Philosophical – Ivor.Plumber/Poet

Steve the Snail’s Bookcase

Feature Image Above: Created by Copilot and me.

As twilight settles across the shelves, Steve pauses for thought atop his old bookcase…

Steve the Snail’s Bookcase

I’m sitting in a secret place
on top of this old bookcase —
I’m not a nutcase,
but wistfully wondering about that space
between the sun’s twilight zone
and the world’s traversing horizon.

Is that the mysterious place
beyond third base,
the dark coalface,
that I’m yet to embrace —
my final footrace?

But wait — before I vanish into space
without a trace,
I need to don my carapace
and tighten these slivery bootlaces.

Steve’s gentle reminder drifts in: put your hat and shoes on, and enjoy life while you’re able.

As Steve settles into the hush of twilight, this song drifts in beside him…

Ivor Steven © September 2026

Tracing the Lines

The late afternoon moon often feels like a reminder — a quiet presence tracing its way across the sky while we trace our own paths below. In its soft light, every line in our hands and every mark on the land seems to carry a story of where we’ve been and where we’re still going. This poem rests inside that moment of reflection, asking what it means to follow the lines that shape our lives.

Tracing the Lines

There you are,
all of you,
way out there,
full and aware –
tracing the lines
in my hands.

And there are
no new brands
on the land;
every grain of sand
still understands.

There’s a crack
in everything –
in all of you
out there,
feeling open and bare –
tracing the lines
in my full glare.

A recently released piece, carrying the same gentle pull of the moon’s slow journey across the sky

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

Pigeons of the World (a Tanka)

This afternoon’s sky gifted me a flock of silhouettes — pigeons rising and circling through the light as if carrying the world’s weight on their wings. Their quiet resilience inspired the Tanka below, a small reflection on the lives caught beneath the shadows of conflict.

Pigeons of the World (a Tanka)

Here under the sun
I am not the only one
Being overrun
By the world’s greedy hired guns
Who’s minding our war torn sons?

And still the sky remembers what we forget — even the pigeons know the rise and fall of empires.

Ivor Steven © August 2026

The Moon’s Daytime Matinee

There are moments in the afternoon when the sky invites us to sense more than we see — when a pale moon lingers above our familiar fixtures and asks us to listen with our eyes.
Perhaps, One Day, we’ll pause long enough to notice our daytime luminary’s quiet offerings.

Over at Weekly Prompts, it’s time for the “One Day Prompt.” To visit their fabulous site, please click on >> Here

The Moon’s Daytime Matinee

Mid-afternoon,
and the half moon
is lingering
in the middle of the sky,
glowing like a luminary’s lantern.

There for everyone
to listen with their tired eyes
and peruse the moon’s
visionary daytime matinee.

Perhaps,
at the same moment,
the audience will absorb
the extra light waves
from the ancient orb’s
timeless wisdom.

And as the afternoon drifts on, the moon leaves its quiet note behind, a reminder that even in daylight, wonder still finds a way to shine.

Ivor Steven © July 2026

Unwinding (a Senryu)

In the soft drift between yesterday’s echo and tomorrow’s hush, I found myself pausing — watching a magpie unwind in the morning light, and hearing a song carry the same quiet truth. Some moments ask nothing of us but to breathe, to notice, to be held gently in the turning of time

Unwinding (a Senryu)

Living for today
Remembering yesterday
Minding tomorrow

And in this song’s wind‑worn footsteps, my little senryu finds its own way forward.

Ivor Steven © July 2026

Flying Through the Sun-veiled Clouds

While capturing the sun‑veiled clouds yesterday, a passing group of pigeons slipped into my frame — a quiet, serendipitous moment that inspired the poem taking flight below.

Flying Through the Sun-veiled Clouds

My weary wings are cold and old,
yet despite my life’s controlled leasehold —
I have a sense of being almost paroled and sold.

I’m boldly journeying
above the rolling cloud-deck,
toward the transcendental edge
of that unfolding hole in the sky
where the golden seam of light
will once again resurrect
my silhouette’s pluckiness
to continue flying
through the great beyond.

And so I rise, though frayed and worn,
my fading shadow, albeit weather‑torn,
still seeks the glow where new skies are born.

As the cold day folds away, I’ll let the music carry the final light of the day.

Throwback Friday, A Finite in the Infinite

This whimsical, philosophical poem was written in November 2020.
“This universe is the wreckage of the infinite on the shore of the finite”
… Swami Vivekananda

A Finite in the Infinite

Curiosity opens my eyes at first light,
I venture beyond my cocoon of fright,
And begin to see the world’s perceived fears —
Wingless, I crawl away from the sea of tears.

Tired of romancing the stone,
I threw a rock into the ocean,
Hit the great white ghost in the head,
And fed the hungry seagulls more bread.

This is no time to throw the towel in;
I just heard the bell for round two ring.
The power of the universe glows at night,
And I am but a finite in the infinite.

And in the quiet drift between the finite and the infinite, a song reminds us what it means to be alive.

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.

Coffee House Writers Magazine features my new poem, “Is My Horizon Unreachable?”

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, “Is My Horizon Unreachable?” appears in the new issue. You can read it by following the link below.
>> Is My Horizon Unreachable? – Coffee House Writers

Some moments arrive with a kind of stillness that asks you to look a little longer. Today, the sky was crossed with dark, wiry lines and the slow sweep of wings, each moment carrying its own quiet message. As I followed those shapes toward the brightening horizon, a poem began to form — unplanned, but insistent — rising out of the light which was beyond my reach.

Beyond the last pylon, let the music carry you the rest of the way toward that unreachable light.