Poems – Ivor.Plumber/Poet

Coffee House Writers Magazine features my new poem, “The Tunnel of Light”

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, “The Tunnel of Light,” appears in the new issue. You can read it by following the link below.
>> The Tunnel of Light – Coffee House Writers

Some mornings begin with an ordinary walk along the causeway — and then, without warning, the world tilts into something quietly mystical. Light flickers in strange patterns, reflections shimmer like fire, and a simple tunnel becomes a threshold into another realm. Today’s poem grew from one such moment, where reality and imagination briefly overlapped, leaving behind a trail of luminous images that asked to be shaped into words.

And as the birds luminously journey toward the renaissance of the golden sun, Ayreon’s The Tunnel of Light becomes the perfect companion — a musical echo of the same radiant passage from shadow into wonder.

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

The World’s Dulcified Sty

A whisper from the deep past — where the earth was whole and the old rhythms still held sway. The music stirs that memory, and the images catch its fading light.

The World’s Dulcified Sty

The twilight sun doesn’t die;
it just goes down to hide
for a bit of shut-eye
and a quiet cry —

about the Earth being classified
by those who turn a blind eye
to the world’s dulcified sty,
that continues to be cannibalised
by the corporate blowfly’s
mercenary money supply.

Ivor Steven © August 2026

Bright Yellow

The late afternoon sky felt a little ‘confused’ — washed in grey, unsure of what it wanted to be — yet something small and golden stayed with me. By 4am, those quiet flashes of colour were still lingering in my thoughts, reminding me that even the softest moments can brighten themselves into something worth capturing.

Celebrating 11 years with WordPress …

This weekend, the Challenge on Weekly Prompts is the word Confused. To visit their fabulous site, please click on >> Here

Bright Yellow

I cannot catch the sun
Above the trees’ expanses
And the cloud’s soft ski run.
Yet through the reaching branches,
Across nature’s pure white canvas,
I see bright yellow wattle flowers —
A small still-life masterpiece
Colourfully reminding me
That there is more than one way
To brighten up my day.

And in that quiet moment, even the grey sky learned to shine a little yellow.

Ivor Steven © August 2026

Learning to Fly (a Senryu)

A lone bird rising into the morning sky reminds us that every flight begins the same way — meeting the wind, opening our wings, and trusting the air to hold us.

Learning to Fly (a Senryu)

How to fly away
Face the wind and spread your wings
Leap and trust yourself

And sometimes, in the lift between fear and hope, we discover the wings we didn’t know we had.

Ivor Steven © August 2026

Throwback Friday, Burnt Toast And A Cold Shower

Some mornings test us in small, stubborn ways — cold water, burnt toast, lights that won’t flick on. This old poem from July 2018 reminds me that even on those days, we can reset, breathe, and begin again.

Burnt Toast And A Cold Shower

When it’s so hard to get out of my warm bed,
I force myself to throw the sheets off,
and I face another day again.

When the light doesn’t go on above my head,
I replace the globe and flick the switch,
and I see again

When my shower hot water turns cold,
I patiently wait for the boiler to reheat,
and I shall be ready again.

When the toaster burns my bread,
I turn the grey dial down to three,
and I restart again

When the kettle runs bone dry,
I dutifully refill the jug,
and enjoy a cuppa again.

When breakfast is done, and it’s time to run,
I feel the advantage of being alive,
and I smile at my world again.

And sometimes a song is all it takes to steady the morning 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.

Ivor Steven © July 2026

Distant Stars — A Poem for Gina

Last evening’s twilight brought two distant birds gliding across the sky — a quiet moment I thought little of at the time. But this morning, Gina’s birthday bundle arrived from Kuala Lumpur, carrying its own warmth across the miles. Suddenly those birds felt like a gentle reflection of our long friendship: separated by distance, yet always moving within the same sky. From that pairing of twilight wings and Gina’s thoughtful bundle, this three‑couplet poem emerged — three small waves of acknowledgement, connection, and renewal.

Gina’s response: “This is a very special poem — yes, please post it; too beautiful to be kept hidden. Love the second stanza about the stars.” — Gina

Distant Stars — A Poem for Gina

Long grey clouds may separate our friendship,
but distance is not part of the script.

We endearingly continue to wave from afar,
like a constellation’s pair of outlying stars.

Luminously looking forward to our next meeting,
and tenderly renewing our curriculum vitae greetings

A fitting accompaniment — Angus & Julia Stone’s “Celestial Bodies,” a live performance with the same quiet, sky‑bound warmth that inspired this poem.

Ivor Steven © August 2026

Zadar Sunsets (a Tanka)

This Tanka began with a small moment of irony. While sheltering from the cold and waiting for the weather to clear, I spotted a piece of street art near the café — the words “Sunsets in Zadar” painted across a brick wall. I noticed straight away that it carried a perfect five‑syllable rhythm, an ideal opening line for a Haiku or Tanka. From that simple spark, the poem grew into a quiet reflection spoken from the sun itself, reaching across horizons with its global glow.

Zadar Sunsets (a Tanka)

Sunsets in Zadar
I’m nowhere near Croatia
But here within view
Above your hill’s horizon
My global glow finds your land

A final touch of light to end the moment — a sunset song to accompany the sun’s own words, drifting across horizons just as the poem does.

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.”

Beyond Reach (a Haiku)

The morning sky felt like an open canvas, and the birds rose into it as if painted there — framed by light, archived in motion, and forever just beyond our human reach.

Beyond Reach (a Haiku)

Shadows on the sky
Bird silhouettes hover high
Beyond human reach

A quiet echo of the sky’s fragile beauty

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.