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
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
Again, it’ll be 40 °C here today, and hopefully, the likelihood of more bushfires will be minimal.
Different Skies (a Haiku)
Storm clouds that don’t cry
Then we wonder why there is
Smoke clouds in the sky
Ivor Steven © January 2026
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
.
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 © January 2026
Carbonating the Sky (a Tanka)
The bright midday sun
Illuminates the birds’ plumes
Like nature’s jewels
Carbonating the blue sky
Bedazzling my squinting eyes
Ivor Steven © January 2026
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
My response to Sadje’s WDYS, prompt
>> https://lifeafter50forwomen.com/2026/01/19/what-do-you-see-324-19-january-2026/
Dry Droplets (a Haiku)
Footprints in the sand
Dry droplets upon the dunes
Thirsting for dreamland
Ivor Steven (c) January 2026
Featured ImageAbove: Created by Copilot and me.
Winds outside and storms within. Nature shifting, people shifting, and a song that carries the ache of distance. A small piece for looking outward, and inward, at the same time.
Don’t Open the Venetian Blinds
Turbulent seas,
And broken trees
Nature’s wild winds –
Do spellbind mankind’s
Undefined minds.
Buckled knees,
And breaks in the bay’s
Protective quays
Nature’s stone-blind to mankind’s
Redesigned minds.
Ivor Steven © January 2026
Over at Weekly Prompts, the Weekend Challenge is the word ‘Journal.’ To visit their fabulous site, please click >> Here
“This morning’s muse — wings caught mid-thought.”
My Journal’s Wings
High above my poetic eye I fly,
where the early birds gracefully glide by
across the bright morning sky.
And in my journal, I pause to ask why
birds become the muses of my word supply—
as if their wings remind me
that thought itself is a kind of flight,
and every line I write
is another way of learning
how to rise.
Ivor Steven © January 2026
A whispered protest beneath a heavy sky—this poem emerged over coffee and quiet defiance.
No More Alibis
I shyly worry, and quietly sigh
about today’s ugly, dark sky.
In the blink of an eye,
the sun might say, “Hi”
and the world awry,
could be rectified.
No more alibis,
or black eyes.
It’s time to notify
the blow-dried wise guy:
The world is not his money supply
We will not be tongue-tied,
nor listen to his falsified
“War cry.”
Ivor Steven © January 2026
Ivor.Plumber/Poet 