I handed Her My Card

I Handed Her My Card


I had lunch at the office

That is, the Box Office Cafe

My favourite local eatery

I enjoyed a tasty Vietnamese salad

Then I took some photos on my camera-phone

Trying to capture the venues’ rustic atmosphere

Leafy plants in pots and hanging baskets

And there’s abstract paintings on display

Along side artworks painted directly onto the walls

All enhancing the Cafe’s peaceful aura


In front of the wine collection’s shelves

There’s a large table of magazines

Where my ‘Tullawalla Booklets’ lay for patrons to read

And as is my way, I started up a conversation

And there was a young lady at the adjacent table

Her name was Katie, and coincidently

She knew about the ‘Lowercase’ poetry group

I told her when and where, they were to next meet

Then she intimated she might attend the recital night

With a friendly smile, I handed her my poetry card


PS: Surprise, surprise, here I am back a the Box Office Cafe for breakfast, on Saturday morning, of the Australia Day, long weekend. I don’t often go out for breakfast, but the weather is perfect, and I’ve earned myself a treat this week. Below a couple of pic’s of my fabulous breakfast.


Ivor Steven (c) Jan 2020

Here Comes The Rain



Here Comes The Rain


The dawn’s dark rain-clouds

Of hovering graceful greys

Are cascading their silver linings

And the falling rain sparkles

Lighting up the morning sky

Resonating nature’s sounds

Heaven’s musical crescendo

The sweetest of all musical notes

A drumming of heavy raindrops

Dancing on the ground

And as the awakening rains

Come tumbling down

The torrents of regenerating waters

Are now crying rivers through burning trees



Ivor Steven (c)  Jan 2020

Worms, Ants and Zombies

This midweek’s word/photo challenge from the Weekly Prompts site is: ZOMBIE REALITY. Please go over and visit their fabulous site by clicking >>Here

Worms, Ants and Zombies


I’m under a dome, inside a barn

A giant steel worm farm

Crawling with thousands of ants

Wearing drab skirts and pants

Some are dazed, dumbfounded like me

Others stride out bold and carefree

Seeking their worm’s tunnel

Walking down an endless funnel

Where the guzzling worms stop and go

Slurping ants up, riding to and fro

Oh no, which steel worm to catch

Before the grinding worm halts, to hatch

Unfazed, into a mysterious iron-belly I jump

The giant worm rattles at every bump

Rolling through underground passages

And all the ants are reading messages

Heads down, looking at antenna screens

With their vacant Zombie eyes of red beams

I quietly ask one, “where do I get off this worm”

It snapped, “You’re asked the wrong germ! “

Suddenly I’ve a gurgling feeling of fear

And I must escape, before It bites off my ears



Ivor Steven (c)  Jan 2020

Waiting (Revised)

Hello readers and followers, this is poem I posted 3 weeks ago, but today I’ve revised some words and the format. I read this poem to my poetry group on Sunday, and after the usual discussion the group suggested some subtle changes, to give my piece an even more powerful punch….. and after swapping things around a little, this is my revised poem…. with sincere thanks to members of my wonderful poetry group…..below I’ve attached a photo of the original poem….



The earth is waiting

Sick of humans stalling

And their time wasting

They know it’s time


Waiting for their promised cheers

Waiting for less destructive years

Will they give her resolutions

Of better times ahead

Will they finally read

Thor’s neon signs

Will they notice

A smoke covered sun

Will they be able to breathe the air

As a united one


The earth cannot watch

Nor wait

While humans

Fill their own greedy plates


Why are they celebrating?

Like blind fools, that are always pretending

As if nothing is going wrong

They can hear the whales crying songs

They can see the polar caps are melting

They can taste the venom of government’s lying

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In the following video/song, if you could metaphorically place earth and human’s between the lyrics, you might understand why I chose this song by Damien Rice..



Ivor Steven (c)  Jan 2020

The Analogue Academy

Hello readers, today I’m presenting my first Haibun. The Haibun is a prosimetric literary form originating in Japan, combining prose and haiku. The range of haibun is broad and frequently includes autobiography, diary, essay, prose poem, short story and travel journal.

Yesterday I travelled by bus into the city centre, to visit the unique Analogue Academy, an art gallery, a creative arts school, including a coffee shop/bar, and a drop-off depot for photographers to have their films developed. Definitely a friendly venue for creative  people to meet, and enjoy the atmosphere of the rustic and comfortable surroundings. And of course Ivor had his usual coffee, cake and a few beers. The specific purpose of my outing was to view an exhibition of paintings by local artist, Jacklyn Foster, who is a fellow member of Geelong’s ‘Lowercase Poetry Group’. I found her display, “Replying To Spam Emails” to be imaginative and colourful, and I was very satisfied with myself that I had made the effort to attend the Analogue Academy.




Uniquely homely

Creativity set free

Here’s Tullawalla**


** Tullawalla, and an aboriginal word meaning, ‘a place to sit and meet’

Below: A fabulous painting by Jacklyn Foster

Below: Jacklyn Foster’s paintings in the display area at Analogue Academy


Below: Photos of the Cafe area



Ivor Steven (c)  Jan 2020


This weekend the Word/Photo Challenge is ‘Unusual‘. And today I went down to the beautiful Geelong waterfront for a picnic lunch and a walk around the picturesque foreshore, and afterwards, sitting at the Valhalla Bar, sipping on a beer or two, I wrote this attached poem, about the ‘unusual’ Poppy-Kettle display  Please go and visit the “Weekly Prompt” by clicking >> HERE



My lost week has fallen into Sunday

And I’m going out to enjoy the clear sunshine

The Geelong skyline is finally smoke free

Our Corio Bay is unusually dead-calm

The water is like a glassy blue mirror

As I stroll along grassy banks of the foreshore

I rest myself upon a big quartz rock

Under the shade of a palm tree


A perfect locale to have my picnic lunch

Sitting next to an intriguing Poppy-Kettle display

Miniature bronze statues for everyone to see

A children’s mystical piece of fantasy land

Nearby there’s also a fairy tale’s giant green dragon

Dragons are a mythical favourite of mine

The area has an aura of a child’s magical kingdom

And my dreamy imagination grasps me to be almost there






Ivor Steven (c)  Jan 2020

Unsteady Quill

Below an overcast sky

A crack appears in my cloud of guilt

This widening chasm darkened

Distorting the edges of distant memories


A dear friend, passed away, last week

I didn’t get to say goodbye

His funeral, was private

And I need to send a condolence card


For these seven days of my life

The card has stayed on my table

I’m trying to write to his bereaved wife

But my hand’s unsteady and not able


I’m yet to put pen to card

I’m yet to allow myself to cry hard

I’m yet to push myself to go an extra yard

Now, I must get my head out of these clouds

Lift my quill, for a mate, who was brave and proud


Ivor Steven (c)  Jan 2020