Ivor.Plumber/Poet

The poker faced cameraman said cheese

I thought, “I will have swiss cheese please”

The starter said, “Get on your marks”

Secretly, I was ready to fart

The referee pointed and said, “Get off the pitch

I swore, “Not my fault the guy was a bitch”

The train conductor said, “Who pulled that emergency cord?”

As I speed down the corridor on my skateboard

The teacher said, “Who wrote that silly limerick on the blackboard?”

And I hid behind the brick wall listening to Pink Floyd

The grumpy lecturer said, “Who lit that smoke-bomb in the Library?”

I was last seen mischievously rescuing the principal’s secretary

Ivor Steven (c) April 2021

“The strongest and sweetest songs yet remain to be sung.” – Walt Whitman

Tomorrow’s Song

When I am old

Or, when I am older

Not if, but when

Alone my later years I will spend

I will listen to music at home

Croon along with Leonard Cohen

Read dusty books by poets and champions

Write simple words about bees and lions

When I am old

Living on leftover fools gold

I will hobble down smooth paths

Sip on tea and savour Guinness draughts

And thank my tiring tongue

For hungering what I have left undone

When I am old

Shivering from the cold

I will silently snuggle up in bed

Quietly chase dreams in my head

And thank my fading mind

For seeing what I have left behind

Ivor Steven (c) April 2021

“The poet judges not as a judge judges but as the sun falling around a helpless thing.”
― Walt Whitman

Is There Enough Time?




I slept half awake during the night

And dawn arrived through half open sight

I began the warn morn half dressed

I bathed and stepped halfway into my best

I opened the front door halfway

And half peered down the sunny pathway

And I asked the half world of day light

Is half a day of sun, enough foresight?

Enough time to repair the world’s wrongs

Enough time to walk every worn furlong

Enough time for the living to grow strong

Enough time to write the next happy song

Ivor Steven (c) April 2021

At the moment I am reading Walt Whitman’s ‘Leaves of Grass and Selected Poems and Prose’ that I borrowed from the Geelong Library, and after reading only 60 pages, I am aready amazed enough to go ahead and purchase a copy for my bookshelf, and his writings motivated me to write the below poem today…

Invisible Why and When

In the midst of my life

I am still using her carving knife

Between here and there

I am still climbing through the air

Between blank lines and my velvet pen

I am still writing about invisible why and when

Between whom I hear and what I see

I am still searching for the olive tree

Between her star and the dark side of the moon

I can still reach the man with a silver spoon

Between her broken mirror and my empty glass

I can still feel the universe in a blade of grass

Ivor Steven (c) April 2021

My Belmont Page Creative Writing Group is held on Thursday’s, and our ‘Thought Prompter’ sentence for this week is ‘Time to put the garbage out.’ and below is my response that I shall be reading to the group tomorrow

Also, This week’s Wednesday Challenge on “Weekly Prompts” is the word: RUINED MERCHANDISE. Please go over and visit their fabulous site by clicking >> Here.

Dumping Our Sumps

Our garbage bin is full to the top

And overflowing with filthy slop

Contaminated dirt is spilling onto the tarmacs

Nuclear waste is seeping through the cracks

Dead batteries melt into poisonous wax

As empty aerosol cans add to our air’s death tax

Plastic bags are filled with grubby plastic packs

Eventually resurfacing as our oceans strangulation traps

Where do we dump our polluted fallout?

When will it be time to put the garbage out?

Ivor Steven (c) April 2021

a weekend of reflection

remembering a lost affection

visions of togetherness

recalling times of happiness

smiles and a violet dress

laughing, despite life’s duress

within a body possessed

languishing on a cross unsuppressed

a spiraling metamorphosis

a star’s incandescence

Ivor Steven (c) April 2021