Today, we gave ourselves a ‘Test Flight’ to the Cafe to see if my wings had recovered, and pleasingly, we navigated the outing without any major incidents.
Today’s Test Flight
Flying solo above the trees
Fluttering through the Bon Voyage clouds
Zipping over the nearby You Yangs
Out into the Southern Aurora sky
Then, across the world’s deepest ocean
Toward my dream’s mystical horizon
This is how my poem looks on my Instagram Site (ivors20)
Ivor Steven (c) August 2025
A Welcome Swallow in flight
This morning on my walkie with Frankie, I was lucky enough to photograph a ‘Welcome Swallow’ in flight. So, appropriately, today’s Throwback Friday poem is “Birds in Flight”, written in February 2023. The poem also appears in my book, ‘Until Eyes Hear Sound’ (Chapter 1, page 14)
Birds in Flight
Our spirit birds sleep all night
Then emanate at first light
To resume their dedicated flights
Our watchtower sentinels of Mother Earth
Who sacredly ascend at first light
Forever in flight, since nature’s worldly birth
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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
Ivor Steven © August 2025
Beyond Today’s Sunset
Thank you for giving me shelter
But the time is approaching
When I must prepare
To leave this restful nest
The world’s northern sky awaits
With its sunsets’ beckoning horizon
Ivor Steven (c) August 2025
After the Fall
After falling through the fragmented cloud,
the rusty and weary traveller
appeared to be disoriented,
without his familiar protective shroud.
Escaping his country has been hazardous,
and he longs for a restful shelter.
However, until the stampede’s contaminated dust
is devoured by its own mistrust-
then, and only then,
will the Almighty Sun
incinerate the lingering clouds
and allow the world’s war-torn sky
to redeem his sacred ground.
Today’s poem is one of my verses, composed of comments/anecdotes I posted on some of my fellow WordPress writers’ articles during the month. In stanza order, they are.
1 – Nancy, Order Of The Snake – The Elephant’s Trunk
2 – Beth, expression. | I didn’t have my glasses on….
3 – Bart, Monday Poetry Prompt: Under the Cushions | Living Poetry
4 – Violet, Untouched by Regret | Thru Violet’s Lentz
5 – Ivor, A response to Nancy’s comment, https://ivorplumberpoet.press/2025/08/14/surprise-surprise-a-tanka/
6 – David, Breaking hours, or: Yet it flows – The Skeptic’s Kaddish 🇮🇱
A Malay Kris and a Cracked Brick Wall
I’ll twist and dismiss
your kiss and hiss.
Then, with my Malay kris,
I’ll swish you up like this.
Little cracks
and threads of black
are nature’s imperfections-
waiting for filaments of imagination.
Under my luxurious woollen cushion
lies an old copy of The Australian Bulletin.
Also, from Great-grand-dad’s mystical Galleon,
there’s a hand-woven chiffon for his Spanish woman.
Regrets are like silhouettes-
they linger above your shoulders
like worn-out epaulettes
and burnt-out candle holders,
as shadowy images after sunset.
Line after line,
Time clutters my mind.
Will I be fine in time?
The sands of time
will forever fall through the hourglass,
and the shadows of time
always moves across the sundial.
Gravity continues to wear us down
and sunlight will always crack our mounds.
Ivor Steven (c) August 2025
I’ve only 12 days to go until I fly over to Canada. I’m on antibiotics and have been ordered to rest. Therefore, my blogging commitments will be minimal for the next 7days.
Feeling Stumped, But Not Grumpy
I have a badly inflamed throat
That feels like I’m swallowing
Broken needles and razor blades.
(Please don’t make me laugh.)
And I have an awful chest cough
That rattles and clangs
Like a grumpy polar bear in chains
On my rusty iron roof.
I’m physically lumpy and stumped,
But even though my body is trumped,
My mind is enthusiastic and pumped–
Ready for my flight to be happily humped
Ivor Steven (c) August 2025
Today’s Throwback Friday was written in April 2019, which was just before my trip to New York and Philadelphia. I have suitably revised my poem to coincide with my trip to Canada in “12” days.
Beyond a Blade Of Grass (Revised)
Believe it or not
I’m travelling around the block
Finally, I’ve refurbished my Itmims Yacht
And I’m about to discover a different spot
Reality has me flying to a new port
I’ve been invited to walk the walk
And talk about my amazing life
The long journey of endless strife
And how, the answer was found
From inside a body unsound
Go listen to the Messiah
You’ll not get any higher
Go reach for your stars
Dream of landing on Mars
Go steer a new T-model car
Even Victoria isn’t too far
Go find your favourite bike
Pedal your way to greater heights
Go explore, beyond your blade of grass
See the universe outside your heart of glass
Ivor Steven (c) August 2025
Surprise, Surprise (a Tanka)
The bird’s silhouettes
Produce very clear photos
In the foggy light
An unexpected result
For this poet/photographer
Ivor Steven (c) August 2025
Hello, dear readers and followers. I write for Coffee House Writers magazine (USA) fortnightly, and my poem “Nature’s Ponds” is in this week’s edition.
To read the poem, please click the link below to visit my Coffee House Writers Magazine article.
>> https://coffeehousewriters.com/natures-ponds/
.
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
Ivor Steven © August 2025
Over at Weekly Prompts, the Weekend Challenge is the word Circumspection.
To visit their fabulous site, please click HERE
Away With the Faeries
Walking in a dreamy haze,
Inside a bubble of days.
Yet hearing a silent morning chant,
From the intrigued missionary ant.
Talking to an unreadable cloud,
Ignoring the bewildered crowd.
Yet the sky is a warm winter blue,
And toes are sipping yesterday’s stew.
Meandering and wondering-
Then wandering toward today’s horizon.
A hessian bag of forests and mountains,
A stone’s throw away from tomorrow’s fountain.
An ocean beyond magpies and wallabies,
In a land of bearberries and faeries.
Ivor Steven (c) August 2025
Ivor.Plumber/Poet 