Come rain hail or shine
I’ll be ready for that Qantas Airline
Now I’ll always have time
To appear like I’m in my prime
I’ve a second-hand new toy
That’ll bring me pain and joy
Donated by a kind friend
Helping me get back on the mend
I’m fortunate and high as a purple kite
Under my verandah, I’ve a new silver bike
Ivor Steven (c) 2019
I’m no Jiminy Cricket
Nor the flighty Tinkerbell
I’m far older than yesterday’s tadpole
And quieter than last night’s old frog
Time for me to venture out
Take a step into the unknown
Hobbling, I board the bus
Heading off to the local eateries
Slowly limping from stop to shops
Resting on a cafe bench seat
With soft and comfy cushions
I’m definitely not moving quickly
Unlike the “Canteen” master chef
Scrambled eggs I’ll have
My choice is delicious
Cooked to perfection
A come-back-to luncheon
For me, and for them
And I’m favourably surprised
My outing went better than expected
Ivor Steven (c) 2019
Hello dear readers, friends, and followers. I’ve been out of hospital 2 weeks now, and my progress is gradual and I’m quietly improving. 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: “The Healing House”, and all the poems were written during my 6 week stay in hospital, and of course along with the other 6 booklets, all money’s that I collect from the sale of these booklets goes to the Geelong MS Charity Shop. The list of my 7 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 Tullawalla, Waiting Time
And, Tullawalla, The Healing House
The booklet, Tullawalla, The Healing House, is a culmination, of writing poems under mental duress and physically very frustrating times. The poems represent a myriad of emotions and jumbled thoughts, of doom and gloom, uncertainties, comedy, and piece of optimism. Please enjoy the booklet that I am attaching here >> https://documentcloud.adobe.com/link/track?uri=urn%3Aaaid%3Ascds%3AUS%3A4ae7d436-945d-41cb-8303-598cf9cc16fb
Booklet #5: Home Is The Air I Breathe Booklet #6: Waiting Time
And Booklet #7: Tullawalla, The Healing House My “Isolation Time”
Cheers
From Ivor xx
I’m the silent young writer
Who’s singing last year’s poem
I’m the old lame man
Who’s slowly learning to fly
I see myself in the mirror
My blood’s running dry
The razor is sharp enough
To make a grown man cry
I’m a laughing Hyena
As my blood fills the basin
Whoops, not fun on the run
Laughing, as I’m nervously shaving
There’s more blood in the basin
And my limp right hand’s shaking
Best I stop before I die
The recovering poet still wants to fly
Ivor Steven (c) 2019
Liquid Joy (Revised)
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 a broken porthole
And wishing for a free parole
Tears of liquid joy
A flowing molten lava
Passing a secret convoy
And singing like the last choirboy
Crying liquid joy
Ivor Steven (c) 2019
I’m at my desk wondering
Sitting here deeply pondering
Whether I’m a strange sort of writer
And am I, an only loner
My keyboard is covered in moisture
A wetness from my overflowing tears
I cry about my latest plight
I cry for the world’s hungry, sleeping tonight
I cry during Xavier’s song, Spirit Bird, like the, Last Post
I cry for the children, the ones we have lost
My heart bleeds tears from within
My heart writes with soul filled ink
My heart dampen’s with every word I weep
My heart floods with emotions every time I sleep
I was wondering
And I am pondering
Do other writers, hear that nightly sound
Hear the pitter-patter of naked feet
Hear the noise of shuffling feet in their sleep
Hear their dirtied feet, the millions of poor children, yet to eat
Ivor Steven (c) 2019
I’m not to be told, how to live my life
I’ve lived this life, having lost my wife
I’m not a great philosopher
Nor a fashion writer
I’m not a sprightly young traveler
I’ve no money to buy a new carrier
Too old for a toiling plumber
I actually like penning poetry
Some say your never too old
Whatever, I’ll continue to be sold
my plans to reach for the stars
Where I shall walk my own crooked ways
Ivor Steven (c) 2018
I’d like to thank Gina, of Singledust, and her glorious poem, ‘last pure light’, on “Go Dog Go Cafe”, for inspiring me to write my poem, ‘The Golden Beach’, please click >> Here, to read her wonderful words. Also referring to this weeks, Weekly Photo Prompt: Tradition, yes it’s an Australian tradition to spend Christmas at the beach
Staring over the ripples in my cuppa tea
Gazing at the future forecast by the tea leaf’s
I’m visualising waves upon the morning sea
And the sensation of the sand beneath my feet
Oh to walk on the golden beach again
Inhale the fragrance of the wind caressing my skin
And to swim in the rejuvenating ocean
Feel the surf’s spray on my body, like warm rain
The tentacles of fresh air draw you in securely
An aura of purity and peace abounds richly
There’s a crispness from the sun that warms your heart
And a cleansing depth within the surrounds that soothes your soul
Ivor Steven (c) 2018
My sleepless thoughts are being unkind
I’ve repetitive words on my mind
My memories of the past
Are becoming faded
My empty hands were once full
Of memories and rhymes
My imagination for the future
Is becoming jaded
My fixated hands are now full
Of old expectations and unused time
Maybe these words will clear my mind
Help me think about what I may find
Ivor Steven (c) 2018
You’re a friend, you don’t have to phone me
You’re a friend, you don’t have to visit me
You’re a friend, no need to enlist me
You’re a friend, you’ll be the last one I’ll see
Your honesty is an eternal friend to me
Your finality will be a truthful friend to me
No need for your secret messages
No need for your silent thoughts
All I need, is to share the sun
All I need, is to share the rain
Share the moon, and the universe’s pond
Share the spoon that feeds my star beyond
Ivor Steven (c) 2018
Ivor.Plumber/Poet 