing will be still there again on Monday !! Monday often becomes my laundry day……… and also below, a few words I wrote this morning instead of doing the washing, yes, definitely a lot more fun, and far more comforting for this self-inflicted headache of mine…….
I’ve been listening to The Waterboys songs lately, their lyrics are meaningful and their music is always dramatic. In this following piece of mine I’ve used 18 of their song Titles as the foundation for my poem. To other Waterboys fans who read this post, I hope my words have done The Waterboys the justice they deserve, by all their glorious songs. For those readers, and me, who are struggling with the italics and too many capital letters, below at the bottom of the post, is an easy reading version.
The combined Trumpets of the world are sounding
Being carried on today’s Lonesome Old Wind
Resonating loudly for The Stolen Child
And Choirs are singing The Faery’s Last Song
Where did their promise go, and there’s no Sweet Thing in sight
Will the children get to view The Whole Of The Moon again
When will they ever cry out, “This Is The Sea”
Searching for their parents, crying “Where Are You Now When I Need You”
Children crawling Down Through The Dark Streets
Cowering under black clouds and Purple Rain
In A Pagan Place, created by governments
Shamefully they have Let It Happen
Our leaders need a wake-up call And A Bang On The Ear
When will they tell us “The Healing Has Begun”
We Will Not Be Lovers anymore, until
They declare to the last refugee girl, “She Is So Beautiful”
Let us hope the children suffer no Red Army Blues
And need not worry about being Too Close To Heaven
A big thank you to my friend Chris Black of, A way with words. for inspiring me to write another one these poems using song titles, the last one I wrote was on December 2nd 2017. https://ivors20.wordpress.com/2017/12/02/where-have-all-the-good-times-gone-2/
The Waterboys Lyrics
“Down Through The Dark Streets”
Down by old house
Over the bridge
Down through the dark streets
Where we used to live
Out by the cornfield
And the sycamore trees
Down to the water
Will you come, Lassie please?Snow in the town square
December afternoon
Christmas lights
A crescent moon
A boy selling chestnuts
Roasted and brown
Dropping black cinders
That hiss on the ground
You and I stand like strangers
In our Hokusai clothes
Like we come from some strange country
That nobody else knows
And to go where the wind blows
Are just the words of thieves
So will you come with me, Lassie
Will you come Lassie, please?There’s a place there by the river
I never showed you before
But when I’m far away
That’s where I go
Outside it’s lamplight
High time we leave
Winter-a-borning
Will you come Lassie, please?The big blue sea between us
Is thousands of miles
It’s cruel I know
But you just have to smile
I’d be back for you
If I could just believe
That everything is right and pure
That everything is right and pure
That everything is right and pure
Will you come, Lassie, please?
The Dark Streets
The combined trumpetsof the world are sounding
Being carried on today’s lonesome old wind
Resonating loudly for the stolen child
And Choirs are singing the Faery’s last song
Where did their promise go, and there’s no sweet thingin sight
Will the children get to view the whole of the moonagain
When will they ever cry out, “This Is The Sea”
Searching for their parents, crying “Where Are You Now When I Need You”
Children crawling down through the dark streets
Cowering under black clouds and purple rain
In a pagan place,created by governments
Shamefully they have let it happen
Our leaders need a wake-up call and a bang on the ear
When will they tell us “The Healing Has Begun”
We will not be loversanymore, until
They declare to the last refugee girl, “She Is So Beautiful”
Let us hope the children suffer no red army blues
And need not worry about being too close to heaven
I’ve been listening to The Waterboys songs lately, their lyrics are meaningful and their music is always dramatic. In this following piece of mine I’ve used 18 of their song Titles as the foundation for my poem. To other Waterboys fans who read this post, I hope my words have done The Waterboys the justice they deserve, by all their glorious songs. For those readers, and me, who are struggling with the italics and too many capital letters, below at the bottom of the post, is an easy reading version.
