Featured Image Above: created by Bing Co-pilot and me.
Blotting Paper
Sleep has not rejuvenated
my weary bones,
nor repaired the clogged gears
in my rusty brain.
Now, the regeneration process
is up to the nature of daylight –
to reignite the candle
in the inky alcove of my soul.
Where, the sodden blotting paper
has become my night-time traitor
Caught mid-glide—today’s prima donna
Prima Donnas (a Tanka)
Unrivalled they glide
Wattlebirds attract my eye
Morning silhouettes
Below nature’s silver screen
Prima donnas of the sky
Ivor Steven (c) December 2025
Listen while reading: Sigur Rós – Vaka (Untitled 1).
A Mid-morning Affair
Out beyond the doorway
Facing the great southern sky
I look up sideways to the east
And the mid-morning sun
Discovers my squinting eyes
Then I turn to the west
Where the mid-morning moon
Shyly locates my awakened stare
Here I stand, fair and square
Between the sun’s golden flare
And the moon’s untold affair
I wonder about the world’s current despair
Or should I declare
“Why is the world in such disrepair”
Ivor Steven (c) December 2025
Today’s Throwback Friday poem (originally written in March 2025) is drawn from my upcoming book, Time Hears No Sound. It opens Chapter 6, Travel and Life: Time Flies (Travel)
Flying Among the Clouds
I’m flying high
Cruising among the clouds
Fly with me
And the rest of my flock
Up here
There’s no need for a clock
Time gives no commands
Cruising among the clouds
Silently overseeing the crowd
Time always flies
At the same standard pace
There, in that space
Between daytime’s silvery moon
And twilight’s glittery sun
.
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 © December 2025
This poem grew from poetic anecdotes I first shared as comments on fellow bloggers’ posts. In stanza order, they are:
1. Sara >> Random Numbers | purplepeninportland
2. Dwight >> https://rothpoetry.wordpress.com/2025/11/25/aging-without-numbers
3. Ivor >> a personal reflection.
Time Hears No Numbers
There is a number attached to everything,
Tracking them down is overwhelming;
Tallying the total is mind-boggling.
I perceive, with a twinkle
in my blurry eye,
an extra wrinkle
on my milky thigh.
But I do not cry
at the number of crinkles
that falsely belie
the sounds of my
life’s happy jingles.
The number of memories shall not diminish
until time decrees, “you’re finished.”
Accompanied by Sleeping At Last’s “Saturn” performed live with the Symphony Orchestra, this poem listens for the echoes beyond numbers—where memory, music, and existence intertwine.
Ivor Steven (c) December 2025
Note: All images on my poetry site today are reproduced with the kind permission of Derrick Knight, whose post Sun-Burnished inspired the following piece.
https://derrickjknight.com/2025/12/06/sun-burnished/
I’m on the Brink, I Think
The trees’ reflections upon
winter’s rippling pond
do not waver, nor move along.
The upside-down precinct
Is Nature’s picturesque ink.
Afloat on the cold water,
the images do not sink,
and never appear to shrink.
Here I am, on the brink
of creation’s universal link,
Wondering why
there are so many kinks
in our ability to think.
Ivor Steven (c) December 2025
Sometimes, the moon finds us before we find ourselves.
Finding My Twilight Zone
Above the evensong’s
crimson horizon,
The silvery crescent moon
monastically glows alone,
Atop twilight’s purple zone.
Blessed and fortuitously gratified,
I surreptitiously return home,
Feeling miraculously satisfied.
A silvery crescent glows alone above twilight’s purple hush—accompanied by Nightwish’s “Sleeping Sun,” this moment finds its voice.
Ivor Steven (c) December 2025
Golden Silhouettes (a Haiku)
Retiring crows fly
Across the golden sunset
I’m a blessed guest
Ivor Steven (c) December 2025
“Aftermath—time to rest our bones, with coffee, words, and Flight 505…”
Aftermath (aTanka)
Today is our time,
after the show is over –
to rest our old bones,
relax and regenerate
ourselves for the next event.
Ivor Steven (c) December 2025
A moonlit vigil by the water’s edge—where nature holds our hand, and time listens in.
A Becalmed Right Hand
Blue tranquility inundates the land;
Mother Nature is holding our becalmed right hand
While the moon watchfully scans
the horizon’s aquatic grandstand.
And here we solemnly stand,
on the edge of evening-tide’s unveiled sand,
Waiting for grandfather time to understand
the World’s Pacifist Band is badly undermanned.
Ivor Steven (c) December 2025
Ivor.Plumber/Poet 