Ivor.Plumber/Poet

I’ve come a long, long way

I remember the bad, bad days

When yesterday’s were dark and grey

On level seven, under heaven’s archway

 

Laying there immobile and prone

Waiting for the etching of my headstone

Unable to call an angel on my phone

 

Unknowingly, my silent message, spun out of the cyclone

I awoke inside a comfortable twilight zone

Slowly realising I’d been saved, and finality was postponed

 

 

Ivor Steven (c)  August 2019

Hello dear readers and followers, again I must apologise for not being on WordPress and blogging with my normal zest….  I’ve been busy working (ouchie), socialising (yeah), and arduously  preparing and typing up my Eleventh Tullawalla Poetry Booklet….. Wow what a task I set myself, this booklet contains fifty of my poems, and I found the extra ten  poems to be a far bigger booklet than I thought it would be……. Anyhow the booklet is finally completed, and as always, they are available for purchase, either as a hard copy or a PDF format….. All proceeds go to the MS Charity Shop, here in Geelong West….. Please contact me here through my web page and I can chat about arrangements from there…. Oh, the booklet is called “Tullawalla:  This Is What Matters”, all about the two months since I’ve been back from Philadelphia……And I’ll attach my poem from the booklet, “This Is What Matters”….. I have also posted this article at “Go Dog Go Cafe’s” Promote Yourself Monday…. To visit their fabulous site, please click >> Here

This Is What Matters

 

My Thursday evenings, are a boys night out

As usual, we drank and chattered

Opinions on every general topic

No politics nor religion

We talk about important issues

Mainly, travel, music and sports

Lively banter, of who’s who

Any, this and thats

We know what matters

And how to save a world in tatters

 

Then I was asked about my trip

My adventures in New York

And the meeting of my cousins and their families

In the warmth of Philadelphia

Fondly, I mentioned my time there

With cousins Ken, Maureen and Terry

And of course, my special niece, Kerri

I explained how they thoroughly spoilt me

I said “Truly the best time of my life”

Slowly tears welled in my eyes

And my friends, saw the liquid joy in my heart

 

 

Ivor Steven (c)  August 2019

Have A Coffee And Cake With Me

 

Here At the Box-Office Cafe

Comfortable, warm, within quaint, rustic decor

Having my lunch break, away from work

Me and my travelling back-pack

Royal blue. light and true

I wear her like a second skin

Touring everywhere with me

From Geelong’s Bell Post Hill

To Philadelphia’s Bensalem

Carrying my notebooks and pens

And those Tullawalla booklets

The words are always in my bag

They’re for anyone to peruse, at a local cafe

Could be anyone, that I might sit next too

A friendly chat, an introduction, a hello

If they’re interested in what I do

I hand them my poetry website card

This is what I write, thank you

They smile, and say “I’ll read your words”

 

 

Ivor Steven (c)  August 2019

 

 

I’ve had this quilt for three years now, a birthday present from my girlfriend at that time. The quilt covers me every night, and I wonder and I dream, of the past, and the future. The past clings to me, like a warm blanket, and the future awakens every morning, when I toss the sheets back over the quilt.

A Quilt, For A Good Man. 

 

A quilt, crafted by hand.

Definitely for a man.

Bold and beautiful.

Maybe, I was a fool.

A quilt, for lonely nights. 

Made to keep me warm, under a cool moonlight.

Patterns of music notes and instruments.

Although, not Cohen’s Hallelujah, fourth or fifth movement.

A quilt, reminding me constantly.

However, not unpleasantly.

Like winter leaves, grey and black.

And again, there’s no turning back.

 

Ivor Steven (c)  July 2019

Midnight Creek

 

The old plumber is back on the street

My bodies aching and I’m beat

Bloodied fingers and sore feet

Thoughts are drifting up midnight’s creek

 

I’ve crudely been reminded, how hard this job is to do

Cracked hands were turning black and blue

Bending and twisting, I willed myself through

Working the dusty tools, I was thinking of you

 

Pondering, I know I’ve given it my best

Here on my quiet riverbed, I rest

My joints will recover, in time for my next test

Tentatively, I’m flying out of this restoration nest

 

Ivor Steven (c)  July 2019

Liquid joy is glazing my eyes

I’m reading newly received, birthday cards

They arrived today, from America

Messages of love, from distant families

Hand written words, etching visions into my soul

A envelope full of really real, colourful stars

And children’s love letters

For the kindhearted dragon and his faeries

Including my cousins, touching heartfelt poem

Followed by my gift, a writers notebook, for those special dreams

 

Ivor Steven (c)  July 2019

The music of Abbey Road is playing

Here I sit in Union Street listening

And there is something in the air

Sounds of words with honest flare

The Open Mic, poetry night

Again, at the Valhalla Bar site

The attendance, was a small downer

A cold winter storm, dampened evening goers

But the enthusiastic gathering

Enjoyed the writers readings

A mixture of poems and vocal songs

The entertainment flowed along

And I had time to read four poems

A range of my many emotions

 

https://ivors20.wordpress.com/2018/07/19/my-dragon-the-trilogy-3/

https://ivors20.wordpress.com/2019/06/28/black-snow-thaws-in-the-winter-sun/

https://ivors20.wordpress.com/2019/07/20/back-to-her-man/

https://ivors20.wordpress.com/2019/04/16/haiku-our-river/

 

Ivor Steven (c)  July 2019