This Tanka was inspired by a moment of stillness and lift — a bird rising into the blue, catching the wind as if it knew exactly where it needed to go. It’s a small meditation on movement, uncertainty, and the quiet hope that carries us toward calmer places.
To Catch the Wind (a Tanka)
Let me catch the wind,
blowing toward the unknown,
where silver seeds grow
into peaceful olive trees.
beyond the world’s toxic snow.
Ivor Steven © March 2026
All the Essentials are packed
Clunes, here we come!
The Clunes Booktown Festival, one of Australia’s largest and most-loved literary gatherings, celebrates its 20th Anniversary this year. I’ll be there this weekend, March 21st and 22nd, set up in one of the bustling Book Trader Marquees (Fraser St, Marquee “T”) with Frankie beside me, proudly taking on his role as assistant salesman and crowd‑greeter. With the days full of books, conversations, and festival buzz, I won’t be blogging much over the weekend — but once we’re back home and the dust has settled, I’ll share a few stories and photos from our time in Booktown.
As always, it should be a wonderful weekend in Booktown, and I’m looking forward to sharing a few highlights once Frankie and I return.
Wishing everyone a wonderful weekend — and if you’re heading to Clunes, do stop by and say hello.
Ivor Steven © March 2026
In a world scarred by mines, machines, and careless extraction, the sky remains a refuge for those who choose to protect rather than exploit. These Black Knights rise through that open air as nature’s quiet defenders, calling us to join their watch.
Black Knights
We are nature’s Black Knights,
guardians of the planet’s salvage rights.
Watch us soar into the light
There above the earth’s trees,
where the atmosphere is free,
beyond the Daleks of mankind’s
dreadful coalmines and destructive landmines.
“
Now is the time to become a member
of our sky’s peaceful nerve centre.
We welcome all monitors, menders,
clever inventors, and recycled pretenders.
Ivor Steven © March 2026
Mystique Surrounds Me
Twilight ignites its shadowed secrets.
Do I fly into the mystique,
where clouds burn like prophecy,
and my wings are ashes of desire?
Will these old, singed feathers
still lift me from this wartorn land—
or must I wait here forever
grounded by this inferno’s demands
“Where light fractures, the will to rise endures.“
Ivor Steven © March 2026
Featured Image Above: is of my silver teaspoon with the initials “MS” (Multiple Sclerosis) embossed on the handle button.
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, “Between, Inside, and Beyond,” appears in the new issue. You can read it by following the link below.
>> Between, Inside, and Beyond – Coffee House Writers
And a big thank you to Nancy >> Knocking: A Thursday Inspiration – The Elephant’s Trunk, whose intriguing article inspired the opening stanza of my poem.
.
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
Born at 3 am on a scribble pad, when crumbs of musing refused to let me sleep.
An Unfathomable Mess
To near and far,
from inside a cookie jar,
I send my midnight scribbles.
I must confess,
I’ve delved so deep
into crumbled musings
and drowsy dribbles,
I’ll need to decompress
before I resurface
for a peep
at my unfathomable mess.
A gentle goodnight to follow my unfathomable mess.
Ivor Steven © March 2026
Once numbering in the tens of millions, the “bulbous” bison were nearly wiped out — victims of human greed and policy.
Over at Weekly Prompts, the weekend challenge is the word bulbous. And you visit their fabulous site by clicking >> Here.
Insatiable Sapiens
A flock of birds
fly together.
Herds of animals
graze together.
Humans of different creeds
blast each other apart –
for their stockpiled seed,
and insatiable greed.
A quiet reckoning beneath the branches we share.
Ivor Steven © March 2026
When the clouds part, the sky opens its eyes — bright, unblinking, and honest. In their gaze, our own shadows feel harder to ignore.
Cats Eyes (a Haiku)
Nature’s dark disguise
Has yellow slit-pupiled eyes
Scanning our black lies
Ivor Steven © March 2026
Today’s Throwback Friday poem (originally written in June 2023) is drawn from my upcoming book, Time Hears No Sound. It appears as the second poem in Chapter 11, Poetry in Slow Motion: Who’s Keeping Time.
“Down to the Valley” was written on a day when I strayed from the usual path, letting the landscape guide the poem. It’s a small journey into the unexpected, where nature and recollection meet.
Down To the Valley
Roaming.
Off the beaten track
Over sagged wire fences
Through plowed fields
Down to the valley below
Where sunflowers grow
Detouring.
Across the babbling brook
Toward the castle of broken glass
Cocooned together in woven grass
Until time awakens the past
.
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
Beneath this heavy sundown, the cracks in our modern bravado show themselves — in the sky, in the poem, and in the song that shadows them both.
The Heavy Sound of Sundown
I feel the heavy copper sundown
shake the dry, crusty ground
of this dirty old town.
I hear an orange clown,
slyly searching around
for a silent sound
that is not profound.
I see the world’s wedding gown
being torn and drowned,
as the desert honeymoon
remains uncrowned and hellbound.
Ivor Steven © March 2026
Ivor.Plumber/Poet 