The Flower Show

A Haiku for V.J. Knutson. Earlier in the day, I said to V.J.  I was going to the Geelong Orchid Show today and she wanted some photos, and I hope my post here, conveys the beauty of the flowers that were on display …. I’m not a good photographer, and all of these photos have been cropped and colour enhanced…… And today’s  Weekly Photo Challenge is: Edit... << Please click here to view, the “Weekly Prompts” site…


Haiku:  The Flower Show


A hall full of blooms

The scene, a sea of colour

Flowering perfume


Ivor Steven (c)  June 2019

Lost On The River

Hello dear readers, I hope you enjoy reading this meaningful and spiritually significant poem. My piece here was written during today’s deluge, and inspired, after listening to this stirring spine tingling song by Rhiannon Giddens, the music Video I’ve attached below….

Lost On The River

Rain is pouring down

Like a river from the sky

Ground is becoming drowned

I’m lost on the river

I cannot be found

A wall of water is pulling me out to sea

How will I ever reach high ground

Then a tree branch grabs me

A man’s voice yells, “Stick around”

In the blinding deluge, I cannot see

The man’s saving hand guides me

Drenched, shaking, I’m dragged aground

I feel secure with his arms around me

“Don’t worry little fella, you’re safe and sound”

I pant, and lick his face from ear to ear

I was lost on the river, hell-bound

But now he’s saved me

And beside him, this will be my town

Ivor Steven (c) June 2019

My Old Lane To Nowhere



My Old Lane To Nowhere


The roadworks have gone on for half a year

At seven in the morning, noisy trucks crunching into gear

My old muddy track

A dirt lane, no longer winding back

The boggy clay  is being dug out and renewed

Soon to be a bitumen and concrete view

I’ll be walking on a sealed road

No more murky puddles, nor frogs and toads


Gone the stench of rotting soil

Mixed in with leftover sump oil

My house floor to stay cleaner

And a nature strip groomed and greener

At last, my driveway entrance dry and solid

No more fishing in the muck for my dropped wallet


Ivor Steven (c)  June 2019

Black Snow Thaws In The Winter Sun



I went to my favourite lunch-spot today, the Moorabool Valley Chocolate Cafe. I have not walked that far (the weather has been dismal), since I’ve been home from my trip to Philadelphia. Surprisingly I handled the long walk reasonably well. Then I sat down for a coffee and a piece of tasty blue-berry cheese cake. The winter sun was gorgeous, out on the outdoor balcony, and I happily “observed” a pair  of Weebill birds, as I continued to write this poem(Below). Also attached, a few photos from my pleasant afternoon observations……

The Weekly Word Prompt is: >>  Observation  << click to view their site.



Black Snow Thaws In The Winter Sun


I’ve no more secret words of sorrow

Only old lines I’ve borrowed

I found them in a poet’s dusty booklet

The pages were tattered, like grandma’s cookbook

Torn recipes, out of last century’s Gideon’s bible

Of a tongue, ancient and tribal

Shadowy scriptures that now appear outdated

Erased from my sacred tablet

Years of love and dreams desecrated

Thrown away, but prudently not wasted

My road ahead is now cleared of black snow

The night is not always black, you know ?


Ivor Steven (c)  June 2019

An Open Mic Evening

I attended another recital/open mic, evening tonight. Despite venturing out into the cold, I enjoyed the friendly evening. A great chance to meet up with fellow poets and hear their outstanding works. Also a time to sip on a few beers and soak up the pleasant surroundings, and atmosphere, of the ‘Valhalla Brewing & Taproom’  bar, during the poetry reading sessions. I was fortunate enough to be allowed to read three of my poems. Below are the three pieces that I read out tonight.


Dreams Of The Heart


I cannot walk the continents

Like the intrepid Marco Polo

But my feet have felt the sands of time

Pass between my toes


I have not sailed the high seas

Like the courageous Christopher Columbus

But my body has bathed

In an ocean full of kind hearts


I’m yet to fly in space

Like the brave Neil Armstrong

But I have reached for the stars

And touched my soul’s dreams



Its Time


We’ll miss you,

Mother Earth.

Your splendour,

And imposing style.

From forest canopy’s,

To the desert Nile.

New creations,

Beauty, gone.


We’ll lose you,

Father Time.

Your rhythm,

And stoic guile.

From ancient history,

To the future files.

New millennia,

Awaiting, gone



Haiku: We Lost The Sea 


Bridges of dreams crossed

The ocean and river spanned

Waters of love found


Ivor Steven (c)  June  2019


Moon Blossom

The old moon knows

After a bitterly cold winter

There’s never a false spring

The devil’s apple tree always blossoms


The new moon now asks us

About the planet’s every faded sign

Ghosts in the soils dried up cracks

Moon shadows cover sacred grounds


However, above a dying old moon

Or below the new moon’s veins

Eve’s love moon, remains alluring

Her moonbeams spoon our imagination


Shimmering upon that blue lagoon

Playing the jubilee tune in every lovers bedroom

Love eventually conquers us all

When moon blossom ringlets fall



Ivor Steven (c)  June 2019

A Lame Horse With No Name


He has no shame 

He has no name 

Life for him is a game 

Life for him is someone else’s blame 

He will not be remembered 

He will not be a heavenly member 

He’s full of money and greed 

He’s full of himself, that’s the arrogance of his breed

His narcissistic attitude is growing worse

His growing pool of lies , will eventually stagnate and burst  


Ivor Steven (c)  June 2019

The Rear Of Night

The Weekend Photo Challenge, on Weekly Prompts is, Rear  << Click …. Above is my photo of the rear of my unit, in this morning’s fog. And below today’s poem, “The Rear Of Night”


My foggy morning, an inky dye

The heavy mist, has kidnapped my sky

Sabotaging my light, the sun disappeared in front of my eyes

The rear of night, has been left with no flight

There’s no start, nor end to my blurred sight

Breathing in moist air, I gasp, were’s the moon ?

Has my gloomy forecast, unravelled too soon

Is this sunless day, the beginning of doom ?



Ivor Steven (c)  June 2019