Light – Ivor.Plumber/Poet

Echoes of Goodbye

A gentle twilight settled over yesterday’s sky, its fading colours echoing the soft hush of evening. This poem grew from that quiet moment — a lingering farewell woven through the last light of day.

Echoes Of Goodbye

Daylight is on the soft edge of night.
Today’s sentinel sun
has wistfully said goodbye
to the world’s indigenous blue sky.

Twilight time
melodramatically commandeers
earth’s chromatic horizon.

I stand here, amazed and wondering
how do I explain these encircling,
empyreal surroundings
to the echoes of our final goodbye.

A final whisper of twilight, carried forward in song.

Ivor Steven © September 2026

Will I Be the One? (a Tanka)

This morning’s wattlebird carried a question across the sky — a fleeting shimmer of light and wonder. Inspired by that moment, I found myself chasing the same golden touch through words and image, letting the Dream’s warmth echo the poem’s quiet hope.

Will I Be the One? (a Tanka)

There’s a wattlebird
Flying past the golden sun
And then I wondered
Who will be the chosen one
to receive the Midas touch?

And as the wattlebird slips past the golden sun, this song carries the same gentle light forward.

Ivor Steven © September 2026

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

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.”

Ivor Steven © August 2026

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.

Ivor Steven © August 2026

Brighter Than White (a Tanka)

Above the treeline, the day began with wings drifting toward the light.

Brighter Than White (a Tanka)

Quickly, follow me
Through the silhouetted clouds
I hear the wise crow
Has found a hole in the sky
Where the light’s brighter than white

The sky keeps its openings, and somewhere beyond the clouds, the light still waits, brighter than white.

Ivor Steven © July 2026

A Solar Empyrean Halo

A Solar Empyrean Halo

Midmorning’s Rising Sun
Gazing above the usual field of view,
high into the cloudy stratosphere,
I catch sight of a
jetstream’s snowdrops
falling from beyond the rising sun’s
solar empyrean halo.

Twilight’s Setting Sun
Gazing toward the hessian horizon,
below the low misty atmosphere,
I catch sight of an
evanescent cashmere twilight
which had serendipitously caught the setting sun’s
solar empyrean halo.

Let the final light’s echo carry you from morning’s rise to twilight’s hush, and here’s the song that keeps the halo glowing a little longer.

Ivor Steven © July 2026

Two Heavenly Lights

“In this place of darkness and malediction we can but stand in awe and remember its stateless, faceless and nameless victims. Close your eyes and look: endless nocturnal processions are converging here, and here it is always night. Here heaven and earth are on fire.” — Elie Wiesel

A reminder that even in a world shadowed by sorrow, the night still offers its quieter lights — small, celestial gestures that help us keep looking up.

Two Heavenly Lights

I’m a sucker for a crescent moon,
and there below his silver spoon

on this cloudy wintry night
I espied another bright light —

a vision unexpectedly imbued,
sidling toward the glowing moon.

Venus, elegantly blushing with attractiveness,
and the moon beaming with handsomeness —

two twinkling heavenly lights
coyly conversing through the veil of night.

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.

Above and Beyond the Horizon

Where the cloud‑horizon meets the fading sun, twilight balances its colours on the edge of evening

Above and Beyond the Horizon

Here, beneath the twilight zone’s archway,
I see a phenomenal golden causeway.

There, above the horizon’s sentinal treeline
and below the cloudbank’s grigio plateau –
like another parallel pseudo-horizon –

mysteriously, the yellow band of light
momentarily emerges,
despite the fading sun folding into night.