The Orchid’s Story

I’ve been resting at home this week, easing through a spell of stroke fatigue while the rain keeps falling outside. This poem has come together slowly over three days — written in quiet moments when my energy allowed — sparked by the return of my orchids and the memories they carry.


Over at Weekly Prompts, the Colour Challenge for October is Orange. To visit their fabulous site, please click on >> Here



The Orchid’s Story


It’s been nearly a decade
since your smiling blooms
softly touched my memories.
You were my father’s beloved orchids,
a living keepsake I inherited
when I moved into my Shangri‑La —
he would be so proud to see you now.

While you’ve been quietly hibernating,
my river of life has ebbed and flowed.
beneath familiar bridges
and over jagged ridges

A fascinating tourist trip to China,
but sadly followed by two more strokes.
Phenomenally, I recovered in time
to board the plane to America
for a debut visit to see my Philadelphia cousins.

Luckily, you were still cosily asleep
during the worldwide COVID calamity.
After a couple of chaotic years,
the catastrophic disease dissipated.
However, not to be outgunned,
cataclysmically, wars of the world
repossessed the planet
like a prehistoric curse.

Fortuitously, during the spring of last year
I was able to visit my Canadian cousins
on Vancouver Island and Alberta —
showed me the scenic sights
and treated me like a poetic prince.

And now you stand, clandestine after all this time,
on your piece of pristine and palatial residence
colourfully and nonchalantly smiling at me today,
as if everything were back to normal,



While the rain softly taps at the windows, the orchids silently bloom again — a quiet reminder of resilience, as the flowers tell their story once more.



Ivor Steven ©  October 2026

Throwback Friday, Dragons and Faeries

Earlier today, my dragon returned to the page in Part 1 of My Dragon, The Tetralogy — a story of flight, memory, and the quiet ache of what might have been. For this week’s Throwback Friday poem, I’m revisiting a poem from May 2019 that carries the same creature into a different sky. It’s a dream‑journey through New York’s mythic corners, where dragons brush past torches, faeries linger in the trees, and hope rises from the ashes.
Below is the poem as I first wrote it — now gently punctuated, but still holding its original fire


Scenes from my 2019 wander through New York — the places where dragons, dreams, and Lennon’s whisper still linger.

This poem first appeared in my debut book Tullawalla, Chapter 3 — “Dragons, Wizards, Faeries, and a Spacecraft”, page 55.




Dragons and Faeries

My dragon flew me to New York,
His scaly tail was singed
by the stoic statue’s torch
as we were landing upon Central Park.

And in the city’s mystical forest I stood
among strawberry fields and woods.
Atop the plaque of my dreams,
I imagined how life should’ve been –
my naked soul, a vision unseen.

I have a dream, like John’s world:
Togetherness, love pristine,
the apple uneaten
and the snake shyly beaten.

I see peace, within evil’s tiredness,
burnt-out flames of the devil’s nakedness
leaving us life’s leftover ashes.
Then the peace dove shall arise from the ruins,
and the lost faeries will return as humans.






And as these memories rise through mist and music, the old dream leans in once more… imagine.


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Until Eyes Hear Sound

Amazon >> Amazon.com : 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 invoice
for the Book, plus Postage.



Ivor Steven ©  October 2026

Throwback Friday, Strings

With Saturday night’s Cohen Noir: Celebrating the Music, Words & Legacy of Leonard Cohen drawing near, I’ve been revisiting the quiet ache and devotion in his work. Today’s Throwback Friday poem, Strings, was first written in June 2017, shaped in part by Cohen’s song Show Me the Place. With this year marking a decade since his passing, it feels fitting to return to the piece. I’ve revised it a few times over the years — the original title was Violin Strings — but the heart of the poem has remained true. The featured image above is a scanned print from The Wordless Songbook, Leonard Cohen, by George A. Walker, a treasured book from my personal library.

Below are two recent fantail moments from our morning walkies — small, bright pauses that seemed to echo the gentle mood of today’s Throwback Friday.






Strings

I’m singing a song about you,
Singing words, both wistful and true.
From my heart to my soul, the veins —
They’re as tight as violin strings.
I needed you to take my hand,
Take my hand and show me the way.
Show me the way, to a formal debut,
Show me the way, into your dancing shoes.

I needed you to take my dreams,
Take my dreams and show me how to behave.
Show me the way, to your family home,
Show me how to drink from your holy grail.
I needed you to take my open heart,
Take my heart and show me how to pray.
Show me the way into your world,
Show me how to fly, in your Milky Way.

I needed you to write some heavenly notes,
Take my violin and show me how to play.
Show me the way to your harp’s wings,
Show me the way into your heartstrings.






As I revisit this piece in the lead‑up to Saturday night’s Cohen Noir: Celebrating the Music, Words & Legacy of Leonard Cohen, I’m reminded again of how deeply his work threads through my own. For anyone who wants to hear the quiet ache that first inspired Strings, here’s Leonard Cohen’s Show Me the Place — a song that still opens the same door.


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Until Eyes Hear Sound

Amazon >> Amazon.com : 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 invoice
for the Book, plus Postage.



Ivor Steven ©  September 2026

Throwback Friday, Whispering Flowers

It was “our” 50th Anniversary yesterday, the 10th of September. Whispering Flowers was written back in early 2019, during my recovery from two strokes — a time when every small journey felt tender and deliberate.
Today, the flowers have been delivered, and we’ve spent the afternoon in the sunshine, sharing an anniversary lunch at the café and a glass of red, letting the memories settle gently around us.

