Hot Cross Buns and Chocolates

Hello readers and followers, the poem I am reposting today is an ”Alphabet” poem that I wrote in April 2019, two days before I left to fly to NewYork, on my way to visiting my Philadelphia cousins, who I had never met, and of course I was also to meet my favourite niece and penpal “Kerri” for the “First” time … So, I thought I would try to write my “First” every Alphabet Poem, to celebrate my “First” every trip to New York and Philadelphia …

Hot Cross Buns and Chocolates

America, here I come, ready or not

Beyond my bed-zoned borders

Chasing those forgotten horizons

Dreams are finally blossoming

Easter treats are tucked in my pockets

Fancy editions of my poems, are packed in the case

Giant airports and planes abound

Hot cross buns, and more chocolates are eaten

Inspiring my week’s holiday mood

Jet engines soaring aloft

Kidnapping me by default

Lawyers left floundering

My medical records lost in transit

Naughty nightingales, again covering for me

Opening my doorways, to the promised land

Passing high above the melody, at heaven’s archway

Quarantine played, Leonard’s Tower Of Song

Rumblings, I hear from a distant Bensalem yard

Spiritual chants, from my family circle

Telepathic messages, humming on a magic carpet ride

Unbroken my promise, now to be honoured

Vikings and villains to be avoided

Weapons disguised, under the statues torch of liberty

Xylophones I hear, playing on the streets of New York

Young ladies are dancing to my tune, Hallelujah

Zero-ground, salutes me there, staying upside down

Ivor Steven (c) May 2022

My River Flows, is up at Coffee House Writers Magazine

Hello dear readers and followers, as you may know, I now write for “Coffee House Writers” magazine on a fortnightly basis, and my poem“My River Flows”, is in this weeks edition of Coffee House Writers Magazine. … please click on the link below and visit my poem, at Coffee House Writers >>

My River Flows

I am emotionally torn today
Ten years since my lady was lowered away

Nostalgic memories hit me
But fears do not haunt me
Clouds of the past engulf me
But tears do not flood me

My writing desk is in disarray
I wonder
Would she approve of me today

Regretful feelings within me
But fears do not consume me
Shadows of the future scare me
But tears do not drown me

As my river of life
Flows upstream towards my wife

Ivor Steven (c) May 3rd 2022

Throwback Friday, Waiting Time, by Ivor Steven

Readers who follow my blog site would know that I attended an Ekphrastic Poetry Workshop during the week, and my poem here today is from a previous Ekphrastic workshop that I went to, in September 2018

Go Dog Go Café

Readers who follow my blog site would know that I attended an Ekphrastic Poetry Workshop during the week, and my poem here today is from a previous Ekphrastic workshop that I went to, in September 2018

Above is the Chapbook published by Geelong Writers, and the magnificent painting by Graeme Altmann, that inspired my poem ‘Waiting Time’

Waiting Time

I’m a time-traveler on a mission

Waiting for a personal vision

An image of my father’s ghost

To appear above the white-water coast

Millenniums ago, I delivered him to the ocean

Threw his ashes across the horizon

Away from faceless time-clocks

Away from hidden jagged rocks

Now I see him, proudly standing afloat

Wondering, who’s left to row the boat

Waiting for the breeze, without a sail

Seeking his passage through soundless hail

Beyond tumbling waves, a prism of light

Waiting stops, his alien spirit soars tonight

Ivor Steven (c) Sept…

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Under The Snow

A special poem I wrote, after I’d taken my Lady to hospital for the last time, on the day of her 65th birthday. ten years ago. Hello Carole, and I wonder if you still wonder that I wonder, wishing upon your celestial star…….

Under The Snow.

We emanate to a birthday.

We deflate to a final day.

Birthdays, they all come, they all go.

Birthdays, in the sunshine, under the snow.

Birthdays, slow to mature, quickly an aeon.

Birthdays, before we are born, after we are gone.

Birthdays, hanging on by a breath.

