From here in Australia, I’ve been reading the stories about Mr Trump and his having contracted the ‘Covid’ virus this week, and his subsequent “miraculous/cure” recovery…. which seemed to remind me of this poem I wrote back in October 2017
Not Here nor There
My time is slowly passing.
Age is creeping, not lasting.
I’m frail and growing older.
My body shivers when it’s colder.
And sweats like hell, in the heat.
My mind is feeble and weak.
I don’t seem to remember.
Whether it’s March, April, or September.
Here I sit, what am I doing.
There I look, where am I going.
There I ask, what’s for tea dear.
Oh, I forgot, she’s not here.
Well best I retire to bed.
Wrest this weary head.
Under a linen sheet, like a white hood.
And lie here, on this piece of driftwood.
Ivor Steven (c) October 2017
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. View all posts by ivor20
Love this piece! Ah my heart breaks at the line “what’s for tead dear…” remembering loved ones. As for the President, he truly feels not here or there… Sometimes you have to wonder what is happening behind closed doors. Thank you for sharing your poem!
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Thank you Liyona…
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