Throwback Friday, It Was Time To Leave

Cousin Lynn and Robin with Mungo and Kelly

Cousin Maureen and doggies Z-Z and Co-Co

Cousin Penny, and then Dave, Penny, and Ivor

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Here I am on a Jet Plane, somewhere over the Pacific Ocean. Therefore today’s Throwback Friday poem is a very appropriate finale piece, to coincide with my amazing adventures in Canada over the past 21 days.

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It Was Time To Leave (Revised)

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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 Canadian 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 berries 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 magical Astrodome

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Ivor Steven (c) September 2025

The Pot’s Still Simmering

Featured Image Above: wae created by Copilot and me.

Over at Sadje’s WDYS #325, I think my poem is appropriate for both of her prompt images. To visit her fabulous site please click >> Here.


This poem grew out of three short pieces I wrote in response to posts by fellow WordPress writers—Beth, Mark, and Dwight. Each anecdote carried its own spark, but together they formed a thread I couldn’t ignore. I’ve woven them here into one poem, a reflection on nature, emotion, and the creative fire that keeps us writing.
In stanza order, they are:
Beth – https://ididnthavemyglasseson.com/2026/01/24/the-magic
Mark – https://havocandconsequence.wordpress.com/2026/01/24/smashed-like-a-deity
Dwight – In Pursuit of Passion | Roth Poetry

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The Pot’s Still Simmering


Once upon a time, while the moon was sweeping
Just after the ice age had ceased creeping
And when the world’s sky had finished  wistfully weeping
Mother Nature always had time for her housekeeping
And would never leave “love” under the snow, sleeping

I’ve always found it difficult
to simply wash away the salty tears
The residual droplets seemed
to have crystallized upon my soul’s fears

While the pot
remains simmering
and the irons are still hot,
a passion for writing
is this poet’s lot





Ivor Steven ©  January 2026

Australia Day, Lunch at the “Cafe”

Box Office Cafe
https://www.boxofficecafe.com.au


Frankie is patiently waiting for his bacon pieces


My lunch/meal was a delicious Japanese, Okonomiyaki


Okonomiyaki: House-made Japanese cabbage & spring onion savoury pancake, topped with okonomiyaki sauce, kewpie mayo, BBQ pulled pork, fried egg, topped with bean shoot, coriander, pickled ginger, chilli, cucumber, edamame & snow pea shoot garnish, sesame seeds & fried shallots






Ivor Steven ©  January 2026

The Crescent Moon and the Dragonfly (a Tanka)

Featured Image Above: was created by Copilot and me.


Late afternoon light, a crescent moon rising, and one bold dragonfly with something to say…


The Crescent Moon and the Dragonfly (a Tanka)


“Hello, Mister Moon –
why are you so small today?”

“You should not throw stones
Pipsqueak. You’re just an insect.
I can’t even see your wings.”




A little music to settle beneath the crescent moon…




Ivor Steven ©  January 2026

When Words Wear Chains

Feature Image Above: was created by Copilot and me.

Over at Weekly Prompts, the Weekend Challenge is the word “Squish”
To visit their fabulous site, please click >>Hereand I think everything about censorship is awfully “Squishy.”


Nancy’s story on The Elephant’s Trunk [https://theelephantstrunk.org/2026/01/20/rdp-tuesday-disapprove/ ] stirred an old frustration in me — how easily free expression can be twisted, muted, or dismissed. I left a brief comment there, but the idea continued to nag at me throughout the afternoon. Sitting in a quiet corner of the café, I found myself shaping those few lines into something fuller, a small protest poem about the weight of censorship and the stubborn resilience of words. This is where that moment led.



When Words Wear Chains


Words wearing chains,
Pages awash in teary rain;
Quills feel the pain,
Like wisdom without veins
Inside lifeless brains.

How to explain
The inhumane
Of censorship’s careering train,
While the reigning regimes
Sip on foreign champagne.








Ivor Steven ©  January 2026

Discreetly Reflective


Inspired by one of Derrick Knight’s quietly atmospheric New Forest photos — which he kindly allows me to use on my poetry site >>https://derrickjknight.com/2026/01/19/decidedly-damp-2/ — this piece reflects the stillness and subtle depth held in a simple pond.

Discreetly Reflective


Discreetly, here I casually lie,
My opalescent veneer
Facing the weathered sky –
Reflective is my exterior.

