Oh baby, I’m tired of watching
You drive my car
The wheels are on fire
Beyond the grip of my sweaty palms
Whenever, is my burn-out time due
Behind the old steering wheel
Before I finally run-out of fuel
Driving on my road, with no rear-vision view
A new license to live, and be beside you
I’m sorry, I’ve not been to see you, I’ll be there soon
Ivor Steven (c) 2019
I didn’t realise I had written so many of these sort of “life as a carer” poems, these were written years ago, when I was struggling with the process of coping…… Please do not over react, many years have gone by, I’m Ok these days. Hopefully my words may help other carers that maybe in a similar situation, and realise that they are not alone out there, with their thought and doubts
Intrusion
The process of being alive
Such an intrusion on going awry
The engagement of caring in life
Such an intrusion on living to get bye
The labour of toiling for pay
Such an intrusion on flying away
The dishonour of begging for more
Such an intrusion on failing to score
The exhaustion of continuing to care
Such an intrusion on needing to dare
The silence of the evening moon
Such an intrusion on hearing too soon
The explosion of morning sunlight
Such an intrusion on pleading for quiet
The disharmony of singing this song
Such an intrusion in sighing, so long
Ivor Steven (c) 2019
Hi dear readers, I’ve found this old poem in my folder of poetry called “Love And Reflection”. I’ve changed a few words, so the poem is in the present tense, but basically the words are in the same format. I’ve had it hidden away for a while, the poem is quite personal and emotional for me, I hope you enjoy reading my words from 6 years ago.
Don’t Ask Me Why
Unknowingly, I often dream of her serene ashen face
Years ago, I gently held her frailty in my tired arms
Softly I whispered to her, my last words of love and grace
Don’t ask me why, I count the moons since I missed her charms
Because I cannot give you a sensible or plausible answer
Don’t ask me why, I count the stars since I lost my way
Because I’m unable to fathom the depths of my inner cancer
Don’t ask me why, I count my every heart beat, since she died that day
Because now, I’ve nearly recovered
And somehow, life has been steadily rediscovered
Remembering, she’ll never ever go away
Knowing someday, I’ll be allowed to stay
Ivor Steven (c) 2019
Today is Saturday 22nd of December 2018, 7.00am, and I’ve been home a night, after basically a six week stay in hospital. I’m not over all my problems yet, I’m very tired, both physically and mentally, and it’s going to take me a while to recover. hopefully I’ll end up ok. Anyhow, It’s lovely to be home, and I thought I’d repost this old poem of mine,please enjoy.
Take me to my home
Home is where my heart is
Home’s on that windy hill
Above a secret valley
Hovering, a heavenly cloud
Take me to my home
I’m waiting here alone
All packed ready to go
Vacating this old place
Leaving this world behind
Take me to my home
The beyond will be greener
I know you’ll be there
You’ve been waiting so long
I know you’ll hold me again
Hold me in our home
Ivor Steven (c) 2018.
The tree is murky green
Beyond it’s cloudy grey
Like the heaven’s are caving in
Collapsing from below
From the devil’s chasm to the distant horizon
To the horizon I cannot see
I cannot see tomorrow’s colours
Nor the colours of today’s sky
Ivor Steven (c) 2018
The Geelong Writers Anthology book launch is on tonight, and this is one of my poems that I was fortunate enough to have published in the Anthology. I suppose the words seem to be quite appropriate, considering my continual long stay here in hospital. I’m supposed to be going home in the afternoon, however, sadly my old body parts will not be strong enough to go to the book launch this evening.
I arose from the dead
Uncovering pieces of me, I dread
Old body parts I must shread
Blobs of fatty tissue to shed
Sinkers of lead inside my head
Drag me down along the river bed
A stainless steel ankle plate
More than an arthritic ache
Pins and needles spike my heel
Soon I’ll need pump-up wheels
My unrepaired tear ducts
Flowing cascades
Pour over etched eye facets
Like flooded Everglades
Black-metal lays upon my soul
Eclipsing my deepest goals
Darkened shrapnel shards
Deal me unforeseen tarot cards
There’s a hole in my heart
Where a silver coated bullet
Fired from an empty pulpit
Ripped my senses apart
If I throw out the truth
What remains of myself
I might as well be dead
Only words left inside my head
Ivor Steven (c) 2018
This haiku was a very sad piece for me to write. Personally, the words are an ode/tribute to our grandniece, Georgia, who was only 20…… Please, I’m ok, I’m wishing my words are appropriately good enough for the poor child lost….
A Flower Gone
In a sea of lights
She, an unpicked bloom, wilted
Young and fresh, now gone
Ivor Steven (c) 2018
