Category: Photos

Did you see my fiery faerie in the sky

Hitching a ride upon her giant dragonfly

Half a mile above cloud nine

She was there! Clutching todays sunshine

And burning towards never-neverland

Shying away from the captains crooked hand

Desperately looking for Peter Pan’s lost boys

And their purple suitcase full of magical toys



Below on the water she hears muffled cries and a loud “tick-tock”

“Beware!” Tinkerbell declares “That’s the Crocodile’s clock”

Fearlessly my faerie swoops and snatches the boys off the pirate-ship deck

And the boys yell “We’re saved from the jaws of those roughnecks”

Ivor Steven (c) October 2020

Fifty years have flown bye

And I’ll never forget ‘American Pie’

It’s True, old rockers never die

Their music shall always fly

There above in Leonard’s Tower of Song

Where they are all singing along

Imagining John’s words were not wrong

Will our new lyrics be as strong?

Ivor Steven (c) October 2020

From here in Australia, I’ve been reading the stories about Mr Trump and his having contracted the ‘Covid’ virus this week, and his subsequent “miraculous/cure” recovery…. which seemed to remind me of this poem I wrote back in October 2017


Not Here nor There

My time is slowly passing.

Age is creeping, not lasting.

I’m frail and growing older.

My body shivers when it’s colder.

And sweats like hell, in the heat.

My mind is feeble and weak.

I don’t seem to remember.

Whether it’s March, April, or September.

Here I sit, what am I doing.

There I look, where am I going.

There I ask, what’s for tea dear.

Oh, I forgot, she’s not here.

Well best I retire to bed.

Wrest this weary head.

Under a linen sheet, like a white hood.

And lie here, on this piece of driftwood.

Ivor Steven (c) October 2017

This week’s Wednesday Challenge on Weekly Prompts is; STEAMED LENSES. Please go over and check out their fabulous site by clicking on this link >> https://weeklyprompts.com/2020/10/07/wednesday-challenge-steamed-lenses/ . The below poem is my response to the prompt…


Is There Love Behind Steamed-up Glasses Of Dread

Life is indeed a tangle web

Behind steamed-up glasses of dread

But finding an end to the masks loose threads

Eventually unbinds previous words misread



We are bruised and torn

We are the drowned unicorns

Hatred is trampling our weary souls

Love and healing should be our goals



Love is every season, and the ones in between

Love is every moonbeam, and the ones in between

Love is every sunrise, and the ones in between

Love is an afternoon sea-breeze, and the cool evenings in between

I know these visions to be a true call

Because I’ve looked into the wizard’s crystal-ball