Whispering Flowers (Tullawalla, page 41)


Carole and I, 45 years ago, before her MS developed.


At the cemetery with flowers for Carole, and then to the Cafe for lunch and a toast to Carole.



Whispering Flowers (Revised)

I went shopping this morning,
To buy her flowers
For our anniversary day.

A bus trip to the local florist,
then I boarded another bus to the cemetery —
my first time on a bus carrying flowers.

Bouquet in hand, on I hopped,
You could’ve heard a pin drop.

Over the silence, I heard solemn whispers.
The men on the bus courteously nodded,
And the ladies knowingly smiled.

Gratified, I dipped my cap in acknowledgement.
Then I started to sense the day’s emotions arise,
and with my honesty glowing,
I felt proudly special.




And as Scarborough Fair drifts through the afternoon light, I carry her memory faithfully, where flowers and remembrance quietly meet.



Ivor Steven ©  September 11th 2026

I See You Now, Fifty Years, Today

Fifty years feels both distant and close, a milestone carried quietly through my days.
Some memories soften, some sharpen, but one truth remains — I still see her in the small moments, in the quiet spaces, in the light that lingers.
Today, I honour that presence the only way I know how: with a few simple lines.





I See You Now, Fifty Years, Today


A day I celebrate every day —
every day, walking my narrow path,
I see you now.
Every day, looking into our misty mirror,
I see you now.

Fifty years, today —
every night, in my dreams,
I see you now.
Every night, in the stars.
I see you now.

I am here,
you are where you are.
One day, my dear,
I’ll join you in the stars.





A song that echoes the way I still see her — in dreams, in stars, in the quiet of today.



Ivor Steven ©  September 10th 2026

Tomorrow’s Our 50th Anniversary (a Tanka)

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

Throwback Friday, Soundless

In keeping with this week’s theme on clouds, light, and the quiet mysteries of the universe, I’m revisiting a reflective poem from August 2018. I’ve made a few small word changes — gentle adjustments that preserve the essence of the original piece.


Soundless (Revised)


My celestial dusk is earthward bound.
Evening clouds are not making a sound.
I cannot hear her moon shadows hit the ground,
and our silent night is being slowly drowned.
Then my midnight queen arises, to be crowned —
the Goddess of Light … and I am spellbound.




A soft companion piece, echoing the poem’s silence, carried on a gentle breath of light.



.


Until Eyes Hear Sound

Amazon >> Amazon.com : 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 ©  August 2026

Memory Lane

A quiet moment in the grass this morning — just me, my camera, and a lone mushroom in the light to guide me down memory lane — a soft umbrella for tired legs and fading recollections. This poem is the path I followed beneath its shelter.


I don’t often do this, but before the poem, I’ve added a song that’s always offered me a quiet kind of shelter. Dylan’s Shelter from the Storm feels like the right companion for this morning’s walk and the memories that followed.





Memory Lane

I’m slowly drifting back
along a familiar winding track.

My old legs feel like used lard —
I can’t travel another yard;
the climb has been long and hard.

Please, can you give me shelter
here, under your mushroom’s umbrella?

Let my weariness rest for a few moments
while my memory lane’s missing residents
struggle to recall who’s the President.





And as the day drifts on, this song carries my missing dreams down along memory lane.




Ivor Steven ©  July 2026

Throwback Friday, Eating Chocolates and Watching Wars

Chocolates are delightfully delicious … wars are deadly and destructive …
Above the valley, a white-feathered messenger rises — reminding us how fragile peace can be

Yesterday we visited the Moorabool Valley Chocolate Café for coffee and cake, and the moment brought this poem back to me — a piece I wrote in August 2018, when a simple liquor chocolate stirred memories, questions, and the ache of a world still at war.






Eating Chocolates And Watching Wars (Revised)

Hungrily, I’m eating a liquor chocolate —
a selfish heavenly delight,
arousing my old mind’s senses.

I wonder
what she would be thinking,
looking down from the stars
through her sensitive olive eyes —
her everlasting smile,
her gracious courage,
her generous heart,
her forgiving soul,
her love for me and you.

I wonder
what she would be thinking,
seeing these futile, bloody wars
through her compassionate olive eyes —
the dead and maimed,
the millions of shuffling homeless,
the distraught, broken families,
the crying children locked in sheds,
the desperate refugees with no beds.

I wonder
what she would be thinking
while she preciously
holds the last white dove,
observing these senseless wars
that never ever ends.





And for the song that holds the cracks and the light, here is Leonard Cohen’s Anthem — offered to a world where the last white dove may never fly free again.




.


Until Eyes Hear Sound

Amazon >> Amazon.com : 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 ©  June 2026

Life’s Missing Teacher

These four couplets unfold like stepping stones — small pauses across the quiet waters of loss. Each one holds a moment of recognition, a shift in understanding, a breath before the next step. Paired with Leonard Cohen’s “Teachers,” the poem traces the lessons we never received, and the ones we learn only by walking toward them





Life’s Missing Teacher

I never found a teacher,
who taught me how to grieve.

The unforeseen creature
was difficult to perceive.

After unplugging her extension cord,
time was always near.

While wandering toward
the edge of life’s weathered pier.



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Ivor Steven ©  May 3rd 2026