Magpies and Butterflies

Magpies and Butterflies 

Our sad solar eye 

Is hiding behind a misty sky

Why do you cry? 

The golden age did not die 

Nor are we waving goodbye 

Despite the state of our pigsty 

Verbal bullshit deeper than knee-high 

One day soon, we will try 

To become nature’s ally 

Turn ourselves into the good guys 

With clip-on clean green bowties 

Then, save our magpies and butterflies 

Tullawalla is Available From

Jaymah Press:https://www.jaymahpress.com.au/

Ivor Steven: email, ivorrs20@gmail.com

Amazon: search via, ‘Tullawalla by Ivor Steven’


AND
Perceptions is Now Available via:

Jaymah Press: https://www.jaymahpress.com.au/

Lulu Books: https://www.lulu.com/shop/ivor-steven-and-derrick-knight/perceptions/hardcover/product-2pwqe4.html?q=Perceptions+by+Ivor+Steven&page=1&pageSize=4

OR: email me directly for a signed copy – ivorrs20@gmail.com

Ivor Steven (c) February 2023

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…

View original post 107 more words

Nestled, (a Senryu)

I sit in silence

Tired, but calmly self-assured

Nestled and settled

Ivor Steven (c) May 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. >> https://derrickjknight.com/2022/04/15/swarms-of-moths/

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

“New Mushrooms”, my 2nd Poem in the Red Wolf Journal, A Change of World Spring 2022 Edition

Featured Image Above: with the kind permission of Derrick Knight >> https://derrickjknight.com/

The ediditor of Red Wolf Journal, Irene Toh, is pleased to announce the release of the Spring 2022 Issue.

The poets with work in the A Change of World edition are:

Dmitry Blizniuk
Paul Brooke
Jeff Burt
Joe Cottonwood
CS Crowe
Mary Anna Scenga Kruch
Ron. Lavalette
Joan Mazza
Karla Linn Merrifield
Peter Mladinic
Misky
Larry Oakner
Frederick Pollack
Emalisa Rose
Timothy Resau
Rikki Santer
Emil Sinclair
Ivor Steven
Debi Swim

You may download a copy of the PDF release here.

A Change of World Spring 2022 Issue 20

____________________________________________________________________________________

You’re invited to submit to our new issue, also titled A Change of World, Fall 2022 Edition. Read our submission guidelines here. Happy writing!

Irene Toh
Editor
Spring 2022 Edition
_____________________________________________________________________________________

A sincere thank you to the editor Irene, for considering two my of poems for her superb anthology “A Change Of World”

New Mushrooms

After the storm

Old boundaries were transformed

Fences were moved and torn

Fields smelled of rotting corn

Patient vultures remained airborne

Above the drowning longhorn’s

After the storm

I rested under the peppercorn

And I saw new mushrooms rise with the dawn

Ivor Steven (c) February 2022

New Windows

New Windows

•

The day after

Flying around this old tree

Life is slowly coming back to me

•

I step away from my “Itmims” sleigh

To embrace the new world

And give celebrations another whirl

•

With a life full of joy

My journey continues

To dance through

Lockdown’s open windows

Ivor Steven (c) December 26th 2021

Nurture, Give, and Receive

Nurture, Give, and Receive




It’s a material world 

That leaves us in a whirl

What we really need 

Is a planet without greed 

That needs our minds to proceed

By growing and nurturing her seeds

Then our journey becomes that of the giver

Rather than being nature’s grieving receiver

Ivor Steven (c) December 2021

Afloat, 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 “Afloat”, is in this weeks edition of Coffee House Writers Magazine. … please click on the link below and visit my poem, at Coffee House Writers …>> https://coffeehousewriters.com/afloat/

Coffee House Writers

Afloat: This poem is about living in these confusing times of the “Covid” pandemic, and the constant uncertainty of handling normal everyday tasks.
Written by, Ivor Steven Est. reading time I min

Afloat

today I am going to build a better way

I will open my doorway to more sunrays

and walk the pathway to a shimmering bay

I need to run away from her empty pearl tray

visit downtown and watch a live play

or hang-out in the alley outside the royal ballet

just for appearances sake, I’ll shuffle and sway

maybe the town-crier would let me stay

even though I might look like an old stray

standing alone under the memorial archway

then without delay I jump on the tramway

and head away to the shipping quay

that have restored ocean liners on display

where I shily sneak up the gangway

waving my refugee pass for entry to the USA

Ivor Steven (c) December 2021

New Horizons

New Horizons

The calm whispering sky

Becomes the morning’s warm foot-bath

While doggie paws wander on the winding path

Dawn’s old cogs begin grinding

Rusty axles are slowly turning

Daytime wheels start rolling

Time never stops revolving

New seasons always keep evolving

And summertime lights up new horizons

Ivor Steven (c) December 2021

A Blue Shark in My bed

This time three years ago, was the beginning of my three months is hospital, originally suffering from a “mystery” virus, and then I had a stroke, followed by another minor stroke. … Somehow I managed to write about that three month journey via my poems, and today I’m presenting the first poem I wrote from my hospital bed during that time …

I’m lying in bed, hallucinating

They’ve given me too many pain killers

Swimming between soaked sheets

In an ocean of hot sweat

I see a blue shark in my bed

Angrily circling me

That killers glint in his eyes

His giant jaws open wide

And he viciously bites me

Piercing my lower neck

And poking my left eye out

My blood is boiling on the red sea

If this is hell, please ring the bell

I shall pray to save my soul, and be set free

I’m swirling in drugs, I cannot think

My eyes are shut, I cannot blink

Where are you mum

I was always your number one

She’d make me my favourite cake

A passion-fruit sponge she’d bake

I sense a benevolent friend, if he’s not too late

Smuggling me a gun, past white guards, inside mum’s cake

To you who cannot see me, I’m an ancient fable

Who’s about to leave the table

With the rest of the disabled

I’ll look for you, in your higher stables

How can I find my way back?

I’ve lost my winding track

Life for me cannot be the same

I’m not recovering, I’m losing the game

Forgotten my name and where to aim

Destiny has me old and lame

Ivor Steven (c) November 2021