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.

He Was There, Back Then

Let me tell you how it is

It’s like this you see

*he sounded like the truth,

I know he’s not the truth today*

He was there

back then

I saw with my own eyes

Let me tell you how it is

It’s like this you see

…….

I’m here now

“Toot toot” I do stay

come out to me

don’t worry

I’ll never come in and see

you with your disability

I’ll hide behind my wheel

here in fear

I don’t want to feel

your loving smile

nor your gentle tears

…….

Let me tell you how it is

It’s like this you see

*He sounded like the truth

I know he’s not the truth today*

*These two lines* bear similarities of the two lines taken from Leonard Cohen’s song, It Seemed The Better Way.

“Sounded like the truth

But it’s not the truth today”

To All My Friends A Sincere Thank You

To Celebrate this wondrous occurrence, we shall play a Leonard Cohen song/poem (Of course). I’ve been blogging for only 10 months, and it’s all quite unbelievable for this little Plumber/Poet from Geelong. Thank you, one and all.

And as an added bonus, I’ve also achieved the grand sum of 200 posts, Oh, and how appropriate it be with a posting of a Leonard Cohen song, I’m truly humbled.

Teachers, Lyrics. By Leonard Cohen

I met a woman long ago her hair the black that black can go, Are you a teacher of the heart? Soft she answered no. I met a girl across the sea, her hair the gold that gold can be, Are you a teacher of the heart? Yes, but not for thee. I met a man who lost his mind in some lost place I had to find, follow me the wise man said, but he walked behind. I walked into a hospital where none was sick and none was well, when at night the nurses left I could not walk at all. Morning came and then came noon, dinner time a scalpel blade lay beside my silver spoon. Some girls wander by mistake into the mess that scalpels make. Are you the teachers of my heart? We teach old hearts to break. One morning I woke up alone, the hospital and the nurses gone. Have I carved enough my Lord? Child, you are a bone. I ate and ate and ate, no I did not miss a plate, well How much do these suppers cost? We’ll take it out in hate. I spent my hatred everyplace, on every work on every face, someone gave me wishes and I wished for an embrace. Several girls embraced me, then I was embraced by men, Is my passion perfect? No, do it once again. I was handsome I was strong, I knew the words of every song. Did my singing please you? No, the words you sang were wrong. Who is it whom I address, who takes down what I confess? Are you the teachers of my heart? We teach old hearts to rest. Oh teachers are my lessons done? I cannot do another one. They laughed and laughed and said, Well child, are your lessons done? are your lessons done? are your lessons done?

From Ivor, Geelong , Australia. Cheers To Everyone……

Imagine someone important to you sitting in this chair. What would you say to this person that you’ve NEVER SAID before?

The Sandbox Writing Challenge 2018 — Exercise 16 . Posted by calensariel in Blogging , of Impromptu Promptlings.

Sorry For You.

Sorry, I wasn’t always there for you.

I’m sorry for your life of misery.

I’m so sorry, for writing this unhappy story.

And I couldn’t find your holy grail.

That sacred cup of water to cure the frail.

Sorry I couldn’t help or heal you.

I’m sorry for your life being wrong.

I’m so sorry, for playing this wordless song.

And I couldn’t find your holy grail.

That sacred cup of wine to cure the frail.

Sorry I didn’t travel every path for you.

I’m sorry for your life’s that lost.

I’m so sorry, for holding this worthless cross.

And I couldn’t find your golden grail.

That sacred cup of blood to cure the frail.

Sorry I couldn’t be stronger for you.

I’m very sorry, for your world that couldn’t be.

I’m very sorry, for walking on an empty sea.

And I couldn’t find your silver grail.

The angels vessel of purity, to no avail.

An old poem I wrote, when I was feeling guilty about my capabilities as a carer. I’m posting here, and thinking someone in a similar situation may read these words. Please do not feel guilty or inadequate, you’re not failing, and there’s really only so much that is possible. You’re not alone in having these insecure feelings, and please understand, us carer’s all go through these self doubts and confusing thoughts.

