Another pink twilight this evening reminded me of a tanka I drafted some months ago. As the colours gathered across the western sky, it seemed the perfect time to finally share it.
And here are last evening’s twilight photos
Nature’s Pink Matinee (a Tanka)
A pink twilight sky
We, the fortunate witnesses
Stand here wondering
Why nature’s matinee shows
Are never on earth sold out
Tonight’s audience may have been small, but nature’s performance was unforgettable. 🎵🌸
Ivor Steven © October 2026
This morning’s wattlebird carried a question across the sky — a fleeting shimmer of light and wonder. Inspired by that moment, I found myself chasing the same golden touch through words and image, letting the Dream’s warmth echo the poem’s quiet hope.
Will I Be the One? (a Tanka)
There’s a wattlebird
Flying past the golden sun
And then I wondered
Who will be the chosen one
to receive the Midas touch?
And as the wattlebird slips past the golden sun, this song carries the same gentle light forward.
Ivor Steven © September 2026
Fifty years arrives like a soft, golden hush — a moment where memory steps forward, hand in hand with the present. As tomorrow’s anniversary draws near, I found myself looking toward the sky, letting its warm light guide me back through the years. This Tanka is the quiet breath before the day itself, a small reflection of the love still shimmering in every sunset.
Tomorrow’s Our 50th Anniversary (a Tanka)
Sunset’s pure-gold sky
And I’m inwardly smiling.
She’s flamboyantly
channeling me — a bright clue:
tomorrow’s our golden day.
And tomorrow, as the golden sky leans close, her light will rise through me once more.
Ivor Steven © September 2026
Spring arrived today with a quiet kind of joy — a bird lifting into the morning light, gulls gliding above the bay, and a flowering tree catching the sun just right. On my walk to the café, these small moments gathered around me, each one adding its own note to the season’s first song. By the time I sat down with my coffee, a Tanka had already begun to bloom — shaped by the warm promise of the new season.
Spring is Singing (a Tanka)
Daylight’s kissing earth,
Its warm glow hugs everything,
And the midday sun
Thaws my once‑wavering wings —
Now nature’s choir is singing
As spring begins to rise, a tender melody of warmth and light to accompany the season’s first song.
Ivor Steven © September 2026
A heavy sky greeted us before breakfast, the clouds shifting and uncertain as we walked beneath the trees. Yet even in that muted light, something brighter seemed to stir behind the grey — a quiet reminder that beyond the darkness, a softer universe is always waiting to break through.
Universe of Light (a Tanka)
Above nature’s trees
Behind life’s wavering clouds
Beyond the darkness
There’s a universe of light
Waiting to caress your soul
Where the glow waits behind every wavering cloud.
Even here, the universe of light begins to open.
Ivor Steven © August 2026
This Tanka began with a small moment of irony. While sheltering from the cold and waiting for the weather to clear, I spotted a piece of street art near the café — the words “Sunsets in Zadar” painted across a brick wall. I noticed straight away that it carried a perfect five‑syllable rhythm, an ideal opening line for a Haiku or Tanka. From that simple spark, the poem grew into a quiet reflection spoken from the sun itself, reaching across horizons with its global glow.
Zadar Sunsets (a Tanka)
Sunsets in Zadar
I’m nowhere near Croatia
But here within view
Above your hill’s horizon
My global glow finds your land
A final touch of light to end the moment — a sunset song to accompany the sun’s own words, drifting across horizons just as the poem does.
Ivor Steven © August 2026
This afternoon’s sky gifted me a flock of silhouettes — pigeons rising and circling through the light as if carrying the world’s weight on their wings. Their quiet resilience inspired the Tanka below, a small reflection on the lives caught beneath the shadows of conflict.
Pigeons of the World (a Tanka)
Here under the sun
I am not the only one
Being overrun
By the world’s greedy hired guns
Who’s minding our war torn sons?
And still the sky remembers what we forget — even the pigeons know the rise and fall of empires.
Ivor Steven © August 2026
Please note: All the images are mine and then sharpened and enhanced by Copilot.
Under the full moon’s watch, the Corellas turn the late afternoon sky into a jubilant parade.
The Full Moon and the Corellas (a Tanka)
I hear them squawking
As they fly through my blue sky
Those white Corellas
May look very elegant
But they sound like elephants
As a small tribute to Glen Hansard, whose music has long travelled beside me — a voice that rose and broke like birds in the late‑afternoon sky — here is his unforgettable performance of Bird of Sorrow.
Ivor Steven © August 2026
Above the treeline, the day began with wings drifting toward the light.
Brighter Than White (a Tanka)
Quickly, follow me
Through the silhouetted clouds
I hear the wise crow
Has found a hole in the sky
Where the light’s brighter than white
The sky keeps its openings, and somewhere beyond the clouds, the light still waits, brighter than white.
Ivor Steven © July 2026
Last night’s twilight carried a strange chromatic weight — colours deepening, clouds gathering, the horizon holding its breath. And on this cold winter evening, that same wintry mood returned and shaped the Tanka below
Twilight’s Chromatic Storm
(a Tanka)
Dark Ominous clouds
Growl along the horizon
Then suddenly howl
Over trees and open fields
Dumping sharp, icy black pearls
And in the fading light, as twilight settles, the storm’s voice drifts into song.
Ivor Steven © July 2026
