Throwback Friday, Tomorrow’s Cake

I’m still stuck at home with my friendly ‘covid’ bug, and my Senryu from June 2022 seems to be quite appropriate for today.

Tomorrow’s Cake (a Senryu)

the future tastes like 

yesterday’s cake, covered with 

venom from today

Tullawalla is Available From

Jaymah Press:

Ivor Steven: email,

Amazon: search via, ‘Tullawalla by Ivor Steven’

Perceptions is Now Available via:


Jaymah Press:

Lulu Books:

OR: email me directly for a signed copy –  

Ivor Steven (c) May 2023

Will There Be a Boat To Steer? (a Tanka)

My New Year Poem, and wishing my readers a safe and healthy 2023.

Featured Imagr Above: A photo of Graeme Altmann’s amazing painting, “Hopeful Return”, from a Geelong Writers Inc. Ekphrastic Writng Workshop at the Boom Gallery, Sept 2018.

Will There Be a Boat To Steer

The new year draws near

Heavy clouds are yet to clear

From our atmosphere

Will there be a boat to steer?

Toward life’s unmapped frontier

Tullawalla is Available From

Jaymah Press:

Ivor Steven: email,

Amazon: search via, ‘Tullawalla by Ivor Steven’

Perceptions is Now Available via:

Jaymah Press:

Lulu Books:

OR: email me directly for a signed copy –

Ivor Steven (c) January 2023

The World Could Be Falling Down

Here is a poem that is in my files, but does not appear on my Website, maybe I deleted the post accidentally …

The World Could Be Falling Down

I was walking in yesterday’s deluge

up a steep holy hillside

talking to my fading shadow

that was stalking deep puddles

while I was balking today’s thunderbolts

my knees were knocking in fright

and my hips were rocking like Noah’s Ark

while shovelling leftover manure in the dark

nature’s mocking the world full of old lonely hearts

and blocking the future’s already drowning restart

Ivor Steven (c) August 2022

My Marathon’s Goal

The winter sun sets

Over my oldest day

I tick off another year

My sister reminds me

“Twenty years to go

to equal Dad’s Ninety-one”

“Is that achievable?”

I ask myself

“No harm in trying”

I tell myself

Carole’s Dad also reached Ninety-One

This is my marathon’s goal

“To walk around the moon

on my way to touching the stars”

Ivor Steven (c) July 20th 2022

Swallowed by The Sun (Revised)

On a fiery hot suburban street

Cobblestones are melting the crowd’s feet

Bursting blisters, of the ignorant

Burning souls, in the innocent

Ultraviolet rays are scorching everyone

Our world is being swallowed by the sun

Oh, what have us human’s done

All the rivers are running dry

Fish lay on barren land, wanting to die

Polar icebergs are often seen gliding by

Penguins are moaning without their icy slides

And you’ll hear the baby whales cry

As the ocean, sadly waves us goodbye

Our Angel’s wings are singed and cannot fly

Old mother earth is quickly going awry

And father time is forever asking why

Ivor Steven (c) June 2022

Tomorrow’s Cake (a Senryu)

I formed this Senryu from a comment I made in response to a poem ‘Willow’ wrote on her site on the 9th June .. thank you Willow for prompting these words …

Tomorrow’s Cake (a Senryu)

the future tastes like 

yesterday, but is topped with 

venom from today

Ivor Steven ©  June 2022

Have We the Backbone? 

Are we ever going to change? 

Our attitudes 

Are we ever going to open our eyes? 

To the faded colour of our sky 

Are we clever enough to hear? 

The distress of nature’s sounds 

Are we brave enough to declare? 

The truth within our hearts 

When will it be safe enough to feel? 

Stardust between our toes 

Have we a strong enough backbone? 

To unload all the foolish gold 

Ivor Steven (c) February 2022

Until Eyes Hear Sound

Featured Image Above: By Derrick Knight, and I am sincerely grateful to Derrick for allowing me to use his wonderful photos here in collaboration with my poems.

Until Eyes Hear Sound

The air I breathe

Purifying within

free to leave

free as the wind

I wonder at nature’s freshness

early in the morning

we take her for granted

our perennial mother earth

nurturing a new start to every day

I wish mankind could

begin afresh like her

Searches are many

answers unwound

mirrors our insanity

until eyes hear sound

Ivor Steven (c) February 2022

Who Rang the Bell 

I am a tiring old writer 

like a punch-drunk fighter 

who buckled and fell 

before the round eleven bell 

lying flat on the bloody canvas 

wishing I were ambidextrous 

like the incredible Emily Dickison 

(Oh, she must have been!) 

and have I more stories in my subconscious?

ring the bell for round twelve 

I am in the corner, blindly courageous 

sitting here within my dizziness 

waiting for the new world to stop being carnivorous 

Ivor Steven (c) January 2022