My Legislator
Sun shines through the pines.
Wattlebirds in the wattletrees.
More crows than magpies.
Butterflies and dragonflies.
Rabbits digging for carrots.
Manuscripts under the eucalypts,
Writers lighting campfires.
Poetry — no need for a legislator.
Nature is my translator.
Ivor Steven (c) November 2025
“They shall not grow old, as we that are left grow old. Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn. At the going down of the sun and in the morning we will remember them.” ~ Laurence Binyon
Let We Forget
Ivor Steven (c) 11th November 2025
Who was In My Bed?
I always make my bed in the morning
As soon as I get up.
Surprise, surprise!
When I arrived home from outing
To the Geelong Short Play Festival show
There: my bed covers, we’re all ruffled up!
“Who had been sleeping in my bed?”
When I left my house
There was only one guy inside
To look after the place
While I was out having a good time
Yep! … you guessed it
That, guilty-looking, “Frankie”
Ivor Steven (c) November 2025
“Surfacing from the sea of edits — Frankie keeps watch while I wrestle the waves of words.”
Drowning in Words
Emerging from a sea of black and white,
Normal fonts floating to the right,
Italic letters cascading to the left —
Manuscript time has been my head chef.
The last race on the card is over.
Proofreading is suffering from overexposure.
My foggy mind is resting under the cloud cover,
And I’m recuperating on a bed of clover.
“Proofreading fatigue meets sonic flood — Amanda Palmer’s ‘Drowning in the Sound’ echoes the emotional undertow of my own ‘Drowning in Words.’”
Ivor Steven © November 2025
My Facial Trim (a Haiku by Frankie)
My boos cut my hair
I haven’t seen a mirror yet!
Do I look Ok?
Ivor Steven & Frankie (c) November 2025
Throwback Friday: Shadows Revisited. First shared in January 2025, this poem now finds its place as the opening to my upcoming collection, Time Hears No Sound.
The final proofreading of my upcoming poetry collection, Time Hears No Sound, is nearly complete. This weekend marks the last quiet read-through before I send it off to my editor and publisher (Judy). Meanwhile, my talented cover designer (Kerri) is crafting the book’s visual soul. There’s still a journey ahead, but everything is unfolding beautifully. Thank you for walking beside me.
Lost and Found – or – There, Here, and Where?
There
Lying on solid ground,
my shallow shadow wears no face
And utters no sound.
Here
My outline bears no carapace.
Where
On a graveside mound,
I see my darkness —
waiting to be found.
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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 © November 2025
“Then, contented with my state,
Where true pleasure may be seen,
Let me envy not the great,
On a cheerful village green.” … from “The Village Green”, a poem by Jane Taylor.
The Village Green (a Tanka)
There’s something calming
About watching birds flying
At the village green
Among the picnickers and
Through our springtime’s shady trees
Ivor Steven (c) November2025
A Warm and Wet Spring Day
Our ever-changing spring is here again.
We’ve been walking between affectionate raindrops,
dodging the refilling, familiar puddles,
and watching Mudlark’s waddle in the ponds
We’ve appreciated nature’s flirtatious ways
refreshing our frazzled faculties.
Ivor Steven © November 2025
Featured Image Above: Black-and-white photo of a street art mural depicting a tug-of-war between a Russian and Ukrainian soldier on a war memorial in Izyum, Ukraine. (Getty Images photo)
Hello, dear readers and followers. I write for Coffee House Writers magazine (USA) fortnightly, and my poem “Restore Rapport” is in this week’s edition.
Written in the quiet hours of early morning, Restore Rapport is a poetic protest against the machinery of war and the silence that surrounds it. Inspired by the ongoing conflicts in Ukraine and the Middle East, this piece asks: Where is the understanding? What are innocent lives being sacrificed for?
“Peace cannot be kept by force; it can only be achieved by understanding.” — Einstein
To read the poem, please click the link below to visit my Coffee House Writers Magazine article.
>> https://coffeehousewriters.com/restore-rapport/
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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 © November 2025
Sunlit wanderers above the trees—wattlebirds in motion, igniting the sky with feathered sparks and poetic wonder.
Wings of the Sun (a Tanka)
They often ask why
I love to watch wattlebirds
Fly under the sun:
“their colourful plumes ignite
my eye’s imagination.”
Ivor Steven (c) November 2025
Ivor.Plumber/Poet 