A small reflection on the strange path from understanding to uncertainty, and the fragile line between what feels real and what feels lost.
On the Edge of Finality
Physically,
and enigmatically,
Scaling life’s realities
has critically
reached obscurity.
Combined with humanity’s
vanity, inanity, and insanity
and lack of morality –
brutally –
finality
is not an impossibility.
Ivor Steven © January 2026
Where Theo’s tiny tomato and shy seedlings work their quiet miracles… with one curious assistant nearby.
An Anti-depressant Pill, or, Theo’s First Tomato
Lately, my mind has been wandering,
and my tired old quill is meandering
between the lines of my poignant writings.
I’ve been anxiously worrying
about our weary, war-torn world.
In the morning, I gave my ink well
an anti-depressant pill.
The good Doctor Who had prescribed
a relaxing dose of courtyard gardening.
The effervescent tonic worked miracles.
Today, Theo* has produced his first baby tomato,
and my recently planted sunflower seeds
have sprouted into healthy little seedlings.
And the courtyard whispered,
‘There you are… stay awhile.’
*Theo the Tomato bush, who started his miraculous journey late in May, the beginning of our winter.
Ivor Steven © January 2026
“Arrival of the Birds” by The Cinematic Orchestra felt like the natural companion — a quiet swell of hope beneath the magpies’ wings.
Unstable Weather
Behind closed doors,
Below the first floor,
Far beyond braided Russia leather,
They shelter from the unstable weather.
Nature’s hierarchy walks together –
Black and white birds of a feather –
And untethered, they will fly forever,
Above the world’s war-weary heather.
Ivor Steven © January 2026
Gigi’s poem >> https://gigisrantsandraves.wordpress.com/2025/12/30/have-you-noticed , opened a familiar ache — the sense of being small inside a vast, grinding system. This poem rose from that feeling, with Lisa O’Neill’s “Rock The Machine” humming at its edges.
Why Worry?
Government – Corporate piracy –
Rife everywhere in our binary society.
Ironically, our privacy is *actively*
The policy of every dynasty’s refinery.
Corruption: slavery, bribery, impiety.
And privately, I worry about the impropriety,
The calamity’s spidery finality.
Ivor Steven © January 2026
Featured Image Above: Daylight moon, slipping through confetti clouds — a silent witness to the world’s warring manoeuvrers, drifting apart.
Confetti Clouds
I’m slip-sliding downward
from behind the morning clouds –
or are they earth’s mourning shrouds,
discarded by the world’s warlords
then shredded into propaganda streamers,
to deceive all the invisible dreamers?
I am an unbiased, timeless observer
who has witnessed every violent crowd’s
mismanaged, murderous manoeuvre.
Ivor Steven © January 2026
A quiet day indoors — Frankie dozing, Lisa O’Neill singing, and words drifting through the heat.
Upbeat in the Heat
A hot north wind is scorching everything.
The sun is blazing;
inside, we are hiding.
Frankie is sleeping,
And I am writing.
while listening
To Lisa O’Neill Singing
and pondering
how amazing
that her lyrics are always resonating
with the drift of my own wanderings.
“Birdy From Another Realm” Enlightens me with colours; his song is like no other.
Ivor Steven © January 2026
Featured Image Above: From Bing Images, numrush.nl
Here in Geelong, we are going through a warm/hot spell, and this is a poem that I wrote in January 2019, so appropriately, the poem gets replayed today.
Hotter Than Helios
Today is hotter than hot
This town’s a living melting pot
You could fry an egg without a cooktop
I won’t be taking Yorkie for a trot
My body’s losing the plot
Waiting for my aorta’s mystery clots
My writing’s burnt out, on Helios hill
Leaving an arid inkwell, holding a dry quill
Despite the heat, I’ll do an exercise session. It’s my will
To continue with this daily drill
No excuses, to lose sight of spring’s daffodil
Working out, like I’m an old grinding flour mill
Even if I’m over-baked, like Sunday’s hot roast
For her, I’ll take life’s chances to the utmost
.
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 © January 2026
Loaded Guns (a Tu-aiku*)
Sitting on the line,
observing daylight’s decline –
isn’t a hanging crime.
But innocent ones
are still being outgunned by
The world’s loaded guns.
*Tu-aiku – Ivor’s name for a Dual Haiku
Ivor Steven © January 2026
Time & Location (This coming Sunday)
11 Jan 2026, 9:00 am – 4:00 pm
Barwon Heads Community Hall, 77 Hitchcock Ave, Barwon Heads VIC 3227, Australia
Yes, I’ll be there, along with many other Geelong and Victorian Indie Authors. Over 30 local independent writers gathered under one roof- what better way to spend a Sunday morning in January than a trip out to the beautiful Barwon Heads
The Book Reality Experience presents the 3nd Annual Indie Author Summer Book Fair, which celebrates stories from children’s books through to horror, sci-fi, fantasy, and every genre in between. We can’t wait to welcome you to this one-day event filled with over 30 Author Exhibits, providing you with the opportunity to talk directly with independently published authors… some of whom will become your new favourites.
** FREE entry to all visitors.
https://ian5169.wixsite.com/indie-author-book-fa/meet-the-authors
Book Mouse (a Haiku)
A hall full of books
Indie Authors to greet you
The book mouse’s nest
Ivor Steven © January 2026
Featured Image Above: Created by Copilot and me.
It was a rare summer’s morning — the moon falling, the sun rising, both holding the same height in the sky. I stood between them for a moment longer than I meant to, feeling something shift, something settle. The poem began forming there and then, carried on a bridge of clouds. To complete the moment, I’ve paired it with Lisa O’Neill’s The Globe — a song that feels as earthy and genuine as the morning itself.
Between Here and the Edge
I’m no ancient mariner
with a sextant to chart the sky
The moon was falling into bed,
the sun rising ahead,
both at the same height,
as if I were the hinge between them.
Here I stand on their earthbound bridge
at the centre of my own universe,
unsure of my footing near the edge –
am I fading into the advancing ground,
or drifting back toward an old wedding pledge.
The Globe, Lisa O’Neill, Lyris
[Verse 1]
When I was small
Two feet tall
I thought that the world
Was a map on the wall
And that globe of a ball
We′d spin and explore
But that world showed no door to me
[Verse 2]
I grew more
In feet and in lore
I learned to read ’bout the globe
In through the windows of my eyes
I sang the blues and greens
I touched on things one only sings
When they’ve found the key
And still the world in all my awe
Showed no door to me
[Verse 3]
Not wholly old
I’ve paved some road
I’m taller than I’ll ever be
I’ve learnеd things I cannot sing
I spin relentlessly
I pluggеd out of self in doubt
In soul misplaced the key
And lo and behold
That cruel old globe
Went showed its door to me
Ivor Steven © January 2026
Ivor.Plumber/Poet 