Birthdays, nailed to a cross ’til death.

What’s it all mean to be alive and cry.

What’s it all mean to live and to die.

Ivor Steven. (c)  May 2022

Today’s Fragments

Below; I have formed one poem out of four Haiku that I wrote this morning, and I have many fractured thoughts within my soul today, a decade after Carole’s passing on May 3rd 2012 at 1.15pm …

Today’s Fragments
(A four Haiku poem)

I am who I am
I can’t use another tram 
She’s my hologram

I sit beside her 
Next to yesterday’s campfire 
Candles in the wind 

A red flame flickers 
Under her celestial star 
My eternal light  

On my island home 
Winds blow from across the sea 
Completion awaits 

Ivor Steven (c) May 3rd 2022

‘Til Death Do Us Part

Back on the 2nd of May 2012, I thought this poem was going to be the last piece I would ever write … finality for my wife was near, and my mind was adrift on the horizon. … little did I know, that in few months time, her spirit and enthusiasm for life, would become the inspirational source for the revival of my poetry writings, and now a decade later “Carole’s” amazing zest for life, still influences my every thought behind the words I write …

‘Til Death Do Us Part

She’s there, in that tall pale building of brick.

Where the Nightingales care and tend to the sick.

She’s there, away from home and her comforting bed.

Where the Doctors try to fix the endless ills from her head.

She’s there, and her absence reminds me of future plights.

Where my anxieties for her her well being endure her fight.

She’s there, and I need to visit her all day, and every night.

Where the distance to reach her soul is out of sight.

She’s there, and I’m wondering about that far away dome.

Where her lost personal affection would leave her all alone.

She’s there, in those misty clouds, with church bells ringing.

Where she’s near to the sombre sounds of angels singing.

She’s there, and her constant pain remains tight in my heart.

Now I’m convinced, just like I said at the very start.

There’s no place like home for her gathering dark.

And I promise to her again, ‘til death do us part.

Ivor Steven (c) May 2nd 2022

Did Your Heart Stop Too?

Ten years ago today, it was the “Time” that I made a “heart stopping decision”

Did Your Heart Stop Too?

Did you cry too?

When the doctors told you

She was not going to recover

Did they ask you too?

About what you already knew

It was time

To flick the switch

And dim her light

Did your heart stop too?


You had emptied her shoes

Did you sleep there too?

During those infinite days of blue

Softly holding her hand

And not letting go

Did you weep too?

Blankly alone

In her full room


For her last silent breath

Ivor Steven (c) April 27th 2022

Rivers of Love, is up at Spillwords Magazine

I am ecstatic that during this month of personal remembrance for me, to have my special poem/Tanka, “Rivers of Love” published at Spillwords Magazine today, and I am very grateful to the editor Dagmara for accepting my piece .. Pease go and visit my poem at Spillwords and if you wish, leave a 💗 for my article, by clicking on this link >>

Rivers Of Love (a Tanka, with an introduction quote)
Written by, Ivor Steven

How many rivers of tears must I cry. Before all the deepest wells run dry”Ivor Steven, May 2012

The hail’s coldness stings
An old wind pierces my eyes
As yesterdays tears
Etch raw ravines in my cheeks
Her rivers of love run deep

Ivor Steven (c) April 2022

A Third Eye is Watching 

Happy 75th birthday to my dear departed wife Carole, and I am also celebrating the 10th anniversary of her passing from this world.
Featured Image above: Is a collage I created from 2 of Derrick Knight’s photographs, and thank you to Derrick, for allowing me to use his photos here in conjunction with my poem. >>

A Third Eye is Watching 

When your emotions begin to flow 

Do your senses amplify and grow? 

Bodily aches and mental strains intensify 

Your flooded brain feels like a third eye 

Wondering why? 

You are paddling knee-high 

In yesterday’s goodbyes 

Today my universe 

Hovers above my verse 

And there is no reason to cry 

While her soul resides high and dry


Ivor Steven (c) 17th April 2022