At the End of Day (a Haiku)

While the rainstorm moves on, the sky remembers only light. Beneath a rain-washed evening sky, golden sunlight broke through the clouds and illuminated the horizon. Nature seemed content to begin again.




At the End of Day (a Haiku)

Following the rain
Nature is smiling again
She feels not our pain




The rainstorm moved on, the sky remembered only light, and this song seemed a fitting companion to the evening.




Ivor Steven © October 2026

Unfazed

Some poems arrive unexpectedly. This one began with a coffee, a rainy Sunday, and a flock of local ibis flying low beneath lingering clouds. As I watched their steadfast progress through the weather, I found myself reflecting on the grace of creatures that simply continue on their way, unfazed by conditions that might send the rest of us searching for shelter.




Unfazed


Flying low under the radar
below the lingering, languid clouds
a flock of local ibis is gracefully gliding
under the stuporous shroud

Unfazed by the sun’s faded gaze
and the daytime moon’s invisible luna blaise
the birds remain elegantly close-knit
and cooperatively proud.

Amazed, watching from this cosy café
where warmth and weather meet as one,
I envy their impassive passage,
those steadfast, unbending birds
through the world’s relentless rain.





Sometimes the sky, the birds, and the music all arrive on the same day. For me, this piece now belongs to the birds and the weather.



Ivor Steven © October 2026

Evil Nuclei

Featured Image Above: Originally my blurry photo, which was then sharpened and enhanced by Copilot

High above the clouds, a lone dragonfly pauses to contemplate a world seemingly intent on creating its own troubles. Sometimes a fortunate photograph becomes a poem. In this case, a blurred dragonfly inspired an unsettling phrase and the lines that followed.





Evil Nuclei

I’m a lone dragonfly
in a vast, bedazzling sky
wondering why
there are no other guys
up here passing by.

Wait, down there,
between Dubai and Versailles,
I see a swarm of evil nuclei
flying toward the forests of Paraguay,
in search of a shady alibi.






As the dragonfly drifts across a bedazzling sky, Moby’s Porcelain lingers among the clouds.




Ivor Steven © October 2026

Fervid Feathers

Under a cloudless spring sky, the afternoon sun burnished every wing and feather with a brilliant sheen. Their restless movements through sun, shade, and breeze inspired the following poem, drafted with an HB pencil on a very warm afternoon at the café.





Fervid Feathers



The burnished birds
have warily bathed enough
under spring’s hot midday sun.

Their reflective, fervid feathers
shimmer like sails
of sleek black satin.

Then, frantically, the sun-polished birds
follow the flighty dragonflies and bees
into the succoring shady trees.

Refreshing their fervid feathers
in the afternoon’s soothing
sea breeze.




As the afternoon heat fades into a soothing sea breeze, here is a charming little song to accompany today’s feathered observations, and one that may be new to some readers.



Ivor Steven © October 2026

Throwback Friday, Please! No More Encores (Written by Frankie)

Quote: “Why do the war’s doors stay closed to friendly paws?” 🐾 … Frankie 🐶

Frankie wrote this poem on October 21st, 2024. In just a few lines, he imagines a peaceful world with an open door, an earthen floor, and a green décor. It is also a heartfelt plea that humanity stops applauding war’s repeated appearances.


Before the poem, here is Matisyahu’s inspiring “One Day”.





Please! No More Encores (Written by Frankie)



When war is over
My door will stay open
The floor is earthen
My decor is green
I adore the theme

Please!
No more encores
I abhor
The vapour
Of war





Frankie asks for no more encores. The music that follows reflects on why they keep returning, disguised and renamed, as though each generation must learn the same lesson again.

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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 invoice
for the Book, plus Postage.



Ivor Steven © October 2026

Is Time A Daydream?

A rainbow above, a wattlebird lifting below — and somewhere between them, a little daydream opened. This poem follows that gentle climb into thin air, where time loosens, and words drift without lines.





Is Time A Daydream?

Wattlebirds and rainbows
do not rhyme,
but both are sublime,
and glow in the sunshine
there above my eyeline.

Perhaps a mirage of mine
inside my mind
during my daydream time.

Where life is not a crime,
and the tall alpines
are painless to climb.

Up there,
beyond thin air,
I breathtakingly find —
only words with no lines.



For those still wandering between half-waking and half-dreaming… as daydream time drifts beyond thin air, let this beautiful song carry the journey a little further.



Ivor Steven © October 2026

Half Moon, Half Asleep, Half Awake

Moon adrift in cloud.
Pigeon in full flight.
A weary poet somewhere between the two.





Half Moon, Half Asleep, Half Awake


This morning I am sluggishly half asleep.
The chunky, cloudy sky’s
delaying my half-open eyes
from having a closer peep.

Today I am drowsy and half awake
The heavy, humid atmosphere’s
preventing the release
of my other half’s quiet airbrakes.

Outside, among the surreal world’s
shrouds, I nonchalantly await
for my animated cosmetic twirls
to create an awakening earthquake.






No expectations, just a half moon, a passing pigeon. The poem arrived slowly. So did the afternoon. So did this song.




Ivor Steven © October 2026

Throwback Friday, Our Last Stand

This is a poem I haven’t seen since writing it in October 2019. Today, as is my way, I’ve made a few small revisions, but the essence of the original remains intact.




Our Last Stand (Revised)

Crawling over barren pastures of land,
On detergent feet and hands,
Old arms are now empty of nature’s seeds,
I only see future investment greed.

And history’s lessons are hard to understand,
When we’re taught disrespect by corporate bands,
Who only extinguish life into grains of sand,
Instead of regenerating our planet’s last stand






Originally written in 2019 and revisited today, Our Last Stand finds a fitting companion in Archive’s haunting Again, a song that echoes the poem’s reflective mood and enduring message.


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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 invoice
for the Book, plus Postage.



Ivor Steven ©  October 2026

Presiding (a Haiku)

Some poems arrive quickly, while others rest patiently in the drafts. After a quiet wait of a few weeks, this haiku seemed ready to take its place among recent reflections on nature and birds.





Presiding (a Haiku)


Here I calmly be
Overseeing twilight time
The day’s final stand





Today’s haiku is accompanied by Glen Hansard’s beautiful live performance of “Her Mercy”, a song that seemed to share the poem’s quiet patience and reflective spirit.



Ivor Steven ©  October 2026

Nature’s Wings

Watching birds in flight, I am often struck by their grace and seeming freedom from the burdens we humans create for ourselves. Inspired by a series of bird photographs, this poem begins with nature’s gifts before quietly turning its gaze towards a troubled world below.





Nature’s Wings

Birds have wondrous wings
and can also sprightly sing

Birds’ lovely lightweight feathers
can glide and hover forever

Birds have perceptive eyes
and do not criticise or demonise

Birds possess sensitive ears
and escape the world’s warring fears

Birds shun the battered ground
while eyes still hear that shattered sound





While shaping this poem at the café, I heard “Lift” by Marisa Anderson and felt this gentle melody drifting on the same wings that inspired today’s poem.



Ivor Steven ©  October 2026