Peace – Ivor.Plumber/Poet

Throwback Friday, Dragons and Faeries

Earlier today, my dragon returned to the page in Part 1 of My Dragon, The Tetralogy — a story of flight, memory, and the quiet ache of what might have been. For this week’s Throwback Friday poem, I’m revisiting a poem from May 2019 that carries the same creature into a different sky. It’s a dream‑journey through New York’s mythic corners, where dragons brush past torches, faeries linger in the trees, and hope rises from the ashes.
Below is the poem as I first wrote it — now gently punctuated, but still holding its original fire

Scenes from my 2019 wander through New York — the places where dragons, dreams, and Lennon’s whisper still linger.

This poem first appeared in my debut book Tullawalla, Chapter 3 — “Dragons, Wizards, Faeries, and a Spacecraft”, page 55.

Dragons and Faeries

My dragon flew me to New York,
His scaly tail was singed
by the stoic statue’s torch
as we were landing upon Central Park.

And in the city’s mystical forest I stood
among strawberry fields and woods.
Atop the plaque of my dreams,
I imagined how life should’ve been –
my naked soul, a vision unseen.

I have a dream, like John’s world:
Togetherness, love pristine,
the apple uneaten
and the snake shyly beaten.

I see peace, within evil’s tiredness,
burnt-out flames of the devil’s nakedness
leaving us life’s leftover ashes.
Then the peace dove shall arise from the ruins,
and the lost faeries will return as humans.

And as these memories rise through mist and music, the old dream leans in once more… imagine.

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

A Golden Bowtie

Feature Image : Created by Copilot and me — a wattlebird rising above a soft, cloud‑washed bridge in the sky. I sent my two photos (attached below) to my Copilot app and asked for an image of a wattlebird flying above a bridge in the sky. This is the result: a golden, dreamlike lift.

Today’s poem grew from a poetic anecdote I left on Nancy’s post last week — Suspended: A Sonnet – The Elephant’s Trunk
a moment of sky‑thinking that stayed with me.

A Golden Bowtie

Oh, to safely fly above
that peaceful bridge in the sky.
Like a worldwide dream —
a bowtie’s golden ribbon,
bandaging the stratosphere
together,
from here to Shanghai.

A quiet, drifting companion for the poem’s soft ascent.

Ivor Steven © September 2026

Winging Toward Peace

Sometimes a single flight can carry more meaning than the landscape beneath it.
This morning’s mudlark — lifting from foreign sands, gliding toward familiar green, then swept off course by an unexpected breeze — became the quiet messenger behind this piece. Its journey echoed the fragile paths we all take toward understanding, toward apology, toward peace.
What followed was a poem shaped by wings, weather, and the distant hum of icy choirs.

Winging Toward Peace

Swooping out past the sands of foreign ground
Then flying toward the green, bushy trees
of that once-fabled promised land —
only to be diverted by a bold eastern breeze
that buckled my wings and trembling knees
and sent me falling into the Arctic freeze,
where icy choirs continue the cheers
still singing in the hush of sub‑zero seas

There, huddling inside an iceberg’s solitary marque,
all the compassionate delegates from overseas
gathered to hear pleas for apologies and guarantees
from Greenland’s patient, peaceful trustees.

From foreign sands to frozen seas, the journey ends where quiet voices still know the weight of peace. And so, in Greenland’s calm, the final note on harmonious independence lingers.

Ivor Steven © August 2026

Beyond the Debris (a Tanka)

A simple glance upward — two birds, one sky — became the seed of this poem’s wish for peace.

Beyond the Debris (a Tanka)

Come and fly with me
To where we all want to be
In a peaceful world
Of calm seas and olive trees
Beyond our warring debris

Ivor Steven © April 2026

No More Alibis

A whispered protest beneath a heavy sky—this poem emerged over coffee and quiet defiance.

No More Alibis

I shyly worry, and quietly sigh
about today’s ugly, dark sky.
In the blink of an eye,
the sun might say, “Hi”
and the world awry,
could be rectified.

No more alibis,
or black eyes.

It’s time to notify
the blow-dried wise guy:
The world is not his money supply

We will not be tongue-tied,
nor listen to his falsified
“War cry.”

