In the soft morning blue, the half‑moon lingers as a gentle witness, watching the wattlebird rise into its own wide freedom.
The Moon and the Wattlebird (a Tanka)
Even the half moon
Selflessly watches you fly
Toward the deep sky
There, within your winged freedom
You will never be alone
Under the half‑moon’s gentle watch, wherever the flight leads, every journey carries a presence that walks beside it.
Ivor Steven © June 2026
Twilight’s Afterglow (a Haiku)
It’s wet and windy
But there in twilight’s cold sky
An afterglow winks
“In this place of darkness and malediction we can but stand in awe and remember its stateless, faceless and nameless victims. Close your eyes and look: endless nocturnal processions are converging here, and here it is always night. Here heaven and earth are on fire.” — Elie Wiesel
A reminder that even in a world shadowed by sorrow, the night still offers its quieter lights — small, celestial gestures that help us keep looking up.
Two Heavenly Lights
I’m a sucker for a crescent moon,
and there below his silver spoon
on this cloudy wintry night
I espied another bright light —
a vision unexpectedly imbued,
sidling toward the glowing moon.
Venus, elegantly blushing with attractiveness,
and the moon beaming with handsomeness —
two twinkling heavenly lights
coyly conversing through the veil of night.
Ivor Steven © June 2026
A moonlit whisper drifts across the strawberry field, where the night’s small wonders gather for their secret celebration.
A Magical Mushroom Party
Did you hear — on the grapevine
about the magic mushroom party?
The local fungi
have peacefully impregnated
the neighbourhood strawberry field
and all moonlit buttons are welcome.
Grab an umbrella and your gumboots,
bring your own spores and a watering can.
…join the cheery clan,
there’s plenty of toadstools,
and the soirée’s fairy rings
of our magical and mysterious land
have conjured up the old Beatles band.
And as the fairy rings keep peacefully humming, the old songs rise again beneath the glowing caps of night.
Ivor Steven © June 2026
This poem grew from three small conversations across the WordPress community — first with David, then with Nancy, and then with David once more. Each reply carried its own quiet image, and when I gathered them together, they seemed to form a single drift of thought, as if the words had slipped through the same window and landed in one place.
In stanza order, they are.
1. David: Sketches, poems, scraps, or: Dreams – The Skeptic’s Kaddish
2. Nancy: Unread Message – The Elephant’s Trunk
3. David: Intellectual or Public introspectual – The Skeptic’s Kaddish
Between light and shadow, these moments gather — small echoes leading toward the words that follow.
Written in response to Sadje’s ‘What Do You See? #345’ prompt
>> What do you see # 345- 15, June- 2026 – Keep it alive
A quiet moment at the window that opened into the poem below
Words Fall Through the Window
Looking through a window
Searching for tomorrow
There is only an afterglow
As life lingers in limbo
Petals softly fall
Knowing the sound of silence
“Do not wait for me”
Sailing alone in my rescue craft
I sense a spirited updraught
rising through the stairwell’s shaft
Where the view softens, and the silence deepens, somewhere beyond the glass, the music carries what the words leave behind
Ivor Steven © June 2026
Below is a small acrostic piece – a few lines arranged to catch the essence of the moment, a kind of epitome distilled from the fading light.
As the golden eye strained to feel the light, twilight gathered what the day left behind
Our DATE with Destiny
Deep behind twilight’s hessian sky
And down below the auburn horizon
There resides life’s golden eye
Ethereally aware of Earth’s dying oceans
As the world wilts under the strain
Do we hold the weight of what remains?
As the light settles – for the feelings that linger after the day is done, here is the song that holds them.
Ivor Steven © June 2026
After a long night, the morning sky offered its own remedy — wings, leaves, and laughter in the air.
The Best Hangover Cure (a Haiku)
Birds, trees, and fresh air
Where nature will soothe my soul
And an aching head
For days like this, even the sky knows the cure.
Ivor Steven © June 2026
This morning’s winter sun momentarily slipped through the clouds just long enough to set the eucalyptus leaves shimmering.
The Sun’s Winter Glow
Mother Nature’s wryly smiling, silently proud
there above the lingering dark clouds.
The waning winter sun shyly glows,
and its diffused light knows
how to make the eucalyptus leaves sparkle
during the season’s arctic cycle.
A stillness to sit with, as the day folds into the deeper quiet where winter light lingers.
Ivor Steven © June 2026
Before dawn settled, and after a sleepless night, these small doorways into a wandering mind found their way into my bedside notebook…
An unexpected sign on our walk home — a cheerful echo to the morning’s wandering thoughts
The Poet’s Secret Notebook
Turn the poet’s page
Feel his restless rage
Open secret doors
Hunger for more
Repair broken windows
Learn from nature’s crows
Your windows are not mirrors
Reflections are not the jurors’
Follow your dreams
Do not listen to machines
From secret pages to shifting strings, may the music carry the last of these wandering thoughts into your dreams
Ivor Steven © June 2026
Only posted on my site on June 1st, submitted the next day, and published yesterday — a beautifully swift and heartening response from Spillwords.
I’m absolutely ecstatic to share that my poem “Between the Moon and Clouds” has been accepted and published in Spillwords Magazine this week. My heartfelt thanks to editor Dagmara for selecting my piece — her support means the world.
You can read the poem on Spillwords by clicking the link below, and if you feel moved to, you’re welcome to leave a 💗 for the article:
>> https://spillwords.com/between-the-moon-and-clouds/
Please note: the featured image above was kindly supplied by Spillwords Press.
written by: Ivor Steven
They say the world is changing,
but the moon cannot stop frowning,
while nature is unerringly hurting,
beneath our fettered feet.
Between the worried moon
and the settling clouds,
I perceive a loud rumbling sigh
from beyond the deep blue sky.
In one ferocious breath, Thor decries,
“Beware of the ground’s ringleader’s lies
about the Earth’s visible demise,
and hear the crust’s cries
with your own eyes.
Ivor Steven was formerly an Industrial Chemist, then a Plumber, now retired. He has had numerous poems published in anthologies and online magazines. He has 2 self-published books, “Tullawalla” and “Perceptions,” and is an active member of the Geelong Writers Inc. (Australia) and an appointed writer for “Coffee House Writers” magazine (USA).
Just days after first sharing these thoughts on June 1st — born in that quiet space between day and night — Spillwords welcomed the poem into their pages with a wonderfully swift response
Ivor Steven © June 2026
