A Heat Mirage

I’ve shut myself inside

The devil’s heat lays outside

The curtains are closed

Doors are locked

Who am I hiding from

I’m alone in my home

What am I keeping In

Can’t recall, the last time I sinned

I’ve already slept through the day

The day is passing away

Morning’s ghost has gone

Mid-afternoon and nothing’s done

It’s far too hot

To just sit here and rot

In my mind, what else to do

But think, about you

Ivor Steven (c) 2019

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G'day, and welcome to my blog site. My name is Ivor Steven, I live in Geelong, Australia. I'm an ex-industrial chemist, and a retired plumber, and a former Carer of my wife(Carole), for 30 years, who suffered from severe MS. I Write poetry about those personal thoughts, throughout and beyond my life as a Carer. I've been blogging for over 2 years, and writing poems for 19 years. Of course a lot of my poems are about my favourite subject Carole, but since I've been blogging my writings have become quite varied, humourous, mystical, observational, and even a few monster/horror poems.

51 thoughts on “A Heat Mirage”

    1. Thank you Linda, yep it’s been hot over, 100’F for 4 days in a row !! πŸ€—πŸ‘ŸMy exercise and walking program has slowed, apparently it’ll be cooler after the weekend 😁❀️

      Liked by 1 person

    1. Yes Cyndi is here for today and the weekend, she’s a lovely girl. I actually rescued her from the lost dogs home and give her to my then partner, the little King Cavalier loves me because she thinks I saved her life xx

      Liked by 2 people

  1. In the cool of the evening
    and the going down of the sun
    the heat finally retreats
    and all mirages undone.
    Not all that glimmers is gold.
    Visions to spur on the young
    as dreams embolden the old.
    The Spirit always speaking gently
    whether the weather is hot or cold.

    Liked by 4 people

  2. You’re poetic talent is no mirage. I can’t believe it’s so hot there while we are freezing our you know what’s over here. I am a warm weather girl so I am going to envy your heatwave.

    Liked by 2 people

  3. I just now had an epiphany, Ivor. You’re a master of suspense. I should have noticed it before, but you have a real knack for creating anticipation in your readers. At least in me, that is. You’re so good at it, I bet you do it instinctively. The best skills, I think, are things we learn so well, we do them as if by instinct.

    At any rate, it carries me through your poems. It pulls me along effortlessly on my part. I never need make myself read the next line.

    I have learned something from a master tonight. It is mine now. Mine to screw it up!

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Oh Paul you’ve just told me something that I didn’t know about myself. And yes my writings are completely instinctive. I know I like to write a story that has a element of surprise/anticipation. But it all happens instinctively, and I suppose it’s just in my nature as a person. Thank you for your wondrous comment, I’m smiling to myself in bewilderment……..

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Glad to help a fellow poet see his work through someone else’s eyes. It seems so obvious to me now, Ivor, I wonder why I didn’t see it before. But tonight it just hit me, “Ivor can make a hot, listless, sleepy day sound like a suspense novel!”

        Here’s how I see it in this particular case. It starts subtly — very subtly — with the first two lines:

        “I’ve shut myself inside
        The devil’s heat lays outside”

        Devil = danger = “What’s going to happen next?” Not to mention, you’re obviously aware of the danger — you’re shutting yourself inside, after all. Had I written about such heat, there most likely would have been not even a hit of suspense, Ivor. With luck, I might have communicated “It was a hot day” as well as you, but I would not have instinctively created anticipation, suspense.

        Of course, it gets amplified way up with: “Who am I hiding from”.

        That’s just one poem. But now that I’ve recognized it, I recall you doing it a lot.

        It’s quite obvious to me your skills come directly from all those decades you spent as a plumber looking a dripping faucets, trying to guess when the next drop would fall. πŸ˜€

        Liked by 1 person

      2. Thank you again Paul, when I look back on my words, you are obviously correct. I wrote another poem about the heat a few hours ago, and a political statement as well, and yes your right again !!
        I suppose it came from my 30 years of caring for Carole, every day was a different day and planning the next day went out the door πŸšͺπŸ˜‰

        Liked by 1 person

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