Ivor.Plumber/Poet

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