I think for a part-time Plumber, and and a sometime Poet, my garage is reasonably organised, and yes, the car/station wagon, fits in quite comfortably.
Hello dear readers, well I’m celebrating my eighteen month anniversary of blogging, with another post originally from June 7th 2017, and I’ve rehashed the poem slightly.
Tears of liquid joy
Like rivers of fear
The memories so clear
And a toast to cheer
Tears of liquid joy
Like waves from the heart
Two great oceans apart
And wishing for another restart
Tears of liquid joy
Like dredged canals of the soul
Leaking from the broken porthole
And needing a free parole
Tears of liquid joy
Like a flowing molten lava
Passing a secret convoy
And singing like the last choirboy
Crying liquid joy
Ivor Steven (c) 2017
My efforts to beat failures go amiss
Someone keeps moving the goal-posts into the mist
I’m misunderstanding what I need to know
I understand what I already Know
I’m misunderstanding why they throw the stones
I understand the hurt of being hit by sharp stones
There’s a loud cheer from the crowd
But who’s listening to my silence now
Silence is deafening
My heart missed a beat
Waiting times are beckoning
My message replete
Telling myself it’s fine to have empty days
I smile to myself, at my misty eyes
They’re welcome emotions now-days
Swelling my heart in forgiving ways
Ivor Steven (c) 2018
I’m of mixed origin
Am I a hybrid
An off-spring of my parents
Dad was a red-head with freckles
From Tasmania, a convicts great-grandson
Mum had dark hair and olive skin
A German and Scottish background
She was born in Penang Malaysia
They were worlds apart
The great war shaped their paths
Time and peace brought them together
I’m their hybrid, freckles and dark hair
Ivor Steven (c) 2018
A cold winters morn
Another new dawn
I’m refreshed, I’m alive
I roll myself over
Onto my tummy
Elbows on my pillow
The curtains are open
Gazing out the window
Through the leaves and red flowers
Of my Jazzi Bougainvillea
My courtyard’s looking homely
A havens scenery
My forest fernery
Full of natures greenery
I’m feeling cosy and dreamy
Comfy in my writers aviary
Ivor Steven (c) 2018
Really “Politics Isn’t My Thing”., but please read this wonderfully intriguing poem by Cosmic Poetry, she writes with a lot of feeling.
Weekly Prompts – Your second chance to be creative. A Photo Challenge, this weeks prompt is Random. RANDOM.
Their Plane’s bogged, in a paddock on the Indonesian island of Sumatra 1919
Keith Smith and Ross Smith, on their heroic flight from London to Darwin, in the Vickers Vimy aircraft. Winning the England to Australia air-race 1919, taking 28 days !!
The photos were taken by grandfather, Leopold Meyer.
Do you every have that vacant feeling
Silently in a void, wandering
Darkness has fallen
Clouds shroud the moon
Misty rain cools the night-air
Wondering what happened to your day-time
Hours of down-time
What have you done
Memories of your day have gone
Nothing in your hand
Blankness in your mind
Decoding untold stories
Writing on pure white pages
Words of invisible ink
Ink that runs away
Eloping with your pen
To find a better day
Leaving you empty again
Ivor Steven (c) 2018
Nonsense and logic
What’s the difference in our world today
…….
I love nonsense
It’s my best sense
My creative sense
It’s my good mood sense
Free of common sense
…….
The ocean breeze caresses my senses
Like poetry pages fluttering across the seas
…….
My time flies, past my eyes
It’s time, time stopped flying
At the speed of light
Out of my blurry sight
…….
Oh, you do hide
Haunting, I’m scared
Like a pumpkin head
Under whispering sheets
Let me go to seed
Leave me be
Ivor Steven (c) 2018
Posted in Blogging, Challenges, Prompts & Exercises, Reflections, Sandbox Writing Challenge 2018
The poem here is a rewrite of a very old poem of mine, I’d like to thank Calen of,
What Can I Do
What am I expected to do
When is so much, too much to do
Why am I so scared, what can I do
What is the future, for me and for you
How will I say, I’m too tired for you
When is the day, to tell you
Will I hurt too much, to be without you
How will I know, when the time’s due
Why is it so, what can I do
Where is the place, I’m putting you
Why am I frightened, no, no, not easy to do
When I finally have to, and don’t want to
Who am I, to have this over you
What is the answer, for me and for you
Now or never, could that be true
How by myself, I’ll never be able to
Ivor Steven (c) 2018
Ivor.Plumber/Poet 