Category: Melancholy

By The Waters Edge, (Tullawalla)

In reply to CalmKate’s, Friday Foto Fun Prompt;  Uprooted    << Click to view Kate’s site…..

By The Waters Edge, (Tullawalla)

 

Above: The home I lived in, growing up.  Above Right: My bachelor’s pad, a first floor apartment

 

Above: Our home, Carole & I, shared for the next 37 years of togetherness. until her passing

 

Above: Were I rented for 3 years, with a lady called Sue.  Above Right: The next year I boarded here.

 

Above:  The old Tullawalla & the new Tullawalla, Mum & Dad’s, holiday house, and then their retirement home. Me and my brother (Danny) lived there for 6 months, at the end of 2016. And then at start of 2017, I moved my present home.

 

Above: My home today, the front view, and the back courtyard and verandah

By The Waters Edge, (Tullawalla)

 

I’m in an isolation cabin

Like a waiting mosquito larva

Ready to burst

Surrounded by sand and sea

And a river mouth

Tidal and free

And I share my daily bread

A piece for you, for her, for them

Thoughts of you

I dream of now, and then

I see your flowered coffin

 

I’m tangled in a cocoon

Like an angry dragon-fly

Begging to break free

Surrounded by water-grass and weed

Tea-tree and Dunes, far as the eye can see

And a garden bed

Grown from seed

And I share my weekly menu

A piece for you, for her, for them

Thoughts of you

I stare down upon a fallen brave

I see your flowered cave

 

 

Ivor Steven (c) 2018

Sorry, I’ll Be There Soon

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

Intrusion

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

 

Don’t Ask Me Why

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

Hold Me.

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

20180123_111307 (2)

Ivor Steven (c)  2018.

Down Along The River Bed

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