Ivor Steven © January 2026

Unstable Weather

“Arrival of the Birds” by The Cinematic Orchestra felt like the natural companion — a quiet swell of hope beneath the magpies’ wings.

Unstable Weather

Behind closed doors,
Below the first floor,
Far beyond braided Russia leather,
They shelter from the unstable weather.

Nature’s hierarchy walks together –
Black and white birds of a feather –
And untethered, they will fly forever,
Above the world’s war-weary heather.

Ivor Steven © January 2026

“Walk For Peace”

Featured Image Above: Created by Copilot and me.

This poem began as a poetic comment I shared with Beth, in response to her moving article about a group of monks who set out from the Huong Dao Temple in Fort Worth, Texas. Their 2,300-mile pilgrimage to Washington, D.C. will span roughly 120 days and carry them through ten states — a quiet, powerful gesture of peace.
I’m grateful to Beth for allowing me to reproduce the photos from her post here on my poetry site.
Beth >> walking into the new year with peace. | I didn’t have my glasses on….

“Walk For Peace”

Silently, like daylight moves across a sundial,
The monks walk for peace in a humble style.

Within myself, I wistfully smile,
And hope that all the rank and file
Will also freely walk every single mile.
And add to the world’s peaceful stockpile.

Lisa O’Neill, If I Was A Painter, Lyrics

[Verse 1]
If I was a painter with colours no end
I’d paint the whole thing simply again
Where everything runs into everything
Where every colour is born without sin

[Verse 2]
Red be a roaring river in my veins
Green be the beat of the heart in the trees
Blue be the pull of the moon on the tide
Let brown be the base of some true love’s eyes

[Bridge]
Give us a chance at an earthly lifе
Then pull it from under us when wе arrive
Sending us orderly – what choice had I?
Born under the only sky

[Pre-Chorus]
Vast, vast, vast
Silver, gold and brass
The moon′s milk, the sun’s silk
All move among the stars

[Chorus]
I found out when I listened
Love is received from love
Up in the steely night
Stars span the Galway shawl
I was scared of the underground in London
At the speed of my generation
Are the old people getting forgotten
In this fuss of the world we spin?

[Verse 1]
If I was a painter with colours no end
I’d paint the whole thing simply again
Where everything runs into everything
Where every colour is born without sin

Ivor Steven © January 2026

Above the Mist

Featured Image Above: A street art mural from the township of ‘Chemainus’ on the way to Nanaimo

Today’s poem below, is the one I gave to ‘Sandra’, my cousin Penny’s, sister-in-law, at our luncheon meet up in Nanaimo

Above the Mist

The train of peace and serenity
Has been sliding from futurity to eternity

But now, atop Mount Tzouhalen
Above the misty column of stardom
And above the world’s harbouring problems

I am in another home away from home
Within the Cowichan tribe’s honeycomb
Savouring nature’s harmonious thunderdme

Ivor Steven (c) September 2025

A Fire That Burns in the Cold

A Fire That Burns in the Cold

From behind the trees,
And out of the grasses,
We cannot stop the fire
-That burning desire-
From soaring higher,
Higher than the entire
Starry, starry choir.

So, best we inquire
To the Almighty Supplier:
“Will there be a ceasefire
at the top of your golden spire?”

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

Throwback Friday, Innocent Millipedes

Today’s Throwback Friday poem was written in March 2022, and appears in my third book, “Until Eyes Hear Sound”, Chapter 1, Little Creatures and Birds, page 6

Innocent Millipedes

Please Mr Shootin’ Putin
Do not roll your tanks of destruction
Over the innocent Mr & Mrs Millipede
Millipedes were the earliest animals to breathe air
And make the move from water to land
They date back 428 million years
Now people of the world cannot hold back their tears

Did you know Mr Shootin’ Putin
That Millipedes are fairly timid critters
Docile decomposers that live in the leaf litter
Of forests all over the world!
They aren’t flashy or fast
And they follow the motto
“Slow and steady wins the race”
Millipedes are peaceful
They don’t bite
They can’t sting
And they don’t have pincers to fight back

Please Mr Shootin’ Putin
Do not roll your tanks of destruction
Over the innocence of creation