Music – Page 2 – Ivor.Plumber/Poet

Do Shadows Sleep?

From dawn until dusk, shadows travel faithfully beside us, changing shape with every passing hour. This light-hearted verse wonders what becomes of these silent companions when the sun finally sets.

Do Shadows Sleep?

Shadows eclipse the ground
without making a sound.

Dark, silent phantoms of the day,
the sun’s prying silhouettes, come what may.

Tall, like a juggler on stilts,
or squat like a Scotsman’s kilt.

Tonight my shadow will slip away like a ghost,
following daylight’s river toward the coast.

Do shadows sleep, or do they simply follow daylight’s river toward the coast?

Ivor Steven © October 2026

My Dragon, The Tetralogy: Part 4, My Dragon – Frozen In Time.

Today, Geelong Cereal published the fourth part of my dragon series, My Dragon, The Tetralogy: Part 4, My Dragon – Frozen In Time.
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 4. My Dragon, Frozen In Time

Inspired by a photograph from Derrick Knight’s wonderful website, this dragon poem also appears in our collaborative book, Perceptions. Below is the image of the poem as published in Geelong Cereal magazine.

As my dragon remains suspended in time, this thoughtful song felt like a fitting companion for the journey.

Ivor Steven © October 2026

Throwback Friday: The Reincarnation of a Pumpkin

Halloween prompts often encourage us to look at transformation in unexpected ways. I wrote this poem in response to a Halloween challenge hosted by Ingrid at Experiments in Fiction in October 2020. If you’d like to visit the original prompt, you’ll find the link below.
>> https://experimentsinfiction.com/2020/10/24/eif-poetry-challenge-8-halloween-special/

The Reincarnation of a Pumpkin

My locked bubble is about to go boom,
A year I’ve been a stranger in my own tomb,
Under a pumpkin lid, hiding my gloom,
Where my world was a rotting cave of doom.

Now these orange walls are my life-giving womb,
Being reborn like a smiling old groom,
I’m breaking away from the master’s dead blooms,
Escaping on the green witch’s magical broom.

Flying over the full moon of autumn,
Where I’ll be able to wear my mask and costume,
Hidden under my orange Kaftan from Khartoum,
Then I’ll invade the newsrooms,
and all the children’s bedrooms.

Some poems emerge from unexpected prompts and take on a life of their own. Looking back, this song still seems a fitting companion for a pumpkin determined to escape its fate.

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

Beyond the Night (a Tanka)

Some moments of beauty appear only briefly and are gone before we realise what we have seen. An unexpected glimpse of moonlight inspired this contemplative tanka about fleeting beauty and unnoticed light.

Beyond the Night (a Tanka)

Above twilight clouds
The full moon briefly appeared,
Not being noticed,
Lost sight of the world’s bright side,
And vanished into the night.

As the moon disappeared beyond the twilight clouds, Grace Cummings’ stirring performance of “Heaven” felt like a fitting companion for this journey into the night.

Ivor Steven © October 2026

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.

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.

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.

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.