Anti-war – Ivor.Plumber/Poet

Throwback Friday, Please! No More Encores (Written by Frankie)

Quote: “Why do the war’s doors stay closed to friendly paws?” 🐾 … Frankie 🐶

Frankie wrote this poem on October 21st, 2024. In just a few lines, he imagines a peaceful world with an open door, an earthen floor, and a green décor. It is also a heartfelt plea that humanity stops applauding war’s repeated appearances.

Before the poem, here is Matisyahu’s inspiring “One Day”.

Please! No More Encores (Written by Frankie)

When war is over
My door will stay open
The floor is earthen
My decor is green
I adore the theme

Please!
No more encores
I abhor
The vapour
Of war

Frankie asks for no more encores. The music that follows reflects on why they keep returning, disguised and renamed, as though each generation must learn the same lesson again.

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 invoice
for the Book, plus Postage.

Ivor Steven © October 2026

Nature’s Wings

Watching birds in flight, I am often struck by their grace and seeming freedom from the burdens we humans create for ourselves. Inspired by a series of bird photographs, this poem begins with nature’s gifts before quietly turning its gaze towards a troubled world below.

Nature’s Wings

Birds have wondrous wings
and can also sprightly sing

Birds’ lovely lightweight feathers
can glide and hover forever

Birds have perceptive eyes
and do not criticise or demonise

Birds possess sensitive ears
and escape the world’s warring fears

Birds shun the battered ground
while eyes still hear that shattered sound

While shaping this poem at the café, I heard “Lift” by Marisa Anderson and felt this gentle melody drifting on the same wings that inspired today’s poem.

Ivor Steven © October 2026

The Dark Side of Sunset

A peaceful sunset can feel like the world exhaling — yet sometimes, in that fading light, a different truth appears. This morning’s sky carried both beauty and unease, and my thoughts followed the sun toward the shadowed side of our turning planet.

The Dark Side of Sunset

I was absentmindedly marching,
away from worldly soul-searching,
when I saw the sun arching
toward the dark side of our planet.

Then I wondered
who’s there on the other side
of this old orb of granite.

And who decides
who lives and who dies
during the bleak, black night,
when the bombs batter
what’s left of the moonlight.

A final reflection on the sun’s descent — and the stark questions it leaves burning in the dark.

Ivor Steven © September 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

Throwback Friday, Eating Chocolates and Watching Wars

Chocolates are delightfully delicious … wars are deadly and destructive …
Above the valley, a white-feathered messenger rises — reminding us how fragile peace can be

Yesterday we visited the Moorabool Valley Chocolate Café for coffee and cake, and the moment brought this poem back to me — a piece I wrote in August 2018, when a simple liquor chocolate stirred memories, questions, and the ache of a world still at war.

Eating Chocolates And Watching Wars (Revised)

Hungrily, I’m eating a liquor chocolate —
a selfish heavenly delight,
arousing my old mind’s senses.

I wonder
what she would be thinking,
looking down from the stars
through her sensitive olive eyes —
her everlasting smile,
her gracious courage,
her generous heart,
her forgiving soul,
her love for me and you.

I wonder
what she would be thinking,
seeing these futile, bloody wars
through her compassionate olive eyes —
the dead and maimed,
the millions of shuffling homeless,
the distraught, broken families,
the crying children locked in sheds,
the desperate refugees with no beds.

I wonder
what she would be thinking
while she preciously
holds the last white dove,
observing these senseless wars
that never ever ends.

And for the song that holds the cracks and the light, here is Leonard Cohen’s Anthem — offered to a world where the last white dove may never fly free again.

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

“Spirit Bird”

There are moments when a song gathers everyone in the room into one breath. Watching “Spirit Bird” live in Brussels, I felt that pull — a reminder that we’ve walked this path before, laughed and cried before, stood on this same wounded ground before. And still, the spirit rises.

Morning’s silent wings keep tracing the same old stories.

“Spirit Bird”

Yes, we’ve seen it all before
“Give it time, and we wonder why,
do what we can, laugh, and we cry
And we sleep in your dust
because we’ve seen this all before.”
… The finale lyrics from Xavier Rudd’s emotional song “Spirit Bird.”

The World’s Cold Old Fire

Here in the quiet between sun and trees, I steady myself before the day’s cold fire.

The World’s Cold Old Fire

Beyond the trees,
I see our warm old sun.
We do not have another one.

Above the trees,
I see our bold old moon.
We do not have another one.

Among the trees,
here I stand
on earth’s wartime cremated land.
We do not have another one.

Here I sway,
with hand on my heart —
I do not have another one.

I’m being immorally overwhelmed
by the world’s cold old fire.
We do not need another one.

A song to walk with through the world’s cold old fire.

Handless Watchbands, or Who’s Counting

As the weekend’s protest thread continues, this poem looks at what we count — and what we choose not to.

VJ’s article on holding to a deeper “why” nudged me toward this poem — a poignant protest shaped by questions of time, land, and what we risk by looking away.
Her story is below—the spark behind this poem.
>> Having a Why – One Woman’s Quest

Also, over at Weekly Prompts, the Weekend Challenge is the word Invasive. To visit their fabulous site, please click >> Here

Handless Watchbands, or Who’s Counting

How many grains of sand
are left in the ancient hourglass?
Why are the Holy grasslands
a desert full of misguided missiles
and handless watch bands?

How many missiles
do the leaders in Versailles
have to count
before the amount
is called genocide?

For what we cannot look away from, let the song bear witness.

Silence as The Bombs Fall Down

This morning’s feather, and Matt Rai’s raw protest song, stirred the same truth in me — silence has its limits when the bombs fall down.

Silence as The Bombs Fall Down

Today I distil
My silent words
With an ancient quill
That’s never been a blunt sword,
Nor written in soft pastel.

The scribe’s feather is light,
But still heavy enough to fight
For what I believe is right.

Protest letters from a poetic knight
About humanity’s warring blight,
Which has quickly become the world’s
Blundering bombsight.

Solar Isosceles and More Debris

Sometimes poems arrive in clusters, even when we don’t plan them. After posting A Fistful of Sand (CHW), another anti‑war piece surfaced, and Beyond the Debris continued that same uneasy thread …
It seems I’ve unintentionally written a small trilogy — each poem looking at conflict from a different angle, each one carrying its own weight. Tonight’s piece steps further into the aftermath, where the smoke settles, and the world tries to breathe again.

Solar Isosceles and More Debris

From behind the bushes and trees,
crows crash through the branches and leaves.

And flee toward our solar Isosceles,
like blind bats that can now see
beyond the world’s charred canopy –

a toxic cloud of wartime debris
and the smouldering embers
of expendable draftees.