My Box Office Xmas

“Box Office Café, post-poetry glow—with Frankie keeping tabs on the editing.”



My Box Office Xmas

The Dome Poets, with Frankie in tow,
Gathered for our Christmas breakup show
At the ever‑welcoming Box Office Café,
Where festive chatter lit the day.

And true to tradition, pens took flight—
Each of us weaving a Yuletide delight.
So here, dear reader, we share with you,
Our Christmas verses, fresh and true.







Beneath the canopy of verse and memory, Christmas Table by Loner Deer offered its own quiet poem—one of longing, gratitude, and gentle farewells.





Ivor Steven (c) December 2025

Blotting Paper

Featured Image Above: created by Bing Co-pilot and me.


Blotting Paper


Sleep has not rejuvenated
my weary bones,
nor repaired the clogged gears
in my rusty brain.

Now, the regeneration process
is up to the nature of daylight –
to reignite the candle
in the inky alcove of my soul.

Where, the sodden blotting paper
has become my night-time traitor



A Mid-morning Affair


Listen while reading: Sigur Rós – Vaka (Untitled 1).



A Mid-morning Affair

Out beyond the doorway
Facing the great southern sky
I look up sideways to the east
And the mid-morning sun
Discovers my squinting eyes
Then I turn to the west
Where the mid-morning moon
Shyly locates my awakened stare

Here I stand, fair and square
Between the sun’s golden flare
And the moon’s untold affair

I wonder about the world’s current despair
Or should I declare
“Why is the world in such disrepair”







Ivor Steven (c) December 2025

Throwback Friday, Flying Among The Clouds

Today’s Throwback Friday poem (originally written in March 2025) is drawn from my upcoming book, Time Hears No Sound. It opens Chapter 6, Travel and Life: Time Flies (Travel)




Flying Among the Clouds



I’m flying high
Cruising among the clouds
Fly with me
And the rest of my flock
Up here
There’s no need for a clock

Time gives no commands
Cruising among the clouds
Silently overseeing the crowd

Time always flies
At the same standard pace
There, in that space
Between daytime’s silvery moon
And twilight’s glittery sun






.


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 ©  December 2025

Time Hears No Numbers


This poem grew from poetic anecdotes I first shared as comments on fellow bloggers’ posts. In stanza order, they are:
1. Sara >> Random Numbers | purplepeninportland
2. Dwight >> https://rothpoetry.wordpress.com/2025/11/25/aging-without-numbers
3. Ivor >> a personal reflection.



Time Hears No Numbers

There is a number attached to everything,
Tracking them down is overwhelming;
Tallying the total is mind-boggling.

I perceive, with a twinkle
in my blurry eye,
an extra wrinkle
on my milky thigh.
But I do not cry
at the number of crinkles
that falsely belie
the sounds of my
life’s happy jingles.

The number of memories shall not diminish
until time decrees, “you’re finished.”




Accompanied by Sleeping At Last’s “Saturn” performed live with the Symphony Orchestra, this poem listens for the echoes beyond numbers—where memory, music, and existence intertwine.



Ivor Steven (c) December 2025

I’m 0n the Brink, I think


Note: All images on my poetry site today are reproduced with the kind permission of Derrick Knight, whose post Sun-Burnished inspired the following piece.
https://derrickjknight.com/2025/12/06/sun-burnished/



I’m on the Brink, I Think


The trees’ reflections upon
winter’s rippling pond
do not waver, nor move along.

The upside-down precinct
Is Nature’s picturesque ink.

Afloat on the cold water,
the images do not sink,
and never appear to shrink.

Here I am, on the brink
of creation’s universal link,
Wondering why
there are so many kinks
in our ability to think.






Ivor Steven (c) December 2025


Finding My Twilight Zone

Sometimes, the moon finds us before we find ourselves.




Finding My Twilight Zone

Above the evensong’s
crimson horizon,
The silvery crescent moon
monastically glows alone,
Atop twilight’s purple zone.

Blessed and fortuitously gratified,
I surreptitiously return home,
Feeling miraculously satisfied.



A silvery crescent glows alone above twilight’s purple hush—accompanied by Nightwish’s “Sleeping Sun,” this moment finds its voice.




Ivor Steven (c) December 2025