A Mist Of Summer Kisses (Revised)

A Mist Of Summer Kisses

My heart was pulsating

Like a child’s first day at the beach

Excitedly wide eyed, a wondrous sight

A vast seaside water world

My lips tasted the sea air

My hips plunged into refreshing salt water

The waves were not too steep

The ocean was not too deep

I’m almost alive

I’m almost at home

Here at the Ocean Grove beach

Here in ecstasy, sun, sand and surf

The place where friends meet

The home of Tullawalla

The house where imagination began

The universe of my creative waves

Ivor Steven (c) Dec 2019

My Broken Mast

Here’s another repost from February 2020. While I’m busy writing some new submission poems for up-coming anthologies the in interested in entering…
I’ve written a poem here, about a fallen branch from a big tree. The big branch coming down was of a slight inconvenience to the party goers, or were we selfishly thinking of ourselves, and not thinking of the “inconvenience” the damaged tree was feeling …….. again a timely reminder, of how “we think wrongly”, that we might be in charge of our planet earth !! 

My Broken Mast

Yesterday, a sudden stormy gale

Ripped through my leafy sail

And tore my oldest branch down

Crashing onto the ground

Leaving my main mast, hurtfully marred

A long open wound, and I’m painfully scarred

Mother, will dry my weeping tears

And I’ll recover to live another thirty years

Fatefully, my debris fell safely

All my owners guests escaped injury

And I left their ship damage free

Tomorrow they’ll clear my messy sea

Then rest under the shade of me

Ivor Steven (c)  Feb 2020

Another Nineteen Steps to the Top

Here’s a poem I wrote in February 2020, and our world is still needing more “Love”

Another Nineteen Steps to the Top

On a mountain top

I am a rock

A timeless clock

A window into nature’s lock

Understanding the life of trees

I share the knowledge within me

Be sunrise, or sunset of my disdain

My emotions of standing here in the rain

Flood the burning trees of my pain

Life will always be, pain or love

Our journey’s are ordained from above

Pain tests the depth of my love

Strength within my soul, is carried by my dove

Eternal is the saga of, pain and love

We never really owned it

We forgot how to extol it

We could not wear it

We’re naked without it

We need to restart, and resubmit

Ivor Steven (c)  Feb 2020

Upon The Highest Mountain. Lyrics, by ‘Lake of Tears’

I still dream of the mountains, where I used to be a king
King of all the outer realms, how I wish to return…

“Welcome back, my son, I have waited for a long time
Waited for the king to return, I have something to show you
Upon the highest mountain, way up by the horizon
Lies an ancient path, the path of the gods…”

I’ve climbed the mountains high
And walked among the clouds
I’ve reached the outer realms
Seen past the fields of wild-grown flowers

“Seek the opening of sanguine painted clouds
Carried gently upon caressing winds
There by the boundaries of seldom broken lines
Lies the way…”

These sanguine clouds I saw
Appear the heaven’s shore
Swept by the woken wind
Stray in the garden of tranquillity

“See through the many eyes of the dragonfly
Hear the flowers bloom in early spring
And see the lines of life untouched by time
Upon the way…”

All the stars are yours to hold
in your hands
All the stars are yours to share
with those there

Faerie choirs sing
And gently flap their wings
And by this creek so small
Gathered slowly, drinking unicorns

“Stray pilgrim, god to be
Stray wanderer, all these realms belong to thee”
“Stray pilgrim, god to be
Stray wanderer, all these realms belong to thee”
Small creatures coming near
Then turn to disappear
All while the faeries sing
Ode to waters, ode to the winds

“Stray pilgrim, god to be
Stray wanderer, all these realms belong to thee”

The path of the gods…

A White Wall, Whiter Than White (Re-whitewashed)

This Weekend on Weekly Prompts, it’s their first Colour Challenge of 2021 and appropriately they have chosen the colour: White. Please go over and visit their fabulous site by clicking >> Here. My poem is a “Re-Whitewash from 2 years ago..

A White Wall, Whiter Than White

I’m lying here in my white-walled bedroom

My body’s been feeling white-hot

The white ceiling fan is cooling me down

Laying under only white sheets

Covering my white skin

This is not the White House

I don’t lie that much

I’ve not white false hair

So my white halo stays on

Without looking like a silly clown

Outside, my great side wall is white

The back courtyard is safe and secure

No non-whites can’t get in or out

Unless they desperately needed to

The great backyard wall

May be easily scaled

With a sturdy white ladder

I’m trumped, here in Australia

Walls don’t even keep out the flies

I’ve been reading my history books

The white walls built in the past

They have never lasted

Over they climbed

Or under they crawled

The walls were eaten by dust mites

Resilient as a feather duster

And pulled down by liberators, in disdain and shame

Ivor Steve (c)  2019

Today Brings Tomorrow (Revised)

