Life – Ivor.Plumber/Poet

Words! A Mind of Their

Some poems arrive in notebooks. Others begin life squeezed into the bottom margin of a newspaper. Later, at the café, the scribbled notes were deciphered and shaped into a poem. Fortunately, my handwriting proved just legible enough to rescue the words before they drifted too far into the moon-zones.

“Words travel in curious ways. Today, WordPress notified me that my site had passed 500,000 all-time views. Each visit has been a step along a path of words, photos and friendships. I am truly grateful for that.“

Words! A Mind of Their Own

I cannot touch my toes
and putting on my clothes
is a task for these old bones,
while my brain’s in moon-zones
floating around on polished stones.

Now where’s that HB pencil?
Quick, before the thought has flown.
These days, this body’s a slow-rising utensil,
and my words have a mind of their own.

Some thoughts arrive quietly, circle for a while, and eventually settle into words. The HB pencil was found, the words came to rest, and the moon-zones drifted peacefully onwards with this song.

Ivor Steven © October 2026

Coffee House Writers Magazine features my new poem, “A Frozen Birthday Cake”

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, “A Frozen Birthday Cake,” appears in the new issue. You can read it by following the link below.
>> A Frozen Birthday Cake – Coffee House Writers

As I reflected on “A Frozen Birthday Cake,” this beautiful instrumental seemed a fitting companion, carrying its own sense of memories frozen in time.

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

At the End of Day (a Haiku)

While the rainstorm moves on, the sky remembers only light. Beneath a rain-washed evening sky, golden sunlight broke through the clouds and illuminated the horizon. Nature seemed content to begin again.

At the End of Day (a Haiku)

Following the rain
Nature is smiling again
She feels not our pain

The rainstorm moved on, the sky remembered only light, and this song seemed a fitting companion to the evening.

Ivor Steven © October 2026

Unfazed

Some poems arrive unexpectedly. This one began with a coffee, a rainy Sunday, and a flock of local ibis flying low beneath lingering clouds. As I watched their steadfast progress through the weather, I found myself reflecting on the grace of creatures that simply continue on their way, unfazed by conditions that might send the rest of us searching for shelter.

Unfazed

Flying low under the radar
below the lingering, languid clouds
a flock of local ibis is gracefully gliding
under the stuporous shroud

Unfazed by the sun’s faded gaze
and the daytime moon’s invisible luna blaise
the birds remain elegantly close-knit
and cooperatively proud.

Amazed, watching from this cosy café
where warmth and weather meet as one,
I envy their impassive passage,
those steadfast, unbending birds
through the world’s relentless rain.

Sometimes the sky, the birds, and the music all arrive on the same day. For me, this piece now belongs to the birds and the weather.

Ivor Steven © October 2026

Evil Nuclei

Featured Image Above: Originally my blurry photo, which was then sharpened and enhanced by Copilot

High above the clouds, a lone dragonfly pauses to contemplate a world seemingly intent on creating its own troubles. Sometimes a fortunate photograph becomes a poem. In this case, a blurred dragonfly inspired an unsettling phrase and the lines that followed.

Evil Nuclei

I’m a lone dragonfly
in a vast, bedazzling sky
wondering why
there are no other guys
up here passing by.

Wait, down there,
between Dubai and Versailles,
I see a swarm of evil nuclei
flying toward the forests of Paraguay,
in search of a shady alibi.

As the dragonfly drifts across a bedazzling sky, Moby’s Porcelain lingers among the clouds.

Ivor Steven © October 2026

Fervid Feathers

Under a cloudless spring sky, the afternoon sun burnished every wing and feather with a brilliant sheen. Their restless movements through sun, shade, and breeze inspired the following poem, drafted with an HB pencil on a very warm afternoon at the café.

Fervid Feathers

The burnished birds
have warily bathed enough
under spring’s hot midday sun.

Their reflective, fervid feathers
shimmer like sails
of sleek black satin.

Then, frantically, the sun-polished birds
follow the flighty dragonflies and bees
into the succoring shady trees.

Refreshing their fervid feathers
in the afternoon’s soothing
sea breeze.

As the afternoon heat fades into a soothing sea breeze, here is a charming little song to accompany today’s feathered observations, and one that may be new to some readers.

Ivor Steven © October 2026

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.

My Dragon, The Tetralogy: Part 3, My Dragon – Can He Fly.

Yesterday, Geelong Cereal published the third part of my dragon series, My Dragon, The Tetralogy: Part 3, My Dragon – Can He Fly.
Geelong Cereal is a free online magazine showcasing local writing and creative arts, with a special love for serial fiction and stories from the Geelong region. It’s a welcoming space for writers at every stage of their creative journey, and I’m delighted that my dragon has found a home there.
A heartfelt thank‑you to Mel, Geelong Cereal’s editor, whose care and encouragement helped bring this latest chapter to life.
>> My Dragon, The Tetralogy: Part 3. My Dragon, Can He Fly

Below is the image of the poem as it appeared in the magazine.

As I finished Part 3 of my dragon’s journey, this song seemed to capture his spirit perfectly. A reminder that before we learn whether we can fly, we first need the courage to look toward the sky.

Is Time A Daydream?

A rainbow above, a wattlebird lifting below — and somewhere between them, a little daydream opened. This poem follows that gentle climb into thin air, where time loosens, and words drift without lines.

Is Time A Daydream?

Wattlebirds and rainbows
do not rhyme,
but both are sublime,
and glow in the sunshine
there above my eyeline.

Perhaps a mirage of mine
inside my mind
during my daydream time.

Where life is not a crime,
and the tall alpines
are painless to climb.

Up there,
beyond thin air,
I breathtakingly find —
only words with no lines.

For those still wandering between half-waking and half-dreaming… as daydream time drifts beyond thin air, let this beautiful song carry the journey a little further.

Half Moon, Half Asleep, Half Awake

Moon adrift in cloud.
Pigeon in full flight.
A weary poet somewhere between the two.

Half Moon, Half Asleep, Half Awake

This morning I am sluggishly half asleep.
The chunky, cloudy sky’s
delaying my half-open eyes
from having a closer peep.

Today I am drowsy and half awake
The heavy, humid atmosphere’s
preventing the release
of my other half’s quiet airbrakes.

Outside, among the surreal world’s
shrouds, I nonchalantly await
for my animated cosmetic twirls
to create an awakening earthquake.

No expectations, just a half moon, a passing pigeon. The poem arrived slowly. So did the afternoon. So did this song.