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.

Red White And Blue

Featured Image:  Bing search, Red White And Blue: signalbrands.com — 818designco.com

 

I’m leaving the party

My friends have all gone

Standing alone

Holding an empty wine

Maybe it was red

I’m thinking a white

Stains on my shirt

A lipstick collar too

Cannot remember who

Blurry visions of

Red White and Blue

Time to shoot through

Before the morning dew

Pick-up my jacket and shoes

Tip toe out

Quiet as a mouse

Head for my house

If where, I only knew

And it’ll be the ‘Hour’ soon

To sing a psalm or two

And openly confess

My personal mess

There! Kneeling on the pew

I’m remembering who

She’s wearing last nights dress

Red White and Blue

 

A special mention to “Mel Gutier” and “Ward Clever”, for keeping me awake until 3.00am last night, and inspiring me to write these words. Also to Leonard Cohen’s song “Leaving The Table”

 

Ivor Steven (c)

Arctic Winds

A big thank you to Vita Brevis Magazine for selecting and publishing my poem “Arctic Winds”. I am truly honoured to be represented in this wonderful Magazine for poets, and to all my readers/followers, I sincerely recommend that you visit/follow the Vita Brevis site,
https://vitabrevisliterature.com.

Vita Brevis Press's avatarVita Brevis Press.

Submitted by Ivor Steven

I’m winter hibernating,

Inside an Eskimo’s hut.

Feeding only on fish oil,

And frozen blue blood.

My heart’s cold and dormant,

Cowering under a dampened vestment.

Pumping only yesteryears rust,

And icicles of my dust.

My eyes are swollen rocks,

Amidst polarized sockets.

Terrorizing all that’s passed,

Like forgotten arctic icebergs.

My veins are hollow crevasses,

Inside a glaciers ice-flow.

Sheering and groaning chasms,

Like my memories deepest fjord.

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Photo Credit: An Arctic Landscape At Dusk – Herman Herzog

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Let The Past Be Gone

The end of December, and January is near.

The bell tolls louder, and how perennially I jeer.

Those same old questions, and no answers, every year.

Annually dismayed, as new dawns disappear.

Let the past be gone, now that today’s here.

Let the future come, as I face tomorrows haunting fears.

 

Last years sins have been, and totally bygone.

The new year’s about to begin, could be right or wrong.

Next year’s eeriely hovering, and I anxiously worry far too long.

Knowingly waiting, for my angels mourning song.

Let the past be gone, vowed todays final word.

Let the future come, but tomorrow’s dying, I heard.

 

Ivor Steven  (c)

 

 

Afterlife

Why am I so adamant that I need to fight.

Feeling this chasm of pain every night.

Why am I so adolescent about my plight.

Longing for the love, the affection, of no-one in sight.

 

Why am I so uncertain within myself.

Desiring relief and a remedy for my health.

Why am I so sorry for my lost time on the shelf.

Pining after my souls drowned wealth.

 

Why am I still shaken, afraid of life.

Thinking there’s only loneliness without my wife.

Why am I still heartsick, pierced like a knife.

Wondering if there’ll ever be anymore afterlife.

 

Ivor Steven  (c)

“Afterlife” is an older poem of mine, and today I’ve revised and re-edited the words slightly.  The original poem was written in July 2012, and feeling in a reflective mood as the New Year approaches, I decided to post this version of the poem, from my past.

Time Travelers

Zap, a gigantic lightening bolt precedes a mystical power surge.

Traversing the cobalt skies, like horizontally sleek outriggers.

Vividly scoring chords to hang our every word on.

Like musical lines, writing out our lost dreams and regrets.

 

Sound-waves echoing, poles apart, going north, south, east and west.

Conducting iridescent lights over our purple and orange sunset.

Vibrating quasars, pulsating from deeply inside, outer-space.

Focusing towards the huge magnetic Receiving Dish, signalling “An Arrival”.

 

 

Recording a celestial traveler, singing with an angel’s voice.

Resonating sweetly, like Handel’s, Messiah Hallelujah Chorus.

Translated into our universal language of symphonic sound.

Digitally televised for the world’s population to simultaneously view.

 

The Super-Sonic Cosmic message to be heard loud and clear.

“We’ve returned to your degraded planet earth”.

“To again, bestow upon you, Peace And Goodwill”

“Like we’ve done before, Eons of Millenniums ago”

 

Ivor Steven  (c).

Bobby

A lovely poem and absolutely gorgeous Christmas song from my dear friend Jane, enjoy….

janebasilblog's avatarMaking it write

A soiled trouser leg
is tucked up beneath him, held down
by the weight of his ravaged body,
reminding me that I am one of the lucky ones
who have more than the average
quantity of legs.

His right foot
sits askew on the wheelchair’s footrest.
I straighten my back, as if to make up
for his crooked limb.

A paper bag
rests crumpled on his lap.
I think of fragrant Indian takeaways,
and of the free accompaniments my family receives
when we order a meal for all of us.

He grabs the bag with the eagerness of
a child on Christmas morning,
sliding down the banisters to join his parents
who grin beside a glittering tree,
eager to see his eyes lit by the thrilling surprise of a new bike
tied around with a wide blue ribbon.

He unscrews a cap and tips the bag
towards his cracked lips.

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River Of Destiny

Going to see that lady of Wizardry.

In the grey house of mystery.

Over the bridge, strong and earthy.

Finding my path to bravery.

Not to be judged lightly.

But cured for all eternity.

 

Bending, a bow to the Queen, so ghostly.

In the castle of life, so empty.

Far from again being carefree.

Finding my journey to longevity.

Not to be forlorn and angry.

But face friends and foe all calmly.

 

Searching to see her hidden beauty.

In the distant Abbey, so eerie.

Over the boundaries, through the valley.

Finding my river of destiny.

Not to be trialed for my sanity.

But unveiled, for all humanity.

 

Ivor Steven (c)