Sorry reader and followers for my lack of blogging today (and tomorrow) … The old poet traded his quill in this morning (and again tomorrow), for his old rusty spanner and diirty hammer ..
Back On The Tools. (adapted from “An Old-time Plumber”)
Could I actually do the task?
Am I physically strong enough?
Am I mentally sharp and stable enough?
To endure two days of hard work?
Surprise, surprise, I survived day one
Job nearly completed and clients suitably pleased
And I am home enjoying a red wine
Although when I finished it was almost dark
And my back was stiff as red-gum bark
But a job stamped by my old-time quality trademark
Over at Weekly Prompts, the monthly Colour Challenge for May is: Mellow Yellow. Please go and visit their fabulous site by clicking >> Here . Below is my “Tanka” response to their ‘Colour Prompt’ ..
A special poem I wrote, after I’d taken my Lady to hospital for the last time, on the day of her 65th birthday. ten years ago. Hello Carole, and I wonder if you still wonder that I wonder, wishing upon your celestial star…….
Hello dear readers and followers, as you may know, I now write for “Coffee House Writers” magazine on a fortnightly basis, and my poem “Life is a Bowl of Fudge”, is in this weeks edition of Coffee House Writers Magazine. … please click on the link below to read my poem, at Coffee House Writers >> https://coffeehousewriters.com/life-is-a-bowl-of-fudge/
Below; I have formed one poem out of four Haiku that I wrote this morning, and I have many fractured thoughts within my soul today, a decade after Carole’s passing on May 3rd 2012 at 1.15pm …
Today’s Fragments (A four Haiku poem)
I am who I am I can’t use another tram She’s my hologram
I sit beside her Next to yesterday’s campfire Candles in the wind
A red flame flickers Under her celestial star My eternal light
On my island home Winds blow from across the sea Completion awaits
Back on the 2nd of May 2012, I thought this poem was going to be the last piece I would ever write … finality for my wife was near, and my mind was adrift on the horizon. … little did I know, that in few months time, her spirit and enthusiasm for life, would become the inspirational source for the revival of my poetry writings, and now a decade later “Carole’s” amazing zest for life, still influences my every thought behind the words I write …
‘Til Death Do Us Part
She’s there, in that tall pale building of brick.
Where the Nightingales care and tend to the sick.
She’s there, away from home and her comforting bed.
Where the Doctors try to fix the endless ills from her head.
She’s there, and her absence reminds me of future plights.
Where my anxieties for her her well being endure her fight.
She’s there, and I need to visit her all day, and every night.
Where the distance to reach her soul is out of sight.
She’s there, and I’m wondering about that far away dome.
Where her lost personal affection would leave her all alone.
She’s there, in those misty clouds, with church bells ringing.
Where she’s near to the sombre sounds of angels singing.
She’s there, and her constant pain remains tight in my heart.
Now I’m convinced, just like I said at the very start.
There’s no place like home for her gathering dark.
And I promise to her again, ‘til death do us part.
Ivor.Plumber/Poet 