Black and White

Over at Weekly Prompts, the  Colour Challenge for July is Black & White. Please visit their fabulous site by clicking on >> Here


Black and White

A calmness follows
The healing of night
As the dark moon
Sinks from sight
Leaving no shadow
Upon this blight

Arise lonely soul
Into the stillness of light
The heart throbs again
As blackness turns white









Ivor Steven ©  July 2026

Above Rainbow Valley

A rainbow rose out of the valley this morning, and I imagined a bird hovering above it — watching the land quiver and the world slowly find its light. This poem grew from that quiet moment.





Above Rainbow Valley


Hovering above the tall, showy rainbow,
I watch the quivering land below
graciously and warmly shake hands
with the phenomenon’s vertical strands.

Then I hear the valley’s enchanted trees
majestically applaud with collective glee
about such a surreal, peaceful sight —
as the faltering world finally sees the light.






This poem found its evening companion in Matt Corby’s “All Fired Up” — a gentle echo from Rainbow Valley.





Ivor Steven ©  July 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

Below the Coconut Palms

In the cool, silvery hush between daytime calm and midnight cloud‑glow, tonight’s full moon drifts above, coinciding with the poem’s own shifting rhythms below.






Below the Coconut Palms

The world’s a sphere of disparity,
like the incongruity
between the becalmed daytime moon
and the shiny orb’s cloudy midnight party —
savouring dark-side ice cream with a silver spoon
and sipping on milky star-dust until noon.

While down here on planet Earth,
between Perth and Fort Worth,
I perceive nothing is calm
below the empty coconut palms.






Where wanderlust meets wonder — let this song carry you to the far places your heart remembers.




Ivor Steven ©  July 2026

Behold

Feature Image Above: A pale, gold sun, a held breath, a path unfolding —and a quiet truth still finds its way through.

Early yesterday morning, I read Gigi’s fierce and tender poem, and something in her words stirred an old ache of my own. What began as a quick response grew into this small reckoning — a quiet look at age, longing, and the goals that slip beyond our grasp.

Gigi >> FYI… | Rethinking Life


Behold

As I grow old
the heart goes cold,
so I am told.

I’ve never been bold,
nor has life been gold.
Dreams remain deep in my soul —
and now, as the mind unfolds,
they’re my only stronghold.

I’m yet to be paroled,
and the resolve of my goal
has been lost and sold.




And so I leave these lines here, drifting toward Cohen’s voice, where the narrowing of life becomes its own kind of truth.





Ivor Steven ©  June 2026

The Impending Implosion

This afternoon’s quiet wait at the café, with Violet’s poem still echoing in my thoughts, stirred a darker reflection beneath the softening sky. These images and lines emerged as the light shifted and the world felt both beautiful and fragile.


Violet’s thoughtful little poem was the spark that set these lines in motion.
Violet >> Nibbles | Thru Violet’s Lentz




The Impending Implosion


Corruption and corrosion
Decimating nature’s frontlines
Ongoing repetitive ugly explosions
Nagging away at the senses of mankind
Ultimately, there’ll be a cataclysmic implosion






And in the hush between notes, the world feels both fragile and fiercely alive.




Ivor Steven ©  June 2026

Four Short Poems

I am extremely proud and humbled by the acceptance of four of my poems by the amazing Susi Bocks, Editor‑in‑Chief at The Short of It. They are “hot off the press” and released for publication today.

A sky full of turning light — a fitting doorway into my four poems published today on The Short of It.
>> Ivor Steven – I Write Her

Jeremy Thomas – Unsplash.com


Two quiet moments from my own walks — small reminders of how light and flight keep finding their way into my words.




Ivor Steven

PUBLISHED ON June6


Scaling Time

Beyond time
Is there another world to find?
When time returns
Will there be a different mountain to climb?

Inside out

Fortresses and walls.
Inside, we cringe and crawl.

Outside, we see only winter and fall.
Beyond the bricks  -who heeds our call?

The Writers

Tired eyes lose sight
Ink flows at night

But still they write
Ink becomes their light

A Moment In Time

Between the descending sun,
And the hessian horizon,
There is a shimmering twilight zone —
Instinctively waiting at the bottom
Of the doorway’s causeway,
For that designated time
When every definitive moment
Emerges into a second. 







And now, let the light carry these moments a little further — inside it all, the music finds the same quiet pulse that shaped these poems





Ivor Steven ©  June 2026

Coffee House Writers Magazine features my new poem, “Living in the Shade.”


Hello, dear readers and followers. I contribute to Coffee House Writers magazine (USA) every second week, and I’m delighted to share that my latest poem, “Living in the Shade,” appears in the new issue. You can read it by following the link below.

>> https://coffeehousewriters.com/living-in-the-shade/

This week’s piece was shaped quietly at my café table, with late‑day light drifting across the floor and Portugal. The Man’s live performance of “Shade” echoing through my headphones — a fitting companion for a poem about those left waiting in the dimmer corners of our world.

Let this song cast its own soft light across the shadows we carry.



.


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

Reaching for the Sun (a Haiku)

A small mushroom on the winter ground caught my eye today, leaning toward a thin slice of sun and reminding me how even the smallest things reach for warmth.

Reaching for the Sun (a Haiku)

Sitting on cold ground
Reaching for the winter sun
Spores falling earthward

When the warmth leans in
let the music rise with the winter light.

Ivor Steven ©  June 2026

The Moon and the Wattlebird (a Tanka)

In the soft morning blue, the half‑moon lingers as a gentle witness, watching the wattlebird rise into its own wide freedom.





The Moon and the Wattlebird (a Tanka)


Even the half moon
Selflessly watches you fly
Toward the deep sky
There, within your winged freedom
You will never be alone





Under the half‑moon’s gentle watch, wherever the flight leads, every journey carries a presence that walks beside it.




Ivor Steven ©  June 2026