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

Drowning in Blue (a Tanka)

“Some days the clear sky feels heavier than the clouds we can’t see. Today, the blue above me felt deeper than it looked.”

Drowning in Blue (a Tanka)

Exhaustipated
And discombobulated
Or maybe just tired
Of feeling like I’m drowning
In this endless wash of blue.

A song that drifts in the same blue.

Ivor Steven © May 2026

Magazine features my new poem, “An Interview With Time.”

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, “An Interview With Time,” appears in the new issue. You can read it by following the link below.
>> An Interview With Time – Coffee House Writers

I’ve written about Time in many poems before, and a few of those familiar lines resurfaced as I shaped this one. It felt natural to bring them together here — especially on a day when Time was willing to cooperate and stand still for a moment.

In the stillness where Time stands present, let the music hold the vow that words can only touch.

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 © May 2026

Before the Stars Arise

A quiet moment at day’s end with a strange, familiar weight — the sky unravels into its darker self.

Before the Stars Arise

The evening’s curtain is half drawn
Long shadows spread across the lawn

The hessian horizon resembled the Dawn
As the hazy sky turned a colour fawn

Meanwhile, the bronze clouds groaned and yawned
As though they’d been wrongfully spawned and pawned

Then the world’s breath grows taut and thin
And the approaching darkness folds us in

Let the music carry the last light a little further into the evening.

Ivor Steven © May 2026

Willing (a Haiku)

G’day readers. It has been an emotional weekend — my mother’s birthday yesterday, my wife’s funeral day, and Mother’s Day today here in Australia. This haiku is a small tribute to the gracious and courageous women who shaped me, and to the strength their lives still give me as I move forward.

Willing (a Haiku)

Still willing to fly
Black sky and an arctic wind
Nothing holds me back

For the women who taught me to rise, even on the coldest of days.

Ivor Steven © May 2026

Descending

In the hazy mid‑morning light, the moon lingers above the trees as if carrying a memory too heavy to hold.

Descending

Descending through the treetops
the moon appears to stop —
pausing for a moment,
looking despondent.

Naturally, I ask
“Why such a gloomy face?”

“Only a millennium ago
the earth was a jungle of trees,
but now I perceive
only a fallow globe of woe.”

The moon moves on, whispering its sorrow to anyone willing to listen.

Ivor Steven © May 2026

Throwback Friday, The Woman In Me

G’day readers. As this tender weekend approaches — my mother’s birthday tomorrow, my wife’s funeral day, and Mother’s Day on Sunday here in Australia — I’m returning to a poem from September 2019 for today’s Throwback Friday. It feels like the right one to hold all of that.

Me, sitting on Mum’s knee. … L to R, Carole, Aunties Elizabeth & Pearl, & Grandma

Grandma and her 3 daughters. … My mum (left) and her lady relatives

The Woman In Me

Inside every man
There is a woman

The mother of his soul
The lady of his heart
The kindness in his touch
The passion in his blood

The woman who fostered
The way he shows love

For all the women who shaped our hearts, let this melody bloom again.

Ivor Steven © May 2026

The Cold Facts (a Haiku)

This morning arrived with a soft, icy hush — the kind of cold that settles on rooftops and lingers in the breath, even as the moon looks like an ice cube

The Cold Facts (a Haiku)

An icy morning
Wind-chill down to two degrees
The moon looks cold too!

Let this winter‑blue tune drift beneath the cold morning moon.

Nature’s Canvas (two Haiku)

These two haiku grew from different moments — the first shaped by the quiet colours in my own sky, the second written in response to Colleen’s moon‑lit Quadrille (link below). Together they trace a small passage from daylight’s pastel calm to the deeper bloom of night.
Link: Colleen’s post — The Moon flower, Quadrille, dVerse – Tanka Tuesday

Nature’s Canvas (two Haiku)

The white canvas clouds
Hover in front of the sun
Nature’s pastel sky

In darkness she blooms
The other side of the moon
Above her white tomb

For the moments we hold, and the ones that slip beyond us.

I’m a Silly Old Black Angel

Featured Image Above: A silly old black angel, flapping through another strange day on Earth.

This morning I sent this comment to Gigi’s post — her unbelievable story truly blew me away. Her words sparked something in me, and from that spark I shaped this composite poem. Here’s the original piece that set everything in motion: “A very silly short story…” by Rethinking Life. And Gigi’s reply afterwards said it all: “Ivor, that was wonderful. Can’t thank you enough.”
>> A very silly short story… | Rethinking Life

I’m a Silly Old Black Angel

Beauty is a thing everywhere,
but the definition changes constantly
according to place and species.

Maybe I’m supposed to bring peace to earth,
but no one can do that.
This place is all crazy,
and there’s no argument
against the truth — right!

Life on Earth is so unfair,
and I think I’m supposed to
do something about that too,
but I’ve no idea.
Everything seems so unjust.

I’ll think about it later
What if there is no later?
I suppose then, it won’t matter.
But does anything matter?
“No,” I thought.

And then all of my words,
just kind of flew away.

A quiet place to land, while the world keeps turning beneath my wings.

Before the Morning Moon Sets (a Combined Poem)

In the hush before daylight kisses everything, the setting moon and a lone flyer share the sky’s peaceful journey.

This morning’s moon lingered above Geelong’s blue sky — a quiet witness to words exchanged between kindred writers. Today’s poem gathers those fragments, reshaped from comments left on their pages, into one flowing verse before the morning moon sets.
In stanza order, they are:

Stanza #1, David >> Enemies, or: A rengay – The Skeptic’s Kaddish 🇮🇱
Stanza #2, Sara >> mountain rising | purplepeninportland
Stanza #3, David >> One leg stand , or: A rengay – The Skeptic’s Kaddish
Stanza #4, Kelley >> Listening to Johnny Cash – Piano Girl

Before the Morning Moon Sets

Beware
– of crossing gravel paths.
They say
– ants wearing army boots
Are on the move,
– crushing breadcrumbs
– and breaking straws.
Micro power —
– the mighty insects have their own claws and laws.
– and know how to gnaw and undermine desert wars

Blackness hears our lies.
Mountains pierce the sky.
Sunlight kisses our eyes.

The seam becomes a stream.
The stream trickles into the river.
All rivers journey to the sea,
where all hearts rest peacefully.

Memories do not fade;
they are sparkling pieces of jade.

Let the music widen the horizon a little further, where light, peace, and memory become the quiet journey beyond the world’s grandeur.