Life – Page 2 – Ivor.Plumber/Poet

Universe of Light (a Tanka)

A heavy sky greeted us before breakfast, the clouds shifting and uncertain as we walked beneath the trees. Yet even in that muted light, something brighter seemed to stir behind the grey — a quiet reminder that beyond the darkness, a softer universe is always waiting to break through.

Universe of Light (a Tanka)

Above nature’s trees
Behind life’s wavering clouds
Beyond the darkness
There’s a universe of light
Waiting to caress your soul

Where the glow waits behind every wavering cloud.
Even here, the universe of light begins to open.

Ivor Steven © August 2026

The Blue Fescue

The sky felt unsettled today — light pushing through cloud, a lone bird cutting across the haze, and the sun straining behind its thinning veil. These moments stayed with me, each one a quiet reminder of how fragile our atmosphere has become. From those three glimpses of the day, this small protest poem emerged, carrying both concern and hope for the blue we’re slowly losing.

Alongside that moment of sky and flight, two other images stayed with me today — another glimpse of the unsettled light above, and a quote from The Book Bird notice board. Richard Flanagan’s words felt uncannily aligned with the mood of this piece, reminding me how writing can step beyond politics and speak from a deeper, more human place. Together, these images helped shape the protest thread running through The Blue Fescue.

The Blue Fescue

Above Earth’s governing clouds,
beyond the atmosphere’s
atomic shrouds,
I hear the sun’s white veneer
pulsating from inside
the sky’s diminishing blue.

There hiding — teary-eyed —
waiting for an overdue
enlightening breakthrough
to cure the world’s
stewed blue fescue.

A song for the shifting sky — a reminder that even in the blur between heroes and villains, we’re still searching for the light that carries us forward.

Ivor Steven © August 2026

The World’s Dulcified Sty

A whisper from the deep past — where the earth was whole and the old rhythms still held sway. The music stirs that memory, and the images catch its fading light.

The World’s Dulcified Sty

The twilight sun doesn’t die;
it just goes down to hide
for a bit of shut-eye
and a quiet cry —

about the Earth being classified
by those who turn a blind eye
to the world’s dulcified sty,
that continues to be cannibalised
by the corporate blowfly’s
mercenary money supply.

Ivor Steven © August 2026

Bright Yellow

The late afternoon sky felt a little ‘confused’ — washed in grey, unsure of what it wanted to be — yet something small and golden stayed with me. By 4am, those quiet flashes of colour were still lingering in my thoughts, reminding me that even the softest moments can brighten themselves into something worth capturing.

Celebrating 11 years with WordPress …

This weekend, the Challenge on Weekly Prompts is the word Confused. To visit their fabulous site, please click on >> Here

Bright Yellow

I cannot catch the sun
Above the trees’ expanses
And the cloud’s soft ski run.
Yet through the reaching branches,
Across nature’s pure white canvas,
I see bright yellow wattle flowers —
A small still-life masterpiece
Colourfully reminding me
That there is more than one way
To brighten up my day.

And in that quiet moment, even the grey sky learned to shine a little yellow.

Ivor Steven © August 2026

Learning to Fly (a Senryu)

A lone bird rising into the morning sky reminds us that every flight begins the same way — meeting the wind, opening our wings, and trusting the air to hold us.

Learning to Fly (a Senryu)

How to fly away
Face the wind and spread your wings
Leap and trust yourself

And sometimes, in the lift between fear and hope, we discover the wings we didn’t know we had.

Ivor Steven © August 2026

Distant Stars — A Poem for Gina

Last evening’s twilight brought two distant birds gliding across the sky — a quiet moment I thought little of at the time. But this morning, Gina’s birthday bundle arrived from Kuala Lumpur, carrying its own warmth across the miles. Suddenly those birds felt like a gentle reflection of our long friendship: separated by distance, yet always moving within the same sky. From that pairing of twilight wings and Gina’s thoughtful bundle, this three‑couplet poem emerged — three small waves of acknowledgement, connection, and renewal.

