A Nomad

I’m writing a letter to yesterday’s nomad

The drifter of my dreams, alone and sad

My nomads world is growing wider

Broken trees floating on a flooding river


These empty words, today seem drier

The cascading waters, now a wet season’s Indian giver

I’ve hard raindrops falling, end over end

Filling tomorrow’s fresh water pond, the nomads friend


This final message, I falsely send

We shake hands, smile, our eyes pretend

My heart sinks, my nomad boards the next boat

Noah’s ark departs, I walk home, alone, in my raincoat


Ivor Steven (c)  July 2019

Life’s Blooms

I’m doing this Haiku in response to the Weekly Prompt Photo Challenge, “Bloom”, Please click >> Here  .. and go visit their fabulous site………….  and if you happen to enjoy Xavier Rudd’s music, then I’m sure you’ll enjoy his 10 minute piece below/attached…..


Haiku: Life’s Blooms


Summer in full bloom

Beds of petals for our hearts

Life’s fragrant adieu



Ivor Steven (c)  July 2019

Midnight Creek

Midnight Creek


The old plumber is back on the street

My bodies aching and I’m beat

Bloodied fingers and sore feet

Thoughts are drifting up midnight’s creek


I’ve crudely been reminded, how hard this job is to do

Cracked hands were turning black and blue

Bending and twisting, I willed myself through

Working the dusty tools, I was thinking of you


Pondering, I know I’ve given it my best

Here on my quiet riverbed, I rest

My joints will recover, in time for my next test

Tentatively, I’m flying out of this restoration nest


Ivor Steven (c)  July 2019

Love, Nature, Life.

A Collection of My Comments/Quotes, I’ve said to my readers about their poems/articles, over the previous weeks. Maybe some readers may recognise my little comments, that I’ve made on their sites.  I hope you enjoy my following collection of anecdotes, quotes and comments

Love :


True love under the stars

Remain as our memoirs


Love is kind, love is mine 

I love my world, in every line


Funny how the feet, forget how to move, 

in that quickened heartbeat moment


I walked away yesterday 

I sing in harmony today 


The honesty in love is hard to find 
The truth of love is like a gold mine…. 


Love lives on your lips 

Words only fall from your mouth



Nature :




Free on the breeze 

My spirit soars with ease 


Natures little kites 

Soaring over scenic sights 

Of dynamic flights 


Rain drops fall, end over end 

Enriching my earth, stem by stem 


A rainbow shines 

On natures skyline 


Trees and leaves 

Their life, we breathe


The simple and pure ways of nature 

If only earthlings could be that mature 


is there ever a false spring 

do we actually know anything 

are we only unfixed blossom rings



Life :  


Hope means everything 

A treadmill that drives our dreams 


A mirrored reflection can see the light 

The night is not always dark, you know……. 


The pen is a powerful tool,

even writing on a tiny piece of cigarette paper,

the words can still burn the town down 


I think we are neither better, nor worse 

We have stagnated 


Good friends know our life 

And they know our psyche 



Ivor Steven (c)  July 2019








The Perfect Gift

Liquid joy is glazing my eyes

I’m reading newly received, birthday cards

They arrived today, from America

Messages of love, from distant families

Hand written words, etching visions into my soul

A envelope full of really real, colourful stars

And children’s love letters

For the kindhearted dragon and his faeries

Including my cousins, touching heartfelt poem

Followed by my gift, a writers notebook, for those special dreams


Ivor Steven (c)  July 2019

There Is Something In Air

The music of Abbey Road is playing

Here I sit in Union Street listening

And there is something in the air

Sounds of words with honest flare

The Open Mic, poetry night

Again, at the Valhalla Bar site

The attendance, was a small downer

A cold winter storm, dampened evening goers

But the enthusiastic gathering

Enjoyed the writers readings

A mixture of poems and vocal songs

The entertainment flowed along

And I had time to read four poems

A range of my many emotions







Ivor Steven (c)  July 2019

“Dreams Of The Heart”, Published On SpillWords…..

Dear readers, I’m pleased to announce, that my poem “Dreams Of The Heart’, has been published by,  SpillWords Magazine, and a sincere thank you goes to Dagmara . K, and the Editing Department at SpillWords for their kind consideration of my poem. As most of my readers may know, it’s now nine months  since I suffered another stroke, and I’m feeling humbly proud, that I’ve been able to come back to writing again, and be rewarded with having my words published……… A big heartfelt thanks to all of my followers, supporters and friends, here on WordPress…… ((Hugs)) to you all…..

Dreams Of The Heart

written by: Ivor Steven

I cannot walk the continents
Like the intrepid Marco Polo
But my feet have felt the sands of time
Pass between my toes

To read more…… Please Click on this Link >> https://spillwords.com/dreams-of-the-heart/  and view my poem on the “SpillWords” magazine……..

In the Ivor tradition of posts/poems, the good news of course, deserves a song/music…. and who else would I choose, other than Leonard Cohen, and here I’m playing one of his most profound and poetic pieces, “Villanelle For Our Time” ………


Ivor Steven (c)  July 2019


Above, the Featured Image, is a photo of our impressive Geelong Library, I was there this morning receiving my monthly nourishment of shared poetry readings, a gathering of fellow Geelong Writers poet members, and a meeting that truly enhances my love of poetry….


I’ve been slowly recovering

And calmly re-discovering

Joyful nourishment for my soul

And now, I do care about myself

Enough, that I’ll have to build more room

To accommodate my regenerating life

The actual skill

Is having the will

From a little seed sown

Big things are grown

All creations are a masterpiece

Rejuvenating our ancient existence

Ivor Steven (c) July 2019

A Walk, A Coffee, And Alone

Above: Moorabool Valley Cafe, homestead out front of the cafe, the shed that can be seen from the cafe verandah (main featured image), horse agistment paddocks surrounding the cafe.

A Walk, A Coffee, And Alone

Little Cyndi has gone home

Here I am, again alone

The house is strangely quiet

I feel coffee and cake is on the diet

Late afternoon, and I’ll go for a walk

To my favourite cafe, where the magpies squawk

A stroll in the winter sun

And remember, I am not the only one

Reflect on life’s good times

And rekindle, my memories and rhymes

Above: The walking path close to my house, and the sunset as I was approaching home.

Above: Cyndi, yes it’s going home time……

Ivor Steven (c) July 2019

Back To Her Man

My poem here was entirely inspired by Michnavs, and her poem and article from her post today…

“My Saga Continuous”

“My Saga on my awareness campaign against Violence continuous as i explore the possible reasons why abused women chose to stay in an abusive relationship.”

If you would like to read her post, please feel free to click on this Link:  https://michnavs.wordpress.com/2019/07/16/my-saga-continuous/


Back To Her Man


She goes back to her man

A female ghost, in no-man’s land

When he angrily points to her wedding band

How many broken promises, she cannot understand?


She goes back to her man

What is the colour of his bruised hand

When he rips off her headband

How many times will she feel his fistful of sand?


She goes back to her man

What is that name for his brand

When he stomps her armband

How many years before she’s able to make a stand?


She goes back to her man

What is the origin of his shameless land?

When he demands her waistband

How many decades before he’s banned?


She goes back to her man

What happens to her life unplanned

When his every word is a command

How will she survive the witness stand


She goes back to her man

Abandoned, now in shadow-land

Living is hell, after his reprimand

He is not worthy, nor is he grand


She goes back to her man!


Apologies to Damien Rice, for using his lovely song here. The song title has the only resemblance to my poem, his beautiful lyrics, clearly have nothing to do with my poem. 

Ivor Steven (c)  July 2019