Category: Poems

Shangri La, Volume 17, River of Dreams

FREE PDF COPY >>> Links Below

Hello, dear readers and followers. As you may know, I stopped producing my “Tullawalla Booklets” at #31 because that was the house number of our family’s Tullawalla Homestead.
However, the booklet format is a superb way for me to catalogue the vast number of poems I produce, and as the saying goes, “I Am Turning Another Page”. Here I have begun a new series of poem booklets, called “Shangri La”, the name of my little Villa, and it is my piece of “earthly paradise, a retreat from the pressures of modern civilization”.
I now have “2192” Poems filed in these booklet formats!!
(On my bookshelf, I have “The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson, which contains 1775 poems … when I first started writing poems, I never envisaged that I would produce so many poems)

Click >> HERE, for the link to your FREE: PDF Copy of “Shangri La, Volume 17, River of Dreams.”

OR … Shangri La, Vol 17. River of Dreams.pdf



River of Dreams

I’ve been listening to the crows-
the smart ones, who should know.

Now I’m watching the ancient river flow
around the land’s long, sandy bend.

Do they know where, and when
the current’s undertow
comes to a becalmed end?







Ivor Steven (c) December 2025

Eagle (a Telestitch)

“The soul has illusions as the bird has wings.” — Victor Hugo

“One Day,” when I photographed a wedge-tailed eagle gliding across a clear Victorian sky. Its silhouette stirred something ancient — a whisper of myth, a search for meaning.
This ‘Telestitch’ poem was written in response to Coffee House Writers’ monthly poetry assignment, and for the Weekly Prompts “One Day” Monthly Challenge. To visit their fabulous site, click >> Here






Eagle (a Telestitch)


The wistful wedge-tailed eagle,
Soars toward the mystical Southern Aurora,
Searching for the anomaly’s hidden beginning,
Hoping to find the missing Holy Grail.
All the horizon’s dreams dissolve into the sky’s finale.








Ivor Steven (c) November 2025

Anomaly Street, Geelong Writers Anthology/Chapbook 2025


On Wednesday evening, I attended the launch of ‘Anomaly Street’, the 2025 Geelong Writers Anthology/Chapbook. Two of my poems appear in the collection, and I was honoured to recite A Malay Kris and A Cracked Brick Wall.
The gathering was warm and welcoming, each reading revealing the diversity of voices within Geelong Writers. For me, the highlight was hearing my words resonate aloud among so many fine works. Holding my copy of Anomaly Street, I felt part of a living street of voices, distinct yet harmonising in community.

The poem is composed of comments/anecdotes I posted on some of my fellow WordPress writers’ articles from that time. In stanza order, they are.

1 – Nancy, Order Of The Snake – The Elephant’s Trunk
2 – Beth, expression. | I didn’t have my glasses on….
3 – Bart, Monday Poetry Prompt: Under the Cushions | Living Poetry
4 – Violet, Untouched by Regret | Thru Violet’s Lentz
5 – Ivor, A response to Nancy’s comment, https://ivorplumberpoet.press/2025/08/14/surprise-surprise-a-tanka/
6 – David, Breaking hours, or: Yet it flows – The Skeptic’s Kaddish 

My second poem in the Anthology





Ivor Steven (c) November 2025

Throwback Friday, Misplaced in Space


Today’s Throwback Friday poem (originally written in July 2023) is drawn from my upcoming book, Time Hears No Sound. It opens Chapter 4, The Universe: Infinity Times Infinity


Misplaced in Space


there is inner space
and there is outer space
I like to travel in both places
life is not race
my database
is my bookcase 

I am yet to embrace
the coalface
face to face
and this human race
has misplaced
the meaning of grace
and lost the paper chase
to the corporate greed of cyberspace

tonight, I’m flying down to inner-space
aboard my “Itmims” spacecraft
to find a redeemable place
inside humanities headspace

 

Itmims: Ivor’s Time Machine In Micro Space




.