The combined Trumpets of the world are sounding
Being carried on today’s Lonesome Old Wind
Resonating loudly for The Stolen Child
And Choirs are singing The Faery’s Last Song
Where did their promise go, and there’s no Sweet Thing in sight
Will the children get to view The Whole Of The Moon again
When will they ever cry out, “This Is The Sea”
Searching for their parents, crying “Where Are You Now When I Need You”
Children crawling Down Through The Dark Streets
Cowering under black clouds and Purple Rain
In A Pagan Place, created by governments
Shamefully they have Let It Happen
Our leaders need a wake-up call And A Bang On The Ear
When will they tell us “The Healing Has Begun”
We Will Not Be Lovers anymore, until
They declare to the last refugee girl, “She Is So Beautiful”
Let us hope the children suffer no Red Army Blues
And need not worry about being Too Close To Heaven
A big thank you to my friend Chris Black of, A way with words. for inspiring me to write another one these poems using song titles, the last one I wrote was on December 2nd 2017. https://ivors20.wordpress.com/2017/12/02/where-have-all-the-good-times-gone-2/
The Waterboys Lyrics
“Down Through The Dark Streets”
Down by old house
Over the bridge
Down through the dark streets
Where we used to live
Out by the cornfield
And the sycamore trees
Down to the water
Will you come, Lassie please?Snow in the town square
December afternoon
Christmas lights
A crescent moon
A boy selling chestnuts
Roasted and brown
Dropping black cinders
That hiss on the ground
You and I stand like strangers
In our Hokusai clothes
Like we come from some strange country
That nobody else knows
And to go where the wind blows
Are just the words of thieves
So will you come with me, Lassie
Will you come Lassie, please?There’s a place there by the river
I never showed you before
But when I’m far away
That’s where I go
Outside it’s lamplight
High time we leave
Winter-a-borning
Will you come Lassie, please?
The big blue sea between us
Is thousands of miles
It’s cruel I know
But you just have to smile
I’d be back for you
If I could just believe
That everything is right and pure
That everything is right and pure
That everything is right and pure
Will you come, Lassie, please?
The Dark Streets
The combined trumpetsof the world are sounding
Being carried on today’s lonesome old wind
Resonating loudly for the stolen child
And Choirs are singing the Faery’s last song
Where did their promise go, and there’s no sweet thingin sight
Will the children get to view the whole of the moonagain
When will they ever cry out, “This Is The Sea”
Searching for their parents, crying “Where Are You Now When I Need You”
Children crawling down through the dark streets
Cowering under black clouds and purple rain
In a pagan place,created by governments
Shamefully they have let it happen
Our leaders need a wake-up call and a bang on the ear
When will they tell us “The Healing Has Begun”
We will not be loversanymore, until
They declare to the last refugee girl, “She Is So Beautiful”
Let us hope the children suffer no red army blues
And need not worry about being too close to heaven
I’m sitting at home this morning listening to the music of Xavier Rudd, and I’ll post two of songs with the lyrics below. Enjoy his words and his music, he’s an outstanding artist from my local area here, Geelong. Oh, yes, dear readers, the Plumber is going to work soon.
Xavier Rudd Lyrics
“Home”
Streets full of people
With trinkets to share
Offering them up for folks in despair
Yandi and crystals and oils for growth
Of spirit and body and mind as we go
Emphasis placed on the body and mind
The heart os often somewhere behind
Strange
Tiny little bones of the innocent child
Lookin’ up at me with the saddest of eyes
Is her innocence in tact?
Or has it been stained?
Has the creature that feeds her taken it away
Strange
So sad it’s strange
I recognize my health
Things I have been dealt
Places that I have roamed
Feelings I’ve had
Things that I know
Home, my home
Home, my home
Home, I’m home
Running through the bush
And all of the trees
Moving in time with my capable speed
Skippy ants claw
At the edge of the bowl
Of the shell of an egg
Of bird long since gone
Maybe it rose up
To spread it’s new wings
Or maybe it nourished
A stronger sibling
Strange
Places we roam
And people we meet
Some connections are strong
And some of them are weak
1 or 2 or 3 or 4
Or maybe 5 or 6 or more
Strong as the roots
Of a big old gum tree
And we’ll carry them through
To the next life we see
Strange
So beautifully strange
Recognize my health
Things that i have been dealt
Places that i have roamed
Feelings i’ve had
Things that i know
Imagine every whale was free to roam
Imagine if the trees could tell us where to go
Imagine that the sun could fill each lonely heart
Imagine confrontation never got a start
Imagine things were always crystal clear
Imagine if the mind never interfered
Imagine we could fly with broken wings
Imagine if the heart could shed its skin
Please patience please, patience please
I’m creating a dream
Please patience please, patience please
I’m creating a dream
Imagine sacred sites were left to be
Imagine if true activists controlled TV
Imagine Captain Watson had the final say
Imagine if industry just had to obey
Please patience please, patience please
I’m creating a dream
Please patience please, patience please
I’m creating a dream
Please patience please, patience please
I’m creating a dream
.
And there’s no Xavier Rudd music without listening to his magnificent classic “Spirit Bird”
This is such a brilliant idea and glorious initiative by a dear friend and fellow blogger, Colleen, of Chatter Blog. and so here is my creative post for the day.
Without insulting another human being, another culture, another country.
Above, my featured photograph, from today, a beautiful flowering Cyclamen in my fernery. Below a lovely piece of music, Hello, sang in Gaelic, by a 14 year-old girl, Shannon Bryan
Ivor.Plumber/Poet 