Congregating Every Day

Hello dear readers and followers, this poem today is the first piece I have written for 3 weeks, after being unable to attempt any computer work because of my debilitating back pain. I’m afraid my back is still very sore, and this article has been put together via short sittings at my desk over the last 3 days. I think Derrick’s photos captured my imagination and stirred my tired mind to write something creative.

All Photographs, by Derrick Knight, and thank you once again for allowing me to reproduce your fabulous images here on my poetry site …

And this is now our 39th poem/photograph collaboration, and a “Glossy Coffee-table” type book “Perceptions” is on the way, hopefully, available before Christmas.

No-one told the ponies

Congregating Every Day

There they patiently stand

Congregating every day

Outside the community shop

And the village letterbox

Most of them are posting

Food parcels to their equine relatives

Hungry and abandoned in the Ukraine

Others wait forlornly

For any news of encouragement

About the health and whereabouts

From their frightened families

Inside war-torn Ukraine

There they patiently stand

Congregating every day

Ivor Steven ©  August 2022

Ukraine is in Pain (a Limerick)

Not really a humourous Limerick, this one is quite melancholy, reflecting my back pain over these last few weeks …

Ukraine is in Pain (a Limerick)

There was an old poet in pain

Who had been struck down by hard rain

He felt thorns in his back

Like a missile attack

Misguided shrapnel from Ukraine

Ivor Steven (c) August 2022

Day One (a Repost)

A poem from early in year, while I am here laid up in bed with a sore back

Day One

Before Day One

I wished upon a star
That the milk-bar
Was not too far away
My life’s bread was crumbling
My weathered hands were funmbling
Witnessing the last supper was humbling

Day One

There, beyond the darkness
Out in the universe
From a million light-years away
Under an alien’s microscopic frame
We would all look the same

After Day One

I wished for the dust to settle
Then waited for rusted gunmetal
To mature into household kettles
Whistling hallelujah to new sunflower petals

Ivor Steven (c) August 2022

Metamorphosis, is up at Coffee House Writers Magazine

Hello dear readers and followers, I now write for “Coffee House Writers” magazine on a fortnightly basis, and my poem“Metamorphosis”, is in this week’s edition of Coffee House Writers Magazine. … please click on the link below and visit my poem, at Coffee House Writers >>

Thank you to Derrick Knight for sending me his butterfly photo to accompany my caterpillar photo >>


I am lying on the damp path 

A stranger stops and leans over me  

“Are you ok mate?” he asks 

“I’m fine thank you” 

“I’m down here having a chat with Mr. Caterpillar 

“Oh!” gives me a quizzical look and moves on 

Then Mr. Caterpillar said 

“Thanks for joining me here at dirt level” 

I reply.  

“The moist grass feels silky against my cheek 

and I think we humans forget to honour the earth,  

and don’t appreciate the planet we have under our feet” 

“You are right about that 

even in my life as a caterpillar 

before I transfer into a butterfly 

I see the tainted sky turning darker 

the valley river is murkier 

and I feel the ground under my feet 

is anxiously trembling even more” 

“I wonder what the world will look like 

when I’m a butterfly in the sky 

I have only three weeks of adventure before I die 

however, during my short lifespan 

you humans 

will persist with willful destruction 

and shamefully increase the number of orphans

under your feet” 

Ivor Steven (c) July 2022

The White Azalea Peace Garden

The White Azalea Peace Garden

I stare at the garden plaque

There on the ground

In front of the white Azalea bushes

I sit on the park bench and wonder

Here under a clear blue sky

Why? Does the sun shine on our world

I was born in nineteen fifty one

Here under a broken moon

During the second year of the Korean War

I stand and walk away

Where must I go?

To view the whole of the moon

The Last Living Rose

Give me shelter

From this daily war-zone

Throw me a blanket


To protect my wilting petals

I am cold and lonely

I am tired and hungry

I am scared

Do not let me wither away

Help me

My brothers

The sunflowers

Are war torn too

Do not leave us

Please save us

Give me shelter

From this hard rain

Throw me your shadows


To remove the thorns in my side

I am the last living rose

Do not forget me

Throw me an anchor


To reground my ancient roots

Before I am blown away

Ivor Steven (c) June 2022

There Will Be An Answer

The Featured Image above was taken by Derrick Knight, and when I viewed his heartwarming photo of the foal peacefully sleeping on the grass, my mind was immediately inspired to write words, and after numerous attempts to create something worthy of Derrick’s beautiful photo, I eventually produced this poem “There Will Be An Answer” … and my poem is to be read by pretending that you are the “foal’s” thoughts … You may visit Derrick’s article by clicking on this Link >>

There Will Be An Answer

All the world is green

Within my midday dream

Please, do not disturb me

Let me sleep, let me be

Let it be, let it be

I do not comprehend

Your unnatural trends

Of killing your neighbours

After kicking in their sacred doors

Do not listen to me

Hear the breeze among the trees

There, under nature’s ancient marquee

She wisely decrees

Live in harmony like the bees

Co-existence is free

Let it be, let it be

Ivor Steven (c) June 2022