Underneath, at the bottom of the weir,
A shallow coldness protects my fear
Of overexposure
To the New Forest’s frontier.
But being a reflective mirror
Is my theatrical nature



Music:“Elegy” by Lisa Gerrard & Patrick Cassidy — a quiet echo of the pond’s stillness.




Ivor Steven ©  January 2026

Throwback Friday, Where Have the Fairies Gone?

Today’s Throwback Friday poem (originally written in August 2023) is drawn from my upcoming book, Time Hears No Sound. It appears as the first poem in the Fairyland section of Chapter 9, Humour, Fantasy, and Fairyland: Timeless


Where Have The Fairies Gone?


Deep in the enchanted woods
Under mossy rocks and water-reeds
I saw an iron-bar prison door
Lying over a cave in the dry creek bed

I wondered and yelled out
“Hello! Is anyone down there?”
Eerily, a gentle voice whispered
“Do not worry, we are sheltering here.”
“Why are you hiding?” I inquired
“We are waiting for humanity
to stop the carnage on our planet.”

Then, peeping up from lower in the chasm
I witnessed that the small luminous eyes
Of Earth’s guardian faeries
Were joyless and crying



Music/Video: by Sigur Ros, “Ylur”, translated means, Warmth



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Until Eyes Hear Sound

Lulu Books >>  Until Eyes Hear Sound (lulu.com)

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Perceptions:

Amazon >>  Perceptions : Steven, Ivor, Knight, Derrick: Amazon.com.au: Books
Lulu Books >>  Perceptions (lulu.com)


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Tullawalla:

Amazon >> Tullawalla A Meeting Place Where My Empty Hands are Full of Memories and Rhymes : Steven, Ivor: Amazon.com.au: Books


OR: >> You may email me directly for a signed copy at
ivorrs20@gmail.com … and I can send you a PayPal account,
for the Book, plus Postage.


Ivor Steven ©  January 2026

“Lost and Found” Published at MasticadoresUSA

Featured Image Above: Photo by Moritz Bu00f6ing on Pexels.com

🌧️ “Lost and Found” Published at MasticadoresUSA 🌧️

I’m honoured to share that my poem “Lost and Found” has been published today at MasticadoresUSA, under the thoughtful editorial guidance of Barbara Leonhard. This piece emerged from a quiet, reflective place, where shadows gather, and the spirit seeks meaning. I’m grateful to Barbara and the Masticadores team for offering the poem a home among so many inspiring voices.

You can read “Lost and Found” >>Here, and feel the hush between the thunder.

To complement the poem’s serene mood, I’ve included Lisa O’Neill’s tender performance of “The Bleak Midwinter,” a piece that subtly echoes the poem’s reflective spirit.

Thank you, Barbara, for selecting “Lost and Found” for publication. I truly appreciate your support and the care you bring to MasticadoresUSA.

I appreciate you walking with me through this piece—may its soft shadows and light find a place to rest with you.







Ivor Steven ©  January 2026

A Pantomime, or, A Playwright

Feature Image Above: Created by Copilot and me.

This poem grew from four comment‑poems I left on two fellow poets’ pages — David’s words sparking the first and third stanzas, Nancy’s the second and fourth. When I brought those fragments together, they unfolded into a small theatrical wandering: a pantomime of thresholds, ascents, and the strange choreography of time.
In Stanza Order:
1. David; The line moves, or: By inertia – The Skeptic’s Kaddish 
2. Nancy; Thresholds – The Elephant’s Trunk
3. David; My years slowly, or: I walk – The Skeptic’s Kaddish 
4. Nancy; Ascension – The Elephant’s Trunk


A Pantomime, or, A Playwright

Sublime is time;
heeds no rhyme,
beyond our imaginary climb.
Somewhere we await a final line –
or is life just a pantomime?

Oh, I see doorways,
stairways,
and causeways
These days
I’m living in a hazy daze –
or am I wandering in a maze
of poetic cliches
and unfinished essays?

Do we climb the incline
to our ordained shrine?
Or is the causeway a surreal design,
a decline into a magnetic mine?

Under a dome of flawless white,
being elevated toward the uncorrupted light –
the beginning of a poet’s last moonlit playwright





From Lisa O’Neill’s Black Sheep “Do you want a story before you sleep?” A fitting echo for this small pantomime of doorways and moonlit climbs.


If you wish to read Lisa O’Neill’s outstanding “Black Sheep” lyrics, click on this Link >> https://genius.com/Lisa-oneill-black-sheep-lyrics



Ivor Steven ©  January 2026