Ivor.Plumber/Poet

Throwback Friday, It Was Time To Leave

Cousin Lynn and Robin with Mungo and Kelly

Cousin Maureen and doggies Z-Z and Co-Co

Cousin Penny, and then Dave, Penny, and Ivor

Here I am on a Jet Plane, somewhere over the Pacific Ocean. Therefore today’s Throwback Friday poem is a very appropriate finale piece, to coincide with my amazing adventures in Canada over the past 21 days.

It Was Time To Leave (Revised)

It’s time to tidy up my mess
Clean up the room and get dressed
It’s time to pack my suitcase
Fill the travel bag and vacate this place
It’s time to put on my famous rocker shoes
And walk away from this dream come true
It’s time to say heartfelt goodbyes
To these wonderful Canadian guys
It’s time for final hugs and kisses
Sad farewells and best wishes
It’s time for my usual emotional tears
Separate myself from these every day cheers
It’s time to flyaway from a land of berries and fairies
Leave this magical world of faraway families
It’s time to say a million thank you’s
For making my stay a Really Real great do
It’s time for me to travel back home
With glorious memories of this magical Astrodome

Ivor Steven (c) September 2025

The Unknown (a Haiku)

Please Note: All the attached images are photo montages that I have created, and then they were enhanced by Copilot.

A lone spirit lifts through the moon‑washed clouds, moving toward whatever waits beyond the unknown.

The Unknown (a Haiku)

Through the clouds I fly
I’m a spirit of the night
The unknown is mine

The spirit keeps drifting, following the quiet pull of the unknown.

Ivor Steven © July 2026

An Interesting Flower

One small flower caught my eye on our walk, and of course Frankie had to follow me in — just to make sure I wasn’t finding something better than him.

An Interesting Flower

We were meandering back
along our beaten walking track
when like an undercover spy
I saw a flower with my inquisitive eye
As I ventured into the shrubbery
there, right behind me, was Frankie
“What’s Dad found in there –
is it something tasty for me?”

Well Frankie, I’ve since discovered,
the flower was an African Iris,
they are drought-resistant and like
those sandy banks near our track.

Frankie approved the flower — and he definitely approves this track to finish the walk.

Ivor Steven © July 2026

Coffee House Writers Magazine features my new poem, “Is My Horizon Unreachable?”

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, “Is My Horizon Unreachable?” appears in the new issue. You can read it by following the link below.
>> Is My Horizon Unreachable? – Coffee House Writers

Some moments arrive with a kind of stillness that asks you to look a little longer. Today, the sky was crossed with dark, wiry lines and the slow sweep of wings, each moment carrying its own quiet message. As I followed those shapes toward the brightening horizon, a poem began to form — unplanned, but insistent — rising out of the light which was beyond my reach.

Beyond the last pylon, let the music carry you the rest of the way toward that unreachable 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 © July 2026

Blue Jay Ballet

And so the final arc of my rainbow trilogy rests here, carrying me gently into tomorrow.

Sunday arrives with a softer kind of clarity — rainbow light lingering after the night’s dream‑relay, a lone bird rising through the blue, and the moon keeping quiet watch above it all. After drifting between yesterday, tomorrow, and today, I find myself settling into the calm of the morning, letting its gentle hope unfold in its own time.

Blue Jay Ballet

Dreamtime is a relay
where thoughts have no say;
they inwardly sway
between yesterday,
tomorrow, and today –
they don’t go away.

Old windows don’t fray,
new doors are on delay
in different ways

Life’s calmness
paddles across the bay
Life’s quietness
shares my causeway
Life’s loneliness
is here to stay –
come what may

A gentle reminder that tomorrow still waits in the light — and so the sky carries me forward, come what may.

Ivor Steven © July 2026

Beyond the Rainbow Bridge

Feature Image Above: is a photo montage in which I have glued a ‘cut-out’ bird onto my amazing photo of the rainbow bridge between the trees.

A cold, draining day still offered one quiet wonder —
a rainbow rising through the mist, inviting me to look beyond the familiar and follow a single thought into the blue.

Beyond the Rainbow Bridge

Here on the land’s highest ridge,
between the tall towering trees,
I’m inquisitively flying toward
an enchanting rainbow bridge —
which is mystically spanning
our world’s misty atmosphere.

There above, in the deep blue sky,
beyond the mesmerising arch,
I hear the sun’s advisory sigh —
“Let the grandeur of the universe
be your guiding matriarch”

And for those who wish to wander a little further, here’s a song that carries the same quiet, sky‑bound grace.

Ivor Steven © July 2026

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

Throwback Friday, Steve the Snail. His Story

This lifestyle, philosophical poem was written in November 2022 and returns to a moment of small, steady bravery. Inspired by a lone snail crossing the wet bitumen — slow, deliberate, and determined — it reflects on purpose, persistence, and the quiet journeys we all make.

Steve the Snail. His Story

I wonder what the story was
Why was Steve the Snail?
Crossing the wet bitumen road
There, by himself
Bravely and slowly sliding along
Determined to reach the other side

Steve’s path was a dangerous one
But the purpose of his journey
Remains locked away
Within the privacy
Of his ‘one-story’ home

Steve’s quiet journey reminds us how much courage lives in small, steady steps. Brandi Carlile’s The Story deepens that moment — a song for the hidden reasons and private paths we all carry within our own “one‑story” homes.

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.

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.

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.