May Day

Thursday morning, a chilly May day,

Six years since our gracious lady passed away.

tumbling in, memories hit me

but fears not beat me

Clouds of the past cover me

but tears not flood me

 

At my old writing desk, all in disarray

wondering would she approve of me this way

regretful feelings within me

but fears not consume me

shadows of the future haunt me

but tears not drown me.

“How many rivers of tears must we cry

before all the deepest wells run dry”

 

Ivor Steven (c)  2018

What is one of the worst emotional storms you’ve weathered in your life?

The Sandbox Writing Challenge 2018 — Exercise 17. Posted by in Blogging .

 

Stroke, And Who’s Left To Row The Boat

 

The storms are too many to count.

Emotional lows had weathered me out.

And there’s another poem I’d written.

“Olive Eyes”, when she was found to be broken.

Below I’ve attached the poem link.

How much lower could our life sink.

 

After fourteen years of our struggles, I suffered a Stroke.

An ambulance came, my brain was in a boat.

Floating out to sea, overboard and panic-stricken.

I wasn’t swimming, barely awake, and drifting.

I had fallen, nothing was working, and not talking.

She’s crying, I’m sobbing, my heart is dying.

And who’s left to row the boat, I’m thinking.

I was jabbed with a needle and silently sleeping.

 

I awoke a day later, in hospital, feeling wasted.

My face was limp, mouth parched, was that death I tasted.

My mind was active, I thought where is she.

I knew I was bad, the room was all blurry to me.

Strong anxieties had set in, I needed to know.

Nurses came to me, I pleaded, I wanted to go.

“Help me to see her, just give my bed a tow.

Please let me go, before I’m covered in snow”.

 

Ivor Steven (c)  2018

“Olive Eyes” link,    https://ivors20.wordpress.com/2018/01/19/olive-eyes/

 

 

 

Ivor Steven: Pumpkin Soup Again

A big Slurpy Thank You to Slasher Monster Magazine for publishing “Pumpkin Soup Again”, in their fabulous magazine, please go over and visit the site.

SlasherMonster

Head’s falling like an unpinned grenade.

Soon ready to explode.

Burying shrapnel pieces in corners of shade.

Scattered like broken retina globes.

Razor blades shredding memory lockets.

Slivered icicles inside blurry sockets.

Needles of pain.

Sheets of sleet before the rain.

Bloodied eyeball tracks like meteor trails.

And the pain-numbing capsules do fail.

Oh please, blindly needing to set sail.

Upon swirling Oceans, like Homer’s tales.

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Tit Bits #5

The air I breath

Purifying within

free to leave

free as the wind

…….

I wonder at nature’s freshness

early in the morning

we take her for granted

our perennial mother earth

nurturing a new start to every day

I wish our mankind could

begin afresh like her

…….

Searches are many

answers unfound

mirrors our insanity

until eyes hear sound

…….

They may steal my words

with their poison pens

but they’ll never be able

to copy my heart

nor retrieve my soul

……

Time is on my side of the door

a knock, a chat, wine and more

 

Ivor Steven (c)  2018

 

 

He Was There, Back Then

Let me tell you how it is

It’s like this you see

*he sounded like the truth,

I know he’s not the truth today*

He was there

back then

I saw with my own eyes

Let me tell you how it is

It’s like this you see

…….

I’m here now

Toot toot” I do stay

come out to me

don’t worry

I’ll never come in and see

you with your disability

I’ll hide behind my wheel 

here in fear

I don’t want to feel

your loving smile

nor your gentle tears

…….

Let me tell you how it is

It’s like this you see

*He sounded like the truth

I know he’s not the truth today*

 

Ivor Steven (c)  2018

*These two lines* bear similarities of the two lines taken from Leonard Cohen’s song, It Seemed The Better Way.

“Sounded like the truth

But it’s not the truth today”

 

 

To All My Friends A Sincere Thank You

To Celebrate this wondrous occurrence, we shall play a Leonard Cohen song/poem (Of course). I’ve been blogging for only 10 months, and it’s all quite unbelievable for this little Plumber/Poet from Geelong. Thank you, one and all. 

And as an added bonus, I’ve also achieved the grand sum of 200 posts, Oh, and how appropriate it be with a posting of a Leonard Cohen song, I’m truly humbled.

post-milestone-200-2x

Teachers, Lyrics. By Leonard Cohen

I met a woman long ago  her hair the black that black can go,  Are you a teacher of the heart?  Soft she answered no.  I met a girl across the sea,  her hair the gold that gold can be,  Are you a teacher of the heart?  Yes, but not for thee.  I met a man who lost his mind  in some lost place I had to find,  follow me the wise man said,  but he walked behind.  I walked into a hospital  where none was sick and none was well,  when at night the nurses left  I could not walk at all.  Morning came and then came noon,  dinner time a scalpel blade  lay beside my silver spoon.  Some girls wander by mistake  into the mess that scalpels make.  Are you the teachers of my heart?  We teach old hearts to break.  One morning I woke up alone,  the hospital and the nurses gone.  Have I carved enough my Lord?  Child, you are a bone.  I ate and ate and ate,  no I did not miss a plate, well  How much do these suppers cost?  We’ll take it out in hate.  I spent my hatred everyplace,  on every work on every face,  someone gave me wishes  and I wished for an embrace.  Several girls embraced me, then  I was embraced by men,  Is my passion perfect?  No, do it once again.  I was handsome I was strong,  I knew the words of every song.  Did my singing please you?  No, the words you sang were wrong.  Who is it whom I address,  who takes down what I confess?  Are you the teachers of my heart?  We teach old hearts to rest.  Oh teachers are my lessons done?  I cannot do another one.  They laughed and laughed and said, Well child,  are your lessons done?  are your lessons done?  are your lessons done?
From Ivor, Geelong , Australia. Cheers To Everyone……

Imagine someone important to you sitting in this chair. What would you say to this person that you’ve NEVER SAID before?

The Sandbox Writing Challenge 2018 — Exercise 16 . Posted by in Blogging

Sorry For You.

 

Sorry, I wasn’t always there for you.

I’m sorry for your life of misery.

I’m so sorry, for writing this unhappy story.

And I couldn’t find your holy grail.

That sacred cup of water to cure the frail.

Sorry I couldn’t help or heal you.

I’m sorry for your life being wrong.

I’m so sorry, for playing this wordless song.

And I couldn’t find your holy grail.

That sacred cup of wine to cure the frail.

 

Sorry I didn’t travel every path for you.

I’m sorry for your life’s that lost.

I’m so sorry, for holding this worthless cross.

And I couldn’t find your golden grail.

That sacred cup of blood to cure the frail.

Sorry I couldn’t be stronger for you.

I’m sorry, for your world that couldn’t be.

I’m very sorry, for walking on an empty sea.

And I couldn’t find your silver grail.

The angels vessel of purity, to no avail.

 

An old poem I wrote, when I was feeling guilty about my capabilities as a carer. I’m posting here, and thinking someone in a similar situation may read these words. Please do not feel guilty or inadequate, you’re not failing, and there’s really only so much that is possible. You’re not alone in having these insecure feelings, and please understand, us carer’s all go through these self doubts and confusing thoughts.

 

Ivor Steven.