Tag: Music

The Icings on the Cake, or a Sweet Full Moon

When the full moon rises, Frankie and I can’t help but chase its glow. What begins as a playful lift‑off soon becomes a delicious journey through clouds that taste like desserts and skies that shimmer with childhood magic.


“Itmims”
Ivor’s Time Machine In Micro Space





The Icings on the Cake, or a Sweet Full Moon



I’ve time enough to finish my mushy mango.
The full moon is about to put on a show.
Both Frankie and my spacecraft, Itmims,
are howling and revving to go.

I pour the leftover banana juice
into the awaiting craft’s fuel compartment,
then untether the impatient machine,
and Frankie and I quickly jump aboard.
Up, up and away we go,
high above the mist and creamy snow.

We fly toward the cherry pie clouds
and twilight’s strawberry jelly sky,
where, to our consummate delight,
we spy the full moon’s white Knight
glowing brighter than grandma’s
world-famous passionfruit pavlova






Ivor Steven ©  August 2026

Everlasting (a Tanka)

Some days arrive quietly and leave a lasting tremor in the heart. Today was one of them. This finale 75th birthday wasn’t just a celebration of another year — it became a gathering of the people who have walked beside me through the most profound chapters of my life.

This group of friends is woven into every part of Carole’s story. They were there when she and I first met, full of hope and laughter. They were there when MS entered our lives forty‑four years ago, offering care, strength, and the kind of support that can only come from people who love without hesitation. Through three decades of Carole’s battle, they stood with us — not as visitors, but as family.

And even after Carole passed fourteen years ago, the thread didn’t break. Every three or four months, we gather to honour her astonishing life — her compassion, her grace, and that infectious smile that could soften any room. Today, on my birthday, that ritual became something deeper. It felt like a circle closing gently around memory, friendship, and the enduring presence of a woman who shaped us all.


The Crew, and my birthday Barbeque Apron present; a handcrafted gift by Dot … “Macbeth shall never vanquished be until Great Birnam wood to high Dunsinane hill Shall come against him.”



Everlasting (a Tanka)


This circle of friends,
like a silver wedding ring,
bright and long-lasting,
lovingly loyal and strong —
yet time does not weary them.




A tune for the long road we’ve walked together — still singing, still smiling. A journey that continues to be brightened by loyal friends.




Ivor Steven ©  July 2026

Dark Grains of Sand

Twilight has a way of softening the edges of the day. In that fading light, time feels loose in the hands, slipping grain by grain. Dark Grains of Sand follows that quiet fall into evening.





Dark Grains of Sand


As the sun sinks
beyond the land,
the horizon’s sky swirls
like tanned quicksand.

As the night begins to melt
into tawny strands,
twilight unfurls across
the wandering bard’s grandstand.

As the grains of time
drift through his hands
the encroaching darkness
remains unmanned and unplanned.





Bob Dylan’s “Every Grain of Sand” drifts through the same twilight hush — a perfect echo for this piece.





Ivor Steven ©  July 2026

The Moon’s Daytime Matinee

There are moments in the afternoon when the sky invites us to sense more than we see — when a pale moon lingers above our familiar fixtures and asks us to listen with our eyes.
Perhaps, One Day, we’ll pause long enough to notice our daytime luminary’s quiet offerings.


Over at Weekly Prompts, it’s time for the “One Day Prompt.” To visit their fabulous site, please click on >> Here




The Moon’s Daytime Matinee


Mid-afternoon,
and the half moon
is lingering
in the middle of the sky,
glowing like a luminary’s lantern.

There for everyone
to listen with their tired eyes
and peruse the moon’s
visionary daytime matinee.

Perhaps,
at the same moment,
the audience will absorb
the extra light waves
from the ancient orb’s
timeless wisdom.






And as the afternoon drifts on, the moon leaves its quiet note behind, a reminder that even in daylight, wonder still finds a way to shine.




Ivor Steven ©  July 2026

Unwinding (a Senryu)

In the soft drift between yesterday’s echo and tomorrow’s hush, I found myself pausing — watching a magpie unwind in the morning light, and hearing a song carry the same quiet truth. Some moments ask nothing of us but to breathe, to notice, to be held gently in the turning of time





Unwinding (a Senryu)


Living for today
Remembering yesterday
Minding tomorrow





And in this song’s wind‑worn footsteps, my little senryu finds its own way forward.





Ivor Steven ©  July 2026

Throwback Friday, Raining Oceans of Tears (Revised)

Today’s Throwback Friday arrives wrapped in rain. Frankie and I stepped out into a cold, wet Geelong evening, and the sky was heavy, brooding, ready to break. It seemed the right moment to revisit a poem from June 2021 — a piece written during another season of quiet storms and overflowing emotion.


Raining Oceans of Tears (Revised)

They can send a machine to Mars,
but cannot repair a blade of grass
in nature’s backyard.

And billions of tears spill into the oceans,
creating a soft-surging swell of love
gradually rolling in from a blue horizon.
Is this the beginning
of the next great flood from above?

The words that are left unsaid
cannot be misread




Without being misread — sometimes the only answer is to let the rain keep falling.


.


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 ©  July 2026

The Sky Catcher

A quiet morning sky, brushed with soft colour and held in the silhouettes of reaching trees. A few drifting lines followed me home from my walk, settling into a poem shaped by that calm, glassy light.





The Sky Catcher


The blue-stone sky
is not about to cry,
nor do I hear the wind sigh.

Nature’s clouds tell no lie.
High,
above the planet’s bonsai,
I see the sun’s glassy eye
solemnly decry
time neither says hi
nor goodbye.





A morning sky caught in stillness, and a song that drifts softly in its wake.




Ivor Steven ©  July 2026

Resting (Revised, with lines from Robert Okaji’s book, “From Every Moment A Second”)

Resting was originally written in July 2024, and the photos that follow are little scenes from my world — the moments that helped me understand what resting truly means.


For this month’s Dome Poets assignment, we were each handed a Robert Okaji chapbook to spark a new poem. Mine was From Every Moment A Second, a book of luminous fragments that has long kept me company on the shelf.
To visit Robert’s wonderful poetry site, click on this link
>> O at the Edges | Musings on poetry, language, perception, numbers, food, and anything else that slips through the cracks.



Resting (Revised, with lines from Robert Okaji’s book, “From Every Moment A Second”)

Stanza Map
1 — Robert’s Take Away, p.3
2 — Ivor’s Resting
3 — Robert’s Bottom Falling, p.5
4 — Ivor’s Resting (with Okaji’s line)
5 — Robert’s Privilege, p.13
6 — Ivor’s Resting
7 — Robert’s Flame, p.15

Take away the blackness,
what does night become?

Why rest?
Dawn is here again,
another new day
for my persistent pen.

Through the window
I see another bird
rising, unlabelled, unwanted, yet noticed.

Why Rest?
From every moment,
a second emerges.**
Time has no opponent.

Every hour becomes another.
Surrendering minutes, accepting
gain, which gravities restrain us?
But we open the door
and step out, unhindered.

Why rest?
The Age of Aquarius
has been and gone
and the end of beyond
is no longer precarious.

Drifting, she passes through the frame.
Reshapes borders, edges.
Picture a man lighting a candle
where a home once stood.






To close, here’s a song that carries the same quiet breath as the poem — a final touch of calm before you wander on.




Ivor Steven ©  July 2026