Yorkie And Me

Yorkie’s staring at me vacantly

Like I’m a strange tattooed bikie

Sitting on him, me anxiously crying away

Why am I crying, he quietly says

Looking at me with those big silver eyes

Pondering whether he’s hurting me

Is the ride too much pain

Is all the walking a physical drain

No !! None of that I exclaim, crying tears again

I’m crying wondering, if I’ll ever get there

Crying, because I cannot wait to be there

Crying with embarrassment, for the tears I’ll shed when I’m there

Suddenly, Yorkie barks out at me

Oh Ivor, keep pedalling, toughen-up and and you’ll arrive

Yes, me and my companion Yorkie, have become friends.


Ivor Steven (c)  2019

Yorkie, Against The Undertow

I’m pedalling my silver bike, called Yorkie

Pedalling slow and steady, out near my bar-bie

I’m not actually moving

But I am dreaming

Thinking of places I could be

Visualising what I might see

If I can keep pushing

I’ll end up with a Qantas cushion

I know the year is new and early

But I’m feeling unfit and unworldly

There’s a long way, for my body to go

There’s no turning back, despite the undertow


Ivor Steven (c)  2019

A Hard Rain’s A-Gonna Fall On Polar Bears

The foreigners have quietly landed

Wood from our trees has all been sanded

We’re a country without doors

Surrounded by golden shores

The openings are cast and vast

And the alien’s time is here at last

I cannot stop them, nor can you

If it be their will

Then, let it be

Join them, do not flee

We’ll all be hand in hand

To become the promised land

So let us be great again

Do not worry about the hard-rain

Do not consider the broken light

Forget about the rainstorm tonight

Who cares about Polar Bear’s with no ice

Leaders say “Enjoy now, no matter the price”

Sorry, we cannot send the politicians a banquet of flowers

All flowers are in crystal vases, within the moguls ivory towers



Ivor Steven (c)  2019

A Bike To New York

Come rain hail or shine

I’ll be ready for that Qantas Airline

Now I’ll always have time

To appear like I’m in my prime

I’ve a second-hand new toy

That’ll bring me pain and joy

Donated by a kind friend

Helping me get back on the mend

I’m fortunate and high as a purple kite

Under my verandah, I’ve a new silver bike


Ivor Steven (c)  2019

Lunch For Jiminy Cricket

I’m no Jiminy Cricket

Nor the flighty Tinkerbell

I’m far older than yesterday’s tadpole

And quieter than last night’s old frog

Time for me to venture out

Take a step into the unknown

Hobbling, I board the bus

Heading off to the local eateries

Slowly limping from stop to shops

Resting on a cafe bench seat

With soft and comfy cushions

I’m definitely not moving quickly

Unlike the “Canteen” master chef

Scrambled eggs I’ll have

My choice is delicious

Cooked to perfection

A come-back-to luncheon

For me, and for them

And I’m favourably surprised

My outing went better than expected


Ivor Steven (c)  2019




Tullawalla: Booklet #7


Hello dear readers, friends, and followers. I’ve been out of hospital 2 weeks now, and my progress is gradual and I’m quietly improving.  However I’ve been keeping myself busy, in between nanna-naps, preparing my new booklet of poems. I’ve just finished the manuscript (Phew and yeah !!), and this one is called, “Tullawalla: “The Healing House”, and all the poems were written during my 6 week stay in hospital, and of course along with the other 6 booklets, all money’s that I collect from the sale of these booklets goes to the Geelong MS Charity Shop. The list of my 7 booklets is below. These booklets are all printed here in my little writing studio/haven, put together by hand, and they’re a foolscap size folder of 21 pages and 40 poems in each booklet

Tullawalla, Poems, By Ivor Steven                                                                                   Tullawalla, A Sign Of The Times                                                                                               Tullawalla, The Waves Say Goodbye                                                                                     Tullawalla, Who’s Left To Row The Boat                                                                        Tullawalla, Home Is The Air I Breathe                                                                            Tullawalla, Waiting Time

And, Tullawalla, The Healing House

The booklet, Tullawalla, The Healing House, is a culmination, of writing poems under mental duress and physically very frustrating times. The poems represent a myriad of emotions and jumbled thoughts, of doom and gloom, uncertainties, comedy, and piece of optimism. Please enjoy the booklet that I am attaching here >> https://documentcloud.adobe.com/link/track?uri=urn%3Aaaid%3Ascds%3AUS%3A4ae7d436-945d-41cb-8303-598cf9cc16fb





Booklet #5: Home Is The Air I Breathe                      Booklet #6: Waiting Time



And Booklet #7: Tullawalla, The Healing House          My “Isolation Time”





From Ivor xx