I am a seventy year-old writer

Another new day has arisen

A new year’s ahead

A new beginning is born

Life could turn for the worse

Below loose rocks and tired verse

Or life could improve to be better

Accruing love letters and joining the jet-setters

I have weeks to grow wiser and stronger

I have months to ponder about my book of wonder

This new year I have gained a publishing sponsor

For my words I have written in her honour 

Ivor Steven (c) December 2020

The Other Side Of Red White And Blue

Suddenly I’m awake, it’s only 1.30 am, what’s happened !!  There’s car horns and cheering, like a New Year Eve’s party, why is there such a rowdy noise going on !!  Yeah…. now I remember… happy 4th of July to all of my American family and friend’s… ENJOY……


The Other Side Of Red White And Blue

Poem by Ivor Steven, adapted to prose by Claudia Collins


It was the fourth of July. The party seems to be finished. I’m wondering how long I dozed off for. Most of my friends have gone; a few bodies left, lying on the floor. ‘Best I have a piss before I go. Now where’s that bathroom?’

‘Whoops, there’s a girl in here, dressed all in blue, and she’s on the floor, slouched in the corner, not moving. Her skin is a whiter shade of pale, red lip-stick all askew.’

Then I see myself in the mirror. My white shirt is moist and filthy; agape, splattered deep, dark red. ‘Oh no. It’s human blood!’ I turn the crumpled girl over. Her pretty blue dress, covered in blood too. ‘What’s happened? I can’t remember. Only blurry images of red, white, and blue.’ My mind goes numb, and my legs start running, out of there, in a hurry.

Thump! I trip over. I thought, ‘that bloke is asleep.’ I didn’t notice at first … his red shirt is also oozing out blood. ‘Holy hell, he’s dead too!’

I’m stumbling through the front door. Grappling, panicking, now where where do I flee? ‘Think! Yes, a nearby church has an early dawn service, a sanctuary for my burning fears.’

And bumbling into the church I go, settling upon the nearest pew. I’m white as a ghost and I turn to see who’s beside me. An eerily stunning red-haired girl, wearing a dress of red, white, and blue.

Memory flashes back, ‘It’s Her … from the party.’ She’s staring at me now, with vivid red and white eyes. I see fangs protruding over her blue lips. Dribbling fresh blood, she hisses at me and gurgles, “Did I miss one?”

The Filia Sanguine suddenly grabs my arm. And her dark-blue fingernails dig deep. I’m seized, I’m gone, I know. There’s no safe haven here.

‘Where do you go to my lovely?’

I’m screaming tears of red, white, and blue.



Ivor Steven (c)  July 2019






Waiting Time

A poem for my Dad today..

G’day dear readers, well this is my 6th poem that has been published in Geelong Writers publications during the last week. My poem appears in the Chapbook “Sailing In The Wind”. The book is the result of an Ekphrastic Writing Workshop at Boom Gallery here in Geelong.

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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)  2018


Back Home

What a difference

Twenty four hours makes

I’m back, on this other side

Of the world

I woke up dreaming

In the southern hemisphere

Feeling inside out

And upside down

I’ve gone from a warm evening

To a freezing morning

I’ve travelled in time

And I’m struggling to find my rhyme

I left my new family behind

All so generous and kind

There’s many stories to be written

About that friendly new kitchen

Now I’m having breakfast alone

But here I am, home sweet home

Ivor Steven (c)  2019

It’s Time To Leave



It’s Time To Leave


It’s time to tidy up my mess

Clean up the room and get dressed

It’s time to pack my suitcase

Fill the travel bag and vacate this place

It’s time to put on my famous rocker shoes

And walk away from this dream come true

It’s time to say heartfelt goodbyes

To these wonderful Philadelphia guys

It’s time for final hugs and kisses

Sad farewells and best wishes

It’s time for my usual emotional tears

Separate myself from these every day cheers

It’s time to flyaway from a land of Dragons and fairies

Leave this magical world of faraway families

It’s time to say a million thank you’s

For making my stay a Really Real great do

It’s time for me to travel back home

With glorious memories of this mystical thunderdome


Ivor Steven (c)  May 2019

A Tune Of Success

On this weekend, a year ago, I was in the 4th week of my stay with my cousins in Philadelphia…. and I think my body was living on adrenaline……


A Tune Of Success


I’m sleeping in today

As I awake to a rainy Sunday

Cloudy, fat drops of grey


My body needs a rest

As a happy heart, pounds in my chest

Quietly, my soul beats a tune of success


I’m living in a hive of honey and bees

Covered by flowers and hugging trees

Once an injured mystery bird, now set free



Ivor Steven (c) 2019