Ivor.Plumber/Poet

Throwback Friday, Raining Oceans of Tears (Revised)

Today’s Throwback Friday arrives wrapped in rain. Frankie and I stepped out into a cold, wet Geelong evening, and the sky was heavy, brooding, ready to break. It seemed the right moment to revisit a poem from June 2021 — a piece written during another season of quiet storms and overflowing emotion.

Raining Oceans of Tears (Revised)

They can send a machine to Mars,
but cannot repair a blade of grass
in nature’s backyard.

And billions of tears spill into the oceans,
creating a soft-surging swell of love
gradually rolling in from a blue horizon.
Is this the beginning
of the next great flood from above?

The words that are left unsaid
cannot be misread

Without being misread — sometimes the only answer is to let the rain keep falling.

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

The Sky Catcher

A quiet morning sky, brushed with soft colour and held in the silhouettes of reaching trees. A few drifting lines followed me home from my walk, settling into a poem shaped by that calm, glassy light.

The Sky Catcher

The blue-stone sky
is not about to cry,
nor do I hear the wind sigh.

Nature’s clouds tell no lie.
High,
above the planet’s bonsai,
I see the sun’s glassy eye
solemnly decry
time neither says hi
nor goodbye.

A morning sky caught in stillness, and a song that drifts softly in its wake.

Ivor Steven © July 2026

Resting (Revised, with lines from Robert Okaji’s book, “From Every Moment A Second”)

Resting was originally written in July 2024, and the photos that follow are little scenes from my world — the moments that helped me understand what resting truly means.

For this month’s Dome Poets assignment, we were each handed a Robert Okaji chapbook to spark a new poem. Mine was From Every Moment A Second, a book of luminous fragments that has long kept me company on the shelf.
To visit Robert’s wonderful poetry site, click on this link
>> O at the Edges | Musings on poetry, language, perception, numbers, food, and anything else that slips through the cracks.

Resting (Revised, with lines from Robert Okaji’s book, “From Every Moment A Second”)

Stanza Map
1 — Robert’s Take Away, p.3
2 — Ivor’s Resting
3 — Robert’s Bottom Falling, p.5
4 — Ivor’s Resting (with Okaji’s line)
5 — Robert’s Privilege, p.13
6 — Ivor’s Resting
7 — Robert’s Flame, p.15

Take away the blackness,
what does night become?

Why rest?
Dawn is here again,
another new day
for my persistent pen.

Through the window
I see another bird
rising, unlabelled, unwanted, yet noticed.

Why Rest?
From every moment,
a second emerges.**
Time has no opponent.

Every hour becomes another.
Surrendering minutes, accepting
gain, which gravities restrain us?
But we open the door
and step out, unhindered.

Why rest?
The Age of Aquarius
has been and gone
and the end of beyond
is no longer precarious.

Drifting, she passes through the frame.
Reshapes borders, edges.
Picture a man lighting a candle
where a home once stood.

To close, here’s a song that carries the same quiet breath as the poem — a final touch of calm before you wander on.

Ivor Steven © July 2026

Coffee House Writers Magazine features my new poem, “Uluru, Kakadu, Kathmandu, and Xanadu”

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, “Uluru, Kakadu, Kathmandu, and Xanadu,” appears in the new issue. You can read it by following the link below.
>> Uluru, Kakadu, Kathmandu, and Xanadu – Coffee House Writers

The journey begins — a lone bird rising through the misty avenue.

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

Brighter Than White (a Tanka)

Above the treeline, the day began with wings drifting toward the light.

Brighter Than White (a Tanka)

Quickly, follow me
Through the silhouetted clouds
I hear the wise crow
Has found a hole in the sky
Where the light’s brighter than white

The sky keeps its openings, and somewhere beyond the clouds, the light still waits, brighter than white.

