Memories – Ivor.Plumber/Poet

Throwback Friday, Whispering Flowers

It was “our” 50th Anniversary yesterday, the 10th of September. Whispering Flowers was written back in early 2019, during my recovery from two strokes — a time when every small journey felt tender and deliberate.
Today, the flowers have been delivered, and we’ve spent the afternoon in the sunshine, sharing an anniversary lunch at the café and a glass of red, letting the memories settle gently around us.

Whispering Flowers (Tullawalla, page 41)

Carole and I, 45 years ago, before her MS developed.

At the cemetery with flowers for Carole, and then to the Cafe for lunch and a toast to Carole.

Whispering Flowers (Revised)

I went shopping this morning,
To buy her flowers
For our anniversary day.

A bus trip to the local florist,
then I boarded another bus to the cemetery —
my first time on a bus carrying flowers.

Bouquet in hand, on I hopped,
You could’ve heard a pin drop.

Over the silence, I heard solemn whispers.
The men on the bus courteously nodded,
And the ladies knowingly smiled.

Gratified, I dipped my cap in acknowledgement.
Then I started to sense the day’s emotions arise,
and with my honesty glowing,
I felt proudly special.

And as Scarborough Fair drifts through the afternoon light, I carry her memory faithfully, where flowers and remembrance quietly meet.

Ivor Steven © September 11th 2026

I See You Now, Fifty Years, Today

Fifty years feels both distant and close, a milestone carried quietly through my days.
Some memories soften, some sharpen, but one truth remains — I still see her in the small moments, in the quiet spaces, in the light that lingers.
Today, I honour that presence the only way I know how: with a few simple lines.

I See You Now, Fifty Years, Today

A day I celebrate every day —
every day, walking my narrow path,
I see you now.
Every day, looking into our misty mirror,
I see you now.

Fifty years, today —
every night, in my dreams,
I see you now.
Every night, in the stars.
I see you now.

I am here,
you are where you are.
One day, my dear,
I’ll join you in the stars.

A song that echoes the way I still see her — in dreams, in stars, in the quiet of today.

Ivor Steven © September 10th 2026

Tomorrow’s Our 50th Anniversary (a Tanka)

Fifty years arrives like a soft, golden hush — a moment where memory steps forward, hand in hand with the present. As tomorrow’s anniversary draws near, I found myself looking toward the sky, letting its warm light guide me back through the years. This Tanka is the quiet breath before the day itself, a small reflection of the love still shimmering in every sunset.

Tomorrow’s Our 50th Anniversary (a Tanka)

Sunset’s pure-gold sky
And I’m inwardly smiling.
She’s flamboyantly
channeling me — a bright clue:
tomorrow’s our golden day.

And tomorrow, as the golden sky leans close, her light will rise through me once more.

Ivor Steven © September 2026

Throwback Friday, Soundless

In keeping with this week’s theme on clouds, light, and the quiet mysteries of the universe, I’m revisiting a reflective poem from August 2018. I’ve made a few small word changes — gentle adjustments that preserve the essence of the original piece.

Soundless (Revised)

My celestial dusk is earthward bound.
Evening clouds are not making a sound.
I cannot hear her moon shadows hit the ground,
and our silent night is being slowly drowned.
Then my midnight queen arises, to be crowned —
the Goddess of Light … and I am spellbound.

A soft companion piece, echoing the poem’s silence, carried on a gentle breath of light.

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 © August 2026

Memory Lane

A quiet moment in the grass this morning — just me, my camera, and a lone mushroom in the light to guide me down memory lane — a soft umbrella for tired legs and fading recollections. This poem is the path I followed beneath its shelter.

I don’t often do this, but before the poem, I’ve added a song that’s always offered me a quiet kind of shelter. Dylan’s Shelter from the Storm feels like the right companion for this morning’s walk and the memories that followed.

Memory Lane

I’m slowly drifting back
along a familiar winding track.

My old legs feel like used lard —
I can’t travel another yard;
the climb has been long and hard.

Please, can you give me shelter
here, under your mushroom’s umbrella?

Let my weariness rest for a few moments
while my memory lane’s missing residents
struggle to recall who’s the President.

And as the day drifts on, this song carries my missing dreams down along memory lane.

Ivor Steven © July 2026

Throwback Friday, Lost In Space

Penned in June 2020, now relaunched for Throwback Friday — a flight through memory and space, chasing love through the stars.

Two glimpses of flight — the bird and the moon — guiding the way toward her celestial star.

Lost In Space (Revised)

I’m leaving this land of lost grace
And flying off into space
It’s time to run away
My aircraft, Itmims, is leaving today

Love is a stowaway in the heart
And love needs a head start
Somewhere in this universe
There’s love waiting in her celestial purse

Let the music drift with you into the long dark, where love still finds its way.

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.

The Creamy Side of the Moon

Feature Image Above: was created by Copilot and me.

After a quiet visit and a long walk back to earth, these words arrived with the evening light.

And for Sadje’s: What do you see #339- 4th May, 2026. I chose this Photo
To visit her fabulous site, please click >> Here

The Creamy Side of the Moon

Here I stand with my wedding spoon
on the creamy side of the moon

I’ll be home sometime soon
Probably midafternoon

I’ve been visiting her crystal tomb
on the tawny side of the moon

Then, my friendly and sympathetic flock
will guide my spirit back

Later, after I’ve emptied my backpack
and downed a glass of cognac
Frankie will lead me back
along our earthly walking track

For the moments that linger between moonlight and the gathering birds, let this song carry you the rest of the way down to earth.

Neapolitan Sky

The evening sky unfolded in soft Neapolitan colours, and with it came memories, tenderness, and the quiet echo of a vow once spoken.

Neapolitan Sky

Twilight’s sentimental pink sky
Triggered old memories behind my eyes

While the horizon’s creamy eiderdown
Composedly kept me calmly bound

Then dusk’s velvety edge
Reminded me of our pledge

From the moment our togetherness found its start
We whispered our promise — “’Til death do us part”

Life’s Missing Teacher

These four couplets unfold like stepping stones — small pauses across the quiet waters of loss. Each one holds a moment of recognition, a shift in understanding, a breath before the next step. Paired with Leonard Cohen’s “Teachers,” the poem traces the lessons we never received, and the ones we learn only by walking toward them

Life’s Missing Teacher

I never found a teacher,
who taught me how to grieve.

The unforeseen creature
was difficult to perceive.

After unplugging her extension cord,
time was always near.

While wandering toward
the edge of life’s weathered pier.