Throwback Friday, Where Have the Fairies Gone?

Today’s Throwback Friday poem (originally written in August 2023) is drawn from my upcoming book, Time Hears No Sound. It appears as the first poem in the Fairyland section of Chapter 9, Humour, Fantasy, and Fairyland: Timeless


Where Have The Fairies Gone?


Deep in the enchanted woods
Under mossy rocks and water-reeds
I saw an iron-bar prison door
Lying over a cave in the dry creek bed

I wondered and yelled out
“Hello! Is anyone down there?”
Eerily, a gentle voice whispered
“Do not worry, we are sheltering here.”
“Why are you hiding?” I inquired
“We are waiting for humanity
to stop the carnage on our planet.”

Then, peeping up from lower in the chasm
I witnessed that the small luminous eyes
Of Earth’s guardian faeries
Were joyless and crying



Music/Video: by Sigur Ros, “Ylur”, translated means, Warmth




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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 ©  January 2026

“Lost and Found” Published at MasticadoresUSA

Featured Image Above: Photo by Moritz Bu00f6ing on Pexels.com

🌧️ “Lost and Found” Published at MasticadoresUSA 🌧️

I’m honoured to share that my poem “Lost and Found” has been published today at MasticadoresUSA, under the thoughtful editorial guidance of Barbara Leonhard. This piece emerged from a quiet, reflective place, where shadows gather, and the spirit seeks meaning. I’m grateful to Barbara and the Masticadores team for offering the poem a home among so many inspiring voices.

You can read “Lost and Found” >>Here, and feel the hush between the thunder.

To complement the poem’s serene mood, I’ve included Lisa O’Neill’s tender performance of “The Bleak Midwinter,” a piece that subtly echoes the poem’s reflective spirit.

Thank you, Barbara, for selecting “Lost and Found” for publication. I truly appreciate your support and the care you bring to MasticadoresUSA.

I appreciate you walking with me through this piece—may its soft shadows and light find a place to rest with you.







Ivor Steven ©  January 2026

A Pantomime, or, A Playwright

Feature Image Above: Created by Copilot and me.

This poem grew from four comment‑poems I left on two fellow poets’ pages — David’s words sparking the first and third stanzas, Nancy’s the second and fourth. When I brought those fragments together, they unfolded into a small theatrical wandering: a pantomime of thresholds, ascents, and the strange choreography of time.
In Stanza Order:
1. David; The line moves, or: By inertia – The Skeptic’s Kaddish 
2. Nancy; Thresholds – The Elephant’s Trunk
3. David; My years slowly, or: I walk – The Skeptic’s Kaddish 
4. Nancy; Ascension – The Elephant’s Trunk


A Pantomime, or, A Playwright

Sublime is time;
heeds no rhyme,
beyond our imaginary climb.
Somewhere we await a final line –
or is life just a pantomime?

Oh, I see doorways,
stairways,
and causeways
These days
I’m living in a hazy daze –
or am I wandering in a maze
of poetic cliches
and unfinished essays?

Do we climb the incline
to our ordained shrine?
Or is the causeway a surreal design,
a decline into a magnetic mine?

Under a dome of flawless white,
being elevated toward the uncorrupted light –
the beginning of a poet’s last moonlit playwright





From Lisa O’Neill’s Black Sheep — “Do you want a story before you sleep?” A fitting echo for this small pantomime of doorways and moonlit climbs.


If you wish to read Lisa O’Neill’s outstanding “Black Sheep” lyrics, click on this Link >> https://genius.com/Lisa-oneill-black-sheep-lyrics



Ivor Steven ©  January 2026

“Time, My Muse”, is in this week’s Coffee House Writers Magazine edition.

Featured Image Above: Ronan Furuta at https://unsplash.com/



Hello, dear readers and followers. I write for Coffee House Writers magazine (USA) fortnightly, and my poem “Time, My Muse” is in this week’s edition.
To read the poem, please click the link below to visit my Coffee House Writers Magazine article.
>> https://coffeehousewriters.com/time-and-my-muse/






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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 ©  January 2026

Don’t Open the Venetian Blinds

Featured ImageAbove: Created by Copilot and me.


Winds outside and storms within. Nature shifting, people shifting, and a song that carries the ache of distance. A small piece for looking outward, and inward, at the same time.



Don’t Open the Venetian Blinds



Turbulent seas,
And broken trees
Nature’s wild winds –
Do spellbind mankind’s
Undefined minds.

Buckled knees,
And breaks in the bay’s
Protective quays
Nature’s stone-blind to mankind’s
Redesigned minds.








Ivor Steven ©  January 2026


My Journal’s Wings

Over at Weekly Prompts, the Weekend Challenge is the word ‘Journal.’ To visit their fabulous site, please click >> Here


“This morning’s muse — wings caught mid-thought.”



My Journal’s Wings

High above my poetic eye I fly,
where the early birds gracefully glide by
across the bright morning sky.

And in my journal, I pause to ask why
birds become the muses of my word supply—
as if their wings remind me
that thought itself is a kind of flight,
and every line I write
is another way of learning
how to rise.





Ivor Steven ©  January 2026

No More Alibis


A whispered protest beneath a heavy sky—this poem emerged over coffee and quiet defiance.


No More Alibis



I shyly worry, and quietly sigh
about today’s ugly, dark sky.
In the blink of an eye,
the sun might say, “Hi”
and the world awry,
could be rectified.

No more alibis,
or black eyes.

It’s time to notify
the blow-dried wise guy:
The world is not his money supply

We will not be tongue-tied,
nor listen to his falsified
“War cry.”







Ivor Steven ©  January 2026