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

.

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.

.

It Was Time To Leave (Revised)

.

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

.

.

Ivor Steven (c) September 2025

This week’s Coffee House Writers Magazine features my new poem, “A Fistful of Sand.”

Featured Image Above: In the last light of day, even a weakened sun can show how much of our shared humanity has slipped away.



Hello, dear readers and followers. I contribute to Coffee House Writers magazine (USA) every second week, and I’m delighted to share that my latest poem, “A Fistful of Sand,” appears in the new issue. You can read it by following the link below.
>> A Fistful of Sand – Coffee House Writers






.


Until Eyes Hear Sound

Amazon >> Amazon.com : Until Eyes Hear Sound

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




Perceptions:

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




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 ©  March 2026

My Sunflower (a Tanka)

Bathed in soft morning light, this bright sunflower greeted me today — lifting my spirits and reminding me how instinctively nature leans toward renewal.





My Sunflower (aTanka)

Good morning sunshine
Your yellow blush warms my heart
And restores my faith
In humanity’s instinct
To revive our tired planet







Ivor Steven ©  March 2026

Beyond the Golden Eye

Featured Image Above: Created by Copilot and me.
“A circling flock of Corellas rises beyond the golden eye — twilight’s quiet lantern.”

Over at Weekly Prompts, it’s time for the One Day Prompt. To visit their fabulous site, please click >> Here
I’ve used a bit of ‘poetic license,’ and only got as far as “One” without the “Day.”




Beyond the Golden Eye

Tonight’s fluorescent twilight sky
is strikingly dominated by
one enchanting golden eye.

The illustrious iris silhouettes
The horizon’s sleepy statuettes,

and a circling flock of Corellas
looks like an inverted umbrella,
full of luminous candelas.









Ivor Steven ©  March 2026

The Desert’s Killing Fields (a Tanka)

The pigeon’s sudden lift feels like a warning — a fragile life rising above a landscape shaped by pipes, oil, and the killing fields we still feed.


The Desert’s Killing Fields (a Tanka)

The old pigeon flees
From what we cannot perceive
Beneath the earth’s trees
Miles of pipes, full of black gold
The killing fields we still feed






Ivor Steven ©  March 2026

Peripheral Blindness

A moment in the fading light, where shadows reveal more than they hide.





Peripheral Blindness


The Twilight Zone cracks
are opening wider —
the dullness is growing darker.

Our blindness shadows
fall sharper,
and we are quickly losing sight
of what once made us smarter.








Ivor Steven ©  March 2026

The World’s Spiritual Watchtower





The World’s Spiritual Watchtower


I’m fused to this planet,
and my synthetic walking shoes
are wearing thin on the granite.

I’m confused and sadly bemused
by humanity’s wayward news.

I gaze up at our radiant sun
and wonder about the solar power
that goes unused by the tonne.

I see birds cruising on the wind
angling their wings
toward the sun’s golden rind,
as if spellbound
by the mystical rising.

A glowing, cosmic sunflower
quietly expanding outwards
and shining upwards
to become the world’s
spiritual watchtower





A watchtower of sound to meet the poem’s rising light





Ivor Steven ©  March 2026

Photos From Our Time in Booktown.

Photos From Our Time in Booktown.

Friday afternoon
Was set‑up time for both the Bookstall Vendors and the Food Vendors — a quiet buzz of preparation before the weekend unfolded.


Saturday:
Was all about settling in and getting to know our fellow book vendors in Marquee T — Robert, Janette, Suzanne & Karen, Collin, and Lynette.

Although officially “T”, we were affectionately nicknamed the Zombie Marquee, thanks to Robert’s eye‑catching banner at the entrance.


Of course, my assistant salesman was the true star attraction of my bookstall.

Down at ground level, under the tables, Frankie and the little girl next door — tucked beneath her dad’s table of books — became fast friends.

Every now and then, we wandered through the festival to soak up the wonderful carnival atmosphere.


There was dancing in the streets, violin music drifting from a balcony, giant book readers roaming about, and even Larry the Lizard slithered into our tent to say hello.


Sunday brought another magical day of sunshine, stories, and festival energy.
If you have Facebook, hopefully the link below will open for you:
>> https://l.facebook.com/l.php?u=https%3A%2F%2Ffb.watch%2FF-r0NXVzFK%2F%3Ffs%3De%26fbclid%3DIwZXh0bgNhZW0CMTAAYnJpZBExam42MWJ1a0lvdmZHajNkSHNydGMGYXBwX2lkEDIyMjAzOTE3ODgyMDA4OTIAAR6zEi-V3RRYcEtu31mWJm9y9GYGr7MJi0z2aH6k___S3IhogIluLB69kOw15A_aem_EbG9tWQj2hbxUzTPQdLTIQ&h=AT6GGOr3lyKaFT5AxusRGenQaPeF_uot1i_Kf4PGHX5pxXJ7M-5nUBolH71yQCOvD6KfzPCEEXsB_aU7b03SJKwu2kSqsNDQ_oZp0bYIeQvge89RYUfgAw_PfdlA-Ii9_NTMKg

After a magical weekend in Booktown, the wagon rolls home with tired feet and happy hearts.


And as the last notes fade, we carry Booktown home with us — tired feet, full hearts, and memories that will linger long after the carnival is over.










Ivor Steven ©  March 2026

The Sky’s Pearls

A lone bird soars above the morning mist — echoing the clarity of my hilltop poem and the emotional lift of “Letters From The Sky.


Pearls from the sky, my courtyard flowers …

A sky scattered with quiet treasures, waiting for the morning to find them




The Sky’s Pearls



Life is uncomplicated
On my elevated hilltop;
Here, the air I breathe is untainted.

My courtyard’s world
Grows high above the town,
Yet I never look down
Nor frown on the town’s ground.

Instead, I gaze up at the sky’s pearls,
Where starry swirls and twirls,
Majestically unfurl.








Ivor Steven ©  March 2026

From Beyond Nowhere

A lucky snapshot: a bird crossing an invisible line between sun and sky, caught in the quiet shimmer of possibility.


From Beyond Nowhere


Below the invisible line,
Between the sun and time,
It is impossible to know
That what we perceive
Are the stars’ definitive stare,
Or, whether the outer glow
Is the universe’s cosmic snow
From beyond nowhere.







Ivor Steven ©  March 2026