Tullawalla: Booklet #6

Hello dear readers, friends, family and followers. Sorry I’ve not been around to all my fellow bloggers on WP, with my usual diligence and zest. As most of you might know, I had a 6 week stay in hospital, resting and recovering. 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: “Waiting Time”, and of course along with the other 5 booklets, all money’s that I collect from the sale of these booklets goes to the Geelong MS Charity Shop. The list of my 6 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

And, Tullawalla, Waiting Time

And I’m happy to say that I’ve now learnt how to print on both sides of the pages, thus halving my mailing costs for anyone interested in purchasing, for the price of postage and plus a donation for the MS shop. I have a PayPal account, to make payments easier.

 

 

 

 

wordswag_1536566735800Contents #5   

Booklet #6:  Tullawalla, Waiting Time

 

 

Cheers

From Ivor xx

 

Finding Today

Hello dear readers, the poem below was originally hand written 2 weeks ago, during my stay in Isolation, and It was up on my Isolation Room’s Whiteboard, so I’ve decided to type up the poem, with a few minor changes and present the words again here today.

Your sky above

My sea below, our air in between

A cloudless dream

Floating on a gentle stream

Drifting across flat shiny pebbles

Emitting flat parallel beams

Carrying visions of hope

Hope for future scope

Time, to be wiped clean

Cleansed by soothing rain

Revealing warm sunshine again

Warm sun-rays, instead of dead X-rays

Removing yesterday’s old creams

Finding today’s new dreams

Ivor Steven (c)  2018

An Epic Love – A Poem by Walt Page, The Tennessee Poet

I’m honoured and humbled, by this glorious poem written by my dear friend Walt, The Tennessee Poet, please have a look at some of his down to earth poems.

Walt Page, The Tennessee Poet's avatarWalt's Writings

This is dedicated to my dear friend and brother in poetry,
Ivor.Plumber/Poet. Ivor lost the love of his life Carole a few
years ago after she lost her battle with severe MS for
over 30 years. Ivor was Carole’s primary caregiver during
her illness and most of his poetry has been about her.
Please visit Ivor’s blog at https://ivors20.wordpress.com/

He misses her so much
His heart feels like it’s breaking
Everything he does
Everywhere he goes
Reminds him of her
He lives in a house of memories
And wonders when his pain will end
So many years together
Caring for each other
Caring for her as her illness worsened
As he sits alone now with his memories
Everything he does
Reminds him of her
So he turns to his writing
And picks up his pen
He knows she is watching
From Heaven above
And the words flow like love notes

View original post 15 more words

Out of Solitary

I’m out of isolation

Home tomorrow afternoon

I’m as weak as a kitten

That’s been chased and bitten

I’m as tired as Leonard after his last song

My recovery shall be slow and long

I’m sure to need lots more rest

And there’s more examinations and tests

Over the next six weeks

But I’ll keep writing and giving cheek

Ivor Steven (c) 2018

Crow

Relaxing here in solitary

Looking out towards my left

I see the old Geelong Cement silo’s

At the top end of Autumn street

Three kilometres away

As the crow flies

The crow, flies outside my window

Below he hovers, above Autumn street

Ironically the street where we lived

For our entire thirty-eight years together

I’m nostalgic about every year

Reminiscing, and yes, I’m full of tears

Tears of liquid joy

Joy of togetherness, for so many years

And our old crow was always there

Perched in our lemon tree

Every morning the crow would sing tō us

Sing his ancient tunes

His tunes of memories and rhymes

Ivor Steven (c) 2018

Pillow And Willow

“Hello dear pillow”

“You’re so kind and soft to my head”

I said to my fluffy white pillow

I recall, similar words being said

Years ago, when I was young

Talking to my backyard willow-tree

Hugging the grand old trunk

And saying to the tree

“Hello dear willow”

“You’re so kind, to let me climb you”

Ivor Steven (c) 2018

Mystic Man

I’m digging a tunnel

With my ball and chain

Underneath the great wall

Towards the east side of the moon

Away from these wasted days

Beyond the drain of pain

My eyes search for a light

Through my grotto’s ceiling crack

Resolutely my heart yells at me

“There’s no turning back”

Fingers are bloodied

Toes are blistered

My throat is parched

Lips are sweat covered with dirt

I’m desperate for the evening rain

And a cooling breeze

Fresh upon my old crusty skin

I’m to meet a mystic Arab

Cloaked in cloth of indigo blue

He’s been sent by Muhammad to save me

Burst me free, and find my lost kin