Gina’s response: “This is a very special poem — yes, please post it; too beautiful to be kept hidden. Love the second stanza about the stars.” — Gina

Distant Stars — A Poem for Gina

Long grey clouds may separate our friendship,
but distance is not part of the script.

We endearingly continue to wave from afar,
like a constellation’s pair of outlying stars.

Luminously looking forward to our next meeting,
and tenderly renewing our curriculum vitae greetings

A fitting accompaniment — Angus & Julia Stone’s “Celestial Bodies,” a live performance with the same quiet, sky‑bound warmth that inspired this poem.

Ivor Steven © August 2026

Zadar Sunsets (a Tanka)

This Tanka began with a small moment of irony. While sheltering from the cold and waiting for the weather to clear, I spotted a piece of street art near the café — the words “Sunsets in Zadar” painted across a brick wall. I noticed straight away that it carried a perfect five‑syllable rhythm, an ideal opening line for a Haiku or Tanka. From that simple spark, the poem grew into a quiet reflection spoken from the sun itself, reaching across horizons with its global glow.

Zadar Sunsets (a Tanka)

Sunsets in Zadar
I’m nowhere near Croatia
But here within view
Above your hill’s horizon
My global glow finds your land

A final touch of light to end the moment — a sunset song to accompany the sun’s own words, drifting across horizons just as the poem does.

Ivor Steven © August 2026

Into the Blue

In this solitary silhouette, I felt the sky fold back into its deeper self — a quiet reminder that infinity is not a distant realm but a shift in perception. Darkness becomes brightness when seen in reverse, and even the faintest glow can reveal the universe’s hidden architecture. These three captures from my afternoon walk opened that doorway, and as I sat with them at the café, the poem below arrived in a small explosion of insight — a moment where inverted light found its voice.

Into the Blue

I’m unravelling my way
From out of the grey
And back into the blue
For an unobstructed view
Of the unfettered universe
Where I can observe light in reverse

I perceive the panorama of infinity’s darkness
To be a cosmic aurora of brightness —
Not a mere perception of blackness
But a transparent glow of hopefulness

Two visions of blue — one rising from the depths, one bursting into joy — each reflecting a different facet of the journey from grey to light. Together they complete the sky the poem began.

“And so the sky sings twice.”

This Morning, or This Anxious Man

This poem grew from two separate comments I left on Nancy’s site, written almost four weeks apart. Different days, different moods — yet when I revisited them, they seemed to lean toward one another and form a cohesive whole.
Stanzas 1 and 2 came from La Casa Azzurra – The Elephant’s Trunk
and stanzas 3, 4, and 5 from What’s Left Behind – The Elephant’s Trunk

Fresh shoes for familiar paths — proof enough that this man plans on walking a little further yet.

Over at Weekly Prompts, the weekend challenge is the word “Anxiety”. To visit their fabulous site, please click on >> Here

This Morning, or This Anxious Man

I woke up this morning,
which is always a good thing —
with blue surrounding my head,
quietly filtering through the blinds
from dawn’s levitating, bright blue sky.

I do not need to ask why
the tranquil colour blue
serendipitously keeps me flying high.

I am who I am.
I’m an old man,
and I do the best I can.

My dreamworld plan
is out of my hands.

I remember how it all began,
and here I am —
between Cannes and scans,
still walking this land.

For the fragments that find each other, the blue mornings, the old roads, and the man who keeps trusting the day ahead.

Eye to Eye, or I to I

Down a quiet back lane near the café, this striking street art stopped me in my tracks — it felt like a quiet conversation waiting to happen, eye to eye with the unexpected.

Eye to Eye, or I to I

With one eye querying mankind
and the other eye wondering
about my state of mind —
bewildered and always pondering
what’s real beyond my Venetian blinds.

I am neither refined nor confined,
and I have escaped being quarantined.

I question myself.
Are my eyes behind the times,
or have I misread my bookshelf’s
poetry finds and the fairytale rhymes?

A final glance, and the moment drifted on — leaving its quiet echo behind, carried forward now in the music’s slow drift