Hello dear readers, friends, and followers. I’ve got 24 days to go before I fly to New York, and my progress is improving everyday. I’m keeping myself busy, bike pedalling (On Yorkie) exercise sessions and walking 8000 steps a day, In between, I’ve been preparing my new booklet of poems. I’ve just finished the manuscript (Phew and yeah !!), and this one is called, “Tullawalla: “Leafless Branches”, No more hospital appointments, and I’ve been given the all-clear to fly away.  Like my other 8 Booklets, all money’s that I collect from the sale of these booklets goes to the Geelong MS Charity Shop. The list of my 9 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                                                                                                  Tullawalla, The Healing House                                                                                                            Tullawalla, Beyond The Brick Wall

And, Tullawalla, Leafless Branches

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

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

Booklet#8: Tullawalla, Beyond The Brick Wall               My front door.

And, Booklet #9, Tullawalla, Leafless Branches

Cheers

From Ivor xx

Hello dear readers, my poem here is a collection of odds and ends, of mine, that I’ve jotted down and stored in my note-book. I’ve placed them together in some sort of order. I think the resultant poem has achieved an overall view of my thoughts for the month…..

Oh, how we dream

Ponder, our lost promises

Wait, one more time

Closed, shut are our eyes

What you see and feel

Are not always the true deal

I habitually step behind my veil

To see if I’m real

The powers behind me, turned on my light

There’s no need to return back to black

We don’t want too much by intention

We need what we haven’t got

Love, warmth and protection

That’s our missing lot

I’m not loaded with success

But from being down and out

I’m taking bigger steps now

Climbing every hillock

Then I’ll see the light

On top of my mountain

I’m not sure whether my palpitations

Are anxieties of recovery high’s

Pedalling across sea and sky

Or, sheer excitement of anticipation

Oh Leonard, your words are playing sweetly

I’m hearing the melodies of your songs

Ivor Steven (c)  2019

The “Weekly Word Prompt, this week is: Passport

Dusty Passport

Here I was resting, home again from hospital

A mystery illness, had laid me up

I was rekindling thoughts of travelling to America

An adventure I’d always promised myself

Night is not always dark, you know

Firstly I had to find my passport

Yes, I’d hidden it somewhere safe

After turning the bedroom inside out

Then throwing the lounge-room upside down

The lost document was on a garage shelf

Looking dusty, but still only five years old

Jumping for joy, you’d think I’d found gold

Hardly ever been stamped, a Chinese one, that’s all

Many years to pass, until my last call

I clasped that passport firmly in my hand

And I said, “It’s time”, before my clock runs out of sand

Ivor Steven (c)  2019

The “Weekly Word Prompt, this week is: Passport

Dusty Passport

Here I was resting, home again from hospital

A mystery illness, had laid me up

I was rekindling thoughts of travelling to America

An adventure I’d always promised myself

Night is not always dark, you know

Firstly I had to find my passport

Yes, I’d hidden it somewhere safe

After turning the bedroom inside out

Then throwing the lounge-room upside down

The lost document was on a garage shelf

Looking dusty, but still only five years old

Jumping for joy, you’d think I’d found gold

Hardly ever been stamped, a Chinese one, that’s all

Many years to pass, until my last call

I clasped that passport firmly in my hand

And I said, “It’s time”, before my clock runs out of sand

Ivor Steven (c)  2019

I’d like to thank Gina, of Singledust, for reminding me of an old poem of mine. Her glorious poem, “dying dreams” inspired me to write an answer to my poem “A Crack In The Wall”.

Cracks Fading Into Dust 

Long ago, I lay bruised, on a pebble beach

The jagged rocks, had cut me deeply

I remained, bleeding and afraid

Beached, unable to row with my torn pieces

The cracks sharp edges, are now blunt

Ancient dark chasms, softened by time

And filled with yesteryear’s tears

Light ascends from the opaque holes

And glowing lustre, hovers over old fears

I see clear visions beyond the front door

And distant dreams, becoming realities

I’m done, hurdling fences and stone walls

The lifelong barriers are turning into dust

And her lost love, will be my last supper

Leonardo’s Bride – Lyrics. Even when I’m Sleeping

Ivor Steven (c)  2019

My sunny dawn cracked open the morning sky

I yawn and I stretch, my back goes crack

The noise of warning sirens cracks the air

Let’s get cracking and take Yorkie for a pedal

From this quiet suburb of Geelong

To visit the vast metropolis of Philadelphia

From these drying puddles of the Moorabool

To the flowing waters of the Delaware

I’ll pack sun-burnt soil from this dusty land

And exchange my sand, for smiles and greeting hands

Featured Photos: Taken by Ivor Steven, the pictures are of the Moorabool River, from the banks of the river, behind the Derwent Hotel, Batesford, Geelong.

At of my friend Kate of “calmKate”, afew more Moorabool River pictures.

Ivor Steven (c)  2019