Ivor Steven © July 2026

Goodnight, But Not Goodbye

Twilight lifts its veil, a little pothole in the sky beginning to glow — and below it, this old July Birthday magpie rises, still not done with the day, or the many more days waiting beyond the horizon.

Goodnight, But Not Goodbye

The twilight clouds are alight,
Mother Nature’s waving goodnight.

Levitating above the linen horizon’s misty eye,
I see my pothole flickering in the sky.

But I know daytime is still my ally,
and this old July magpie
isn’t done yet — so loosen your black ties.

I’m cruising around on standby,
and my celestial star will send me a lullaby
when the moment is right to say goodbye.

And as the magpie rises — somehow above it all, that little pothole in the sky keeps glowing.

When I Am Old

A small conversation with age itself — seventy‑five years in my bones now, and Frankie turning ten beside me, both of us learning how to age with a bit of grace and a bit of mischief, reminding us that growing old is just another way of staying present.

When I Am Old

If,
I was young
back in nineteen-sixty-one –
no,
when I am young again,
without these strokes of pain
down the other side of my brain

I will remember
that day in November
when Mum said,
(with a cheeky grin),
“Never marry a redhead.”
Then Dad (who was a redhead)
smiled and wisely told me
“There’s always more fish in the sea,
but be careful what you wish for
beyond your front door.”

As I became a young man,
I asked for a redhead’s hand.
Alas, beyond the garden’s flowers,
life is both sweet and sour.

Thereupon, my dear parents
elected to be our loving warrants
and held our hands
above
life’s deepening quicksand.

A piece of music for the quieter hours — for the moments when age speaks softly and reminds us how to stay present.

Throwback Friday, My Song Plays Through the Night

A bird doing somersaults in the afternoon sky is enough to set my thoughts spinning, too — though that might have something to do with my 75th birthday sneaking up on Monday. So for this Throwback Friday, I’ve dusted off and revised a poem from July 2019, a little night‑music piece full of twists, turns, and rolling dreams. Today’s bird photos feel like they’re joining in, tumbling through the page with me.

My Song Plays Through the Night (Revised)

I twist and roll over.
A musical world whirls inside my head;
my somersault of dreams
rotates under my mattress.
Upside down,
rhythmical tiredness
falls out of the seams.
Words tumble around —
nameless titles
and endless tunes abound.

A bad moon’s returning,
singing the blues over my empty town.
I twist and roll over again;
I’m back where I started.
I hear my angel humming Hallelujah —
you’re another year older.

Let my angel’s humming of Hallelujah carry us into another year.

Creative Geelong Market Day, This Saturday, July 18th

It’s Market Day this Saturday from 10 a.m. to 3 p.m.
* Our popular monthly markets are all undercover at Centrepoint Arcade on the third Saturday of every month.
* They feature art, unique goods from local makers, second-hand goods, plants, books, and more.
* There are also open art studios, Yesterday Vintage, Untether Gallery, and the May’d Shop.

All at, Centrepoint Arcade
132 Little Malop St, Geelong
From 10 am to 3 pm

And I’ll be there with ‘Frankie’ and my “New Bookstall Set-up“

Time Unlocks Closed Doors

“When doors close, and wars roar, let peace be the key we choose to turn.”

This piece gathers four small reflections I shared on my fellow writers’ posts.
In stanza order, they are:
Nancy: Extraordinary Lies – The Elephant’s Trunk
Sara: Levels of Water | purplepeninportland
Nancy: Gilded Quiet – The Elephant’s Trunk
David: While my key still turns, or: Old lock – The Skeptic’s Kaddish

Time Unlocks Closed Doors

Behind every resurfacing lie
there is a buried piece of truth

Life’s ebb tides
and rising waters
have no lateral sides

The ways of the rich
make life a bitch.
We’re better off
not being so aloft

If the key is not in the lock
You’ll find it under the welcome mat

A song for those moments when closed doors feel heavy — Renee’s voice reminds us that time still finds a way through.