Author: ivor20

G'day, and welcome to my blog site. My name is Ivor Steven, I live in Geelong, Australia. I'm an ex-industrial chemist, and a retired plumber, and a former Carer of my wife(Carole), for 30 years, who suffered from severe MS. I Write poetry about those personal thoughts, throughout and beyond my life as a Carer. I've been blogging for over 2 years, and writing poems for 19 years. Of course a lot of my poems are about my favourite subject Carole, but since I've been blogging my writings have become quite varied, humourous, mystical, observational, and even a few monster/horror poems.

Time Hears No Numbers


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

I’m 0n the Brink, I think


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


Finding My Twilight Zone

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

A Becalmed Right Hand


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

Throwback Friday, A Fire That Burns in the Cold


Today’s Throwback Friday poem (originally written in July 2025) is drawn from my upcoming book, Time Hears No Sound. It appears in Chapter 5, Dreaming: A Poet’s Favourite Pastime


A Fire That Burns in the Cold


From behind the trees,
And out of the grasses,
We cannot stop the fire
-That burning desire-
From soaring higher,
Higher than the entire
Starry, starry choir.

So, best we inquire
To the Almighty Supplier:
“Will there be a ceasefire
at the top of your golden spire?”






Ivor Steven (c) December 2025

Creative Geelong Christmas Market Weekend

“The Market Opens at 5.00 pm Today”

Hi, dear readers and especially my Geelong Followers.
THIS FRIDAY 5 December

A Creative Christmas Market 5pm-9pm. Market stalls, workshops, and entertainment.


THIS SATURDAY 6 December

MAYD Xmas Festival – 10am-3pm – 40 stalls of makers and art. Open art studios, galleries, collectables, vintage

PLUS official opening of THE GIFT group show at Untether Gallery + Studio 1:30-3:30pm


Come to the Centrepoint Arcade on Friday, December 5th, from 5 pm to 9 pm, and Saturday 6th, from 10 am to 3 pm.
I’ll be at the “Ivor’s Books” stall with my books “Tullawalla, Perceptions, and Until Eyes Hear Sound”, as well as various other Anthologies and Chapbooks. They could be that “Something Different” gift idea for Christmas.






Ivor Steven (c) December 2025

The Snail and the Butterfly





The Snail and the Butterfly


Midmorning; the day is breathing,
and Steve the snail is cruising.

I espy where he has been,
and I innately know who he wants to see.

Betty, the pretty butterfly,
is fluttering down from the trees.

A rendezvous with Steve is nigh.





Like Sigur Rós, breathing life into a quiet town, Steve and Betty meet in the stillness of morning.




Ivor Steven (c) December 2025

Summer Forgotten

A wintry first of December—where summer forgets itself beneath cloud and quiet flight.


Summer Forgotten

December ‘one’ has forgotten to remember
that it is the first day of summer.

Nature’s clandestine cloud-lover
has eloped with the sun’s warm river.

There shall be no supernova today;
even the hardy magpie has run away.







Ivor Steven (c) December 1st 2025