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

An Aerial Pantomime


Clouds became a stage today—birds in flight performing their aerial pantomime


An Aerial Pantomime

The big black crows,
come and go as they please,
lancing through the low clouds,
like stingrays in a sandy sea.

Pretty wattlebirds are swift,
flashy, and never shy,
flaunting their showy plumes
among the naked grey clouds.

And the day’s aerial pantomime
Would not be complete
without a black-and-white minstrel show
from the troop’s majestic magpie.




“The skies sang today; this video is their chorus.”




Ivor Steven (c) November 2025

The Meadow and the Red Rose




The Meadow and the Red Rose


There’s a golden hush where field mustard sways,
spring’s quiet rebellion against the grey.

White butterflies flutter over the yellow meadow,
spreading pollen and love like a dissipating rainbow.

Morning glory unfurls a mauve lawn —
brief as breath, bold as dawn.

In time, the shepherd’s clock closes gently,
whenever the weather bells chime hourly.

Meanwhile, my front garden’s red rose sentinel
Stoically stands guard over my daily spectacle.








Ivor Steven (c) November 2025

“E” Day Tomorrow, and, Polishing Takes Time

“E” Day Tomorrow

Yes, it’s all about my new book, Time Hears No Sound. And my wonderful editor, Judy (from Jaymah Press), will be here at my home tomorrow for a meeting to review the proofreading I did of her draft copy of my manuscript. Another part of the correction process in preparing a polished manuscript before we decide to hand it over to the printers.


The image on the right is my Epilogue poem, which I added to the manuscript yesterday




Polishing Takes Time

Tomorrow the pages will breathe again,
their margins whispering corrections,
their commas waiting for release.

Around the table,
time will sit with us,
silent but attentive,
as Judy’s careful eyes
polish the echoes
into a voice that endures.

And when the pages rest,
their voices hushed in ink,
we will listen together
to the silence between words—
where time hears no sound,
yet carries every echo forward.







Ivor Steven (c) November 2025

Incompatible

Featured Image Above: Springtime in retreat—wings scatter beneath a dismal sky, and midday wears an unnatural hush. Today’s weather speaks in riddles and ice, echoing the questions we dare to ask: Is our dome becoming incompatible?






Incompatible


Among the bushes, we anxiously fly,
Sheltering from the world’s sinister sky.

The dismal clouds are in a miserable mood,
And full of destructive ice-cubes.

An unnatural darkness has befallen midday —
Who has stolen our springtime clearway?

Is climate change responsible?
Is our doomed dome liable
to become globally incompatible?




Let this song carry the weight of today’s sky—an echo of wings, words, and warnings we cannot ignore.




Ivor Steven (c) November 2025

A Tiny Bird in a Deep Blue Sky

Featured Image Above: Mid-flight and mildly wrecked—this tiny bird attempts its final rescue, beneath a deep blue sky.”


From dizzy heights to grounded mornings—last night’s revelry left me chasing feathers in the wind. Here’s a tiny bird (Welcome Swallow), a deep blue sky, and a poem that remembers too much red wine.

Over at Weekly Prompts,  the Weekend Challenge is the word ‘Excessive’. You can visit their fabulous site by clicking >> Here.
In my poem, I wrote about having an “Excessive” amount of ‘red wine’ at the Event last night …





A Tiny Bird in a Deep Blue Sky

Too many late nights,
Too much red wine.
I consumed too many savoury bites —
Throw me a rescue line
That’s not made of grapevines.

My eyes look like Christmas lights;
I’m getting too old for these dizzy heights.
Oh well, I’ve plenty of time to recover —
Until next week’s Writers party hangover.







Ivor Steven (c) November 2025

Petrified Air


Even in poisoned skies, the crows persist. A silhouette of survival — sharp, black, and unyielding.


Petrified Air


Is that coal dust
in my eye?
Or have the dark clouds
begun to cry —
About our polluted sky?

How shall crows fly
inside our petrified air supply?


Ivor Steven (c) November 2025