Feature Image Above: Created by Copilot and me.
“Ravens fly through the iron‑gate sky, carrying warnings only the attentive will hear.”
The Ravens Warning (a Tanka)
Stealthily they fly,
below the iron‑gate sky—
loud and steely‑eyed.
Ravens warn all passersby:
beware of that sly bad guy.
Under an iron‑gate sky, her voice rises like a warning carried on dark wings
Ivor Steven © February 2026
Featured Image Above: Created by Copilot and me
Shaped during my quiet breaks at Market Day, inspired by yesterday’s twilight and today’s steady rhythm behind the stall.
Leftover Heirlooms
I’m roaming around
the inner zone of Shadowland,
the heart of twilight’s middle ground.
Inquiringly peering down
upon the sun’s retiring nightgown.
Above her hessian costume,
the fading crescent moon
is also descending into the world’s bedroom.
Again, I am an abandoned groom
from life’s fragmented honeymoon,
here clutching nostalgia’s leftover heirlooms.
After drafting this poem during my quiet breaks at Market Day, Lisa Hannigan’s ‘Oh Undone’ felt like the perfect soundtrack to its twilight reflections.
Ivor Steven © February 2026
While the café murmured below, the Corellas held their own rowdy morning meeting in the trees above me.
We’re a Noisy Bunch (a Tanka)
I’m one of many
In a flock of two twenty
I’m a Corella
And when we’re all together
We’re a loud bunch of critters
“A chorus of Corellas above the morning hum.”
Ivor Steven © February 2026
Today’s Throwback Friday poem (originally written in January 2024) is drawn from my upcoming book, Time Hears No Sound. It appears as the second poem in the Musette section of Chapter 10, Time’s Short Poems: Haiku, Tanka, etc.
I find the Musette’s restrictive poetry format to be very challenging
A Musette is,
three verses
first line – 2 syllables
second line – 4 syllables
third line – 2 syllables
rhyme scheme – a/b/a c/d/c e/f/e
The title reflects the poem’s content
The Mystique (a Musette)
Friday
I said to you
“Please stay”
You said
“Only one night
Twin beds”
Next week
We savoured the
Mystique
.
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 © February 2026
At twilight this evening, a lone peewee settled on the fence line, unexpected company above a paddock split open by summer. The moment felt like a small report from the dry season — so I let the bird speak for itself.
Peewee on the Fence Wire
Here on a weathered fence wire,
in my honorary black-and-white attire,
I am a peewee of a scarecrow
monitoring this broad and dry meadow.
The long, hot summer has created havoc
and left the parched paddock
covered in a maze of deep, dark cracks,
inscribed by the droughts, dusty, black chalk;
and the dirty chasms are as wide as my back.
Their song carries softly across the dry ground — a fitting echo for this moment.
Ivor Steven © February 2026
Hello, dear readers and followers. I contribute to Coffee House Writers magazine (USA) every second week, and I’m delighted to share that my latest poem, “Beyond My Outpost,” appears in the new issue. You can read it by following the link below.
>> https://coffeehousewriters.com/beyond-my-outpost/
.
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 © February 2026
Featured Image Above: A quiet stretch of the Moorabool, holding its breath in the summer heat.”
Nancy >> RDP Thursday: river – The Elephant’s Trunk
Nancy’s haiku about winter’s thin ice stirred something in me this morning. Her quiet image of a fragile river set my thoughts drifting back home, where our waterways are thinning for a very different reason. Her words nudged me toward the dry, sunburnt world I’ve been watching all summer, and this poem arrived as my response
Wading in Dry Ice
Hardly a drop of rain
Has fallen on our sunburnt plains
Rivers are slimy drains
No fields of grain
Nor wading cranes
Only dusty stains
On the windowpanes
And again
Dry ice runs through my veins
While the windmill vanes
Rotate in vain
“I’ve always felt this song holds the heartbeat of a parched Australian summer. It seemed the right companion for these words.”
Ivor Steven © February 2026
A fallen flowering bush caught my eye on the way back from our morning walk — knocked flat by last night’s storm, yet still holding colour. The sight struck a familiar chord, and the words came quickly, shaped by that quiet recognition of what it means to be brought down and still not done.
Yet to be Found
I’m lying on the ground.
The overnight storm knocked me down.
I’m feeling flat and unsound;
my flowers are turning brown.
When will I be found?
Do they know, I need to be reset?
I’m still bound to this mound –
and I’m not dead yet!
Ivor Steven © February 2026
Where the cloud‑horizon meets the fading sun, twilight balances its colours on the edge of evening
Above and Beyond the Horizon
Here, beneath the twilight zone’s archway,
I see a phenomenal golden causeway.
There, above the horizon’s sentinal treeline
and below the cloudbank’s grigio plateau –
like another parallel pseudo-horizon –
mysteriously, the yellow band of light
momentarily emerges,
despite the fading sun folding into night.
Ivor Steven © February 2026
Featured Image Above: Was created by Copilot and me.
A Blackbird’s Night
Not everything said
understands the light
within our heads.
On a Wolf Moon night,
what I write,
in black and white,
is not always right –
slumber darkens my sight.
I am no white knight,
nor a feathery kite.
And despite
my comfy campsite,
the world’s warring blight
incites me to always fight
for what is right
in black and white.
Footnote: I’m pleased to report that last week’s plumbing job was completed today. Even though I was tired and it was nearly dark, we still managed to go for our walkie …
Ivor Steven © January 2026
Ivor.Plumber/Poet 