Ivor Steven.

Tullawalla. The Booklet Series Of Poems.

I’ve finished self printing the third booklet in my series of my latest poems. “Tullawalla. The Waves Say Goodbye. Poems By Ivor Steven”. I’ve actually printed them off my own computer, for me to sell to family, friends and to all my plumbing clients that I happen to do a job for, haha, the booklet is part of my Client’s Account. All proceeds I directly donate to the Geelong MS Charity Shop. The previous two Booklets are, Tullawalla, and Tullawalla. A Sign Of The Times. The total amount of money I’ve raised over the years is well over $500 , and it’s a race to the magic $1000 before the end of the year !!

Dear Rapunzel

A fresh autumn dew

settles upon your browning leaves

stems are wilting and dying too.

I planted you too late

in a large terracotta pot

caringly watered and fed

eventually you grew

tall and climbing askew

groups of yellow flowers

producing bunches of fruit.

Dear Rapunzel tomatoe bush

you cropped me treats

delicious cherry-red bites

now your year is complete

mulched for next seasons heat.

Tit Bits #4

There’s a darkness within us all

waiting for a hidden call

It’s always the same

a shame

the blame game

that douse’s our flame

I’m a mere man

her glass jar

folds in my hand

released, her radiant star

On her wildest course

Mother earth is a true force

she’ll always be stronger

forgive her warranted anger

Like her lava flowing into the sea

her stormy green eyes melt me

The Secret Key

Do I stay, end up in a geriatric room

or do I fly away to the moon

Live in a cottage by the sea

surrounded by mountains and palm trees

I’ve hundreds of dreams to do

I could take a lady friend too

Marry and honeymoon at Niagara Falls

travel to China and walk the wall

See the sights at our National Park, Kakadu

take a spiritual tour of Kathmandu

Cruise the beautiful European rivers

or just globe-trot anywhere I please

What does the future hold for me

I’d like to be healthy and carefree

Writing poetry like the muse Melpomene

reciting to the world, about her secret key

Featured Image: Bing images, COGnitivecreations_guardianangel.jpg

The Sandbox Writing Challenge 2018 — Exercise 15, Tuesday 17th Apr 2018. Posted by calensariel in Blogging, Challenges, Prompts & Exercises, Reflections, Sandbox Writing Challenge 2018, Self-actualization, Uncategorized

If you could foresee one accomplishment in your future, what would you like it to be?

Her Secret Key.

Do I stay, end up in a geriatric room

or do I fly away to the moon

Live in a cottage by the sea

surrounded by mountains and palm trees

I’ve hundreds of dreams to do

I could take a lady friend too

Marry and honeymoon at Niagara Falls

travel to China and walk the wall

See the sights at our National Park, Kakadu

take a spiritual tour of Kathmandu

Cruise the beautiful European rivers

or just globe-trot anywhere I please

What does the future hold for me

I’d like to keep healthy and carefree

Writing poetry like the muse Melpomene

reciting to the world, about her secret key

Under The Snow

A special poem I wrote, after I’d taken my Lady to hospital for the last time, on the day of her last birthday. Happy Birthday Carole, and I wonder if you still wonder that I wonder.

Under The Snow.

We emanate to a birthday.

We deflate to a final day.

Birthdays, they all come, they all go.

Birthdays, in the sunshine, under the snow.

Birthdays, slow to mature, quickly an aeon.

Birthdays, before we are born, after we are gone.

Birthdays, hanging on by a breath.

Birthdays, nailed to a cross ’til death.

What’s it all mean to be alive and cry.

What’s it all mean to live and to die.

Do You Feel Her Shame

Do you feel her shame,

viewing my pain.

Left out again,

in the cold rain.

Do you sense my strain,

watching me drain.

More of the same,

in the cold rain.

Do you see her cry,

in her celestial sky.

Left out to dry,

in the cold she did die.

Do you feel her tears again,

sharing the blame.

I hold her shame,

in the cold rain.