Photos – Page 220 – Ivor.Plumber/Poet

Yorkie And Me

Yorkie’s staring at me vacantly

Like I’m a strange tattooed bikie

Sitting on him, me anxiously crying away

Why am I crying, he quietly says

Looking at me with those big silver eyes

Pondering whether he’s hurting me

Is the ride too much pain

Is all the walking a physical drain

No !! None of that I exclaim, crying tears again

I’m crying wondering, if I’ll ever get there

Crying, because I cannot wait to be there

Crying with embarrassment, for the tears I’ll shed when I’m there

Suddenly, Yorkie barks out at me

Oh Ivor, keep pedalling, toughen-up and and you’ll arrive

Yes, me and my companion Yorkie, have become friends.

A Bike To New York

Come rain hail or shine

I’ll be ready for that Qantas Airline

Now I’ll always have time

To appear like I’m in my prime

I’ve a second-hand new toy

That’ll bring me pain and joy

Donated by a kind friend

Helping me get back on the mend

I’m fortunate and high as a purple kite

Under my verandah, I’ve a new silver bike

Lunch For Jiminy Cricket

I’m no Jiminy Cricket

Nor the flighty Tinkerbell

I’m far older than yesterday’s tadpole

And quieter than last night’s old frog

Time for me to venture out

Take a step into the unknown

Hobbling, I board the bus

Heading off to the local eateries

Slowly limping from stop to shops

Resting on a cafe bench seat

With soft and comfy cushions

I’m definitely not moving quickly

Unlike the “Canteen” master chef

Scrambled eggs I’ll have

My choice is delicious

Cooked to perfection

A come-back-to luncheon

For me, and for them

And I’m favourably surprised

My outing went better than expected

Hello dear readers, friends, and followers. I’ve been out of hospital 2 weeks now, and my progress is gradual and I’m quietly improving. 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: “The Healing House”, and all the poems were written during my 6 week stay in hospital, and of course along with the other 6 booklets, all money’s that I collect from the sale of these booklets goes to the Geelong MS Charity Shop. The list of my 7 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

And, Tullawalla, The Healing House

The booklet, Tullawalla, The Healing House, is a culmination, of writing poems under mental duress and physically very frustrating times. The poems represent a myriad of emotions and jumbled thoughts, of doom and gloom, uncertainties, comedy, and piece of optimism. Please enjoy the booklet that I am attaching here >> https://documentcloud.adobe.com/link/track?uri=urn%3Aaaid%3Ascds%3AUS%3A4ae7d436-945d-41cb-8303-598cf9cc16fb

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

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

Cheers

From Ivor xx

A Traditional New Year, From Geelong

Traditionally every year here in Geelong, the City Council sends out to every house-hold, a Calendar and information booklet. The twelve pictures in the Calendar, are of the local area, taken by local photographers, and the music I’ve added below, is by local performer, Xavier Rudd. Thank you to Weekly Photo Prompts, for this opportunity to present these glorious photos of the Geelong area. Happy New Year to all my readers. And the Calendar itself is a great >> Tradition

Crooked Ways

I’m not to be told, how to live my life

I’ve lived this life, having lost my wife

I’m not a great philosopher

Nor a fashion writer

I’m not a sprightly young traveler

I’ve no money to buy a new carrier

Too old for a toiling plumber

I actually like penning poetry

Some say your never too old

Whatever, I’ll continue to be sold

my plans to reach for the stars

Where I shall walk my own crooked ways

The Golden Beach

I’d like to thank Gina, of Singledust, and her glorious poem, ‘last pure light’, on “Go Dog Go Cafe”, for inspiring me to write my poem, ‘The Golden Beach’, please click >> Here, to read her wonderful words. Also referring to this weeks, Weekly Photo Prompt: Tradition, yes it’s an Australian tradition to spend Christmas at the beach

Staring over the ripples in my cuppa tea

Gazing at the future forecast by the tea leaf’s

I’m visualising waves upon the morning sea

And the sensation of the sand beneath my feet

Oh to walk on the golden beach again

Inhale the fragrance of the wind caressing my skin

And to swim in the rejuvenating ocean

Feel the surf’s spray on my body, like warm rain

The tentacles of fresh air draw you in securely

An aura of purity and peace abounds richly

There’s a crispness from the sun that warms your heart

And a cleansing depth within the surrounds that soothes your soul

Sleepless Thoughts

My sleepless thoughts are being unkind

I’ve repetitive words on my mind

My memories of the past

Are becoming faded

My empty hands were once full

Of memories and rhymes

My imagination for the future

Is becoming jaded

My fixated hands are now full

Of old expectations and unused time

Maybe these words will clear my mind

Help me think about what I may find

A Silent Visitor

You’re a friend, you don’t have to phone me

You’re a friend, you don’t have to visit me

You’re a friend, no need to enlist me

You’re a friend, you’ll be the last one I’ll see

Your honesty is an eternal friend to me

Your finality will be a truthful friend to me

No need for your secret messages

No need for your silent thoughts

All I need, is to share the sun

All I need, is to share the rain

Share the moon, and the universe’s pond

Share the spoon that feeds my star beyond

How To Climb

This morn, I broke my favourite bowl

We can buy another one

You say lightheartedly

But can we buy another me

I was as clumsy as can be

Awkward to the ninth degree

Oh, to sit down with a cuppa’ tea

Then I stumbling, spilt the milk

All across the kitchen bench

We can easily clean the stench

You say lightheartedly

But can we get another me

Will I continue to fall out of every tree

Will I always miss where I pee

How am I to swim the pacific sea

How am I to climb the stars with thee

Category: Photos