Life & Nature – Ivor.Plumber/Poet

Throwback Friday, Bird on a Ladder

In keeping with this week’s ‘Bird’ theme, today’s Throwback Friday poem (originally written in May 2023) is drawn from my third book, Until Eyes Hear Sound. It appears as a poem in Chapter 1: Little Creatures and the Birds

Bird on a Ladder

I am a blackbird on a circus ladder
Singing about how the world is feeling sadder
Or should I sing, “becoming madder”

Here on the last rung, I stand
Below, I see a treeless land
Above, I hear a breathless sky
After the show, I untangle my necktie
And I ask you why
“Does it matter, when I leap, what route do I fly?”

“Let the music spin the world’s madness into something we can still sing about

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 © May 2026

Dependable

In the hush between treetops, sky, and the distant sun, small moments of flight remind us how quietly the world keeps holding on

Dependable

From the resilient treetops,
the curious crows know
the honourable sun never stops —
rain, sleet, or snow.

Warming our souls
from light-years away,
yet far outreaching
our ordinary day.

And beyond the crows’
resourceful thinking,
where the sky’s mystical banjos
are perpetually playing

And somewhere beneath all this light and shadow, we keep finding the strength to rise again.

Ivor Steven © May 2026

My Bird Photos (a Haiku)

Walking home in the late afternoon beneath a low blanket of cloud, I found the light dull and the sky muted. Even so, I managed to capture these birds in flight. The dim conditions left my original photos a little blurry, but with the help of my Copilot app, I was able to gently sharpen them and bring their motion back to life.

My Bird Photos (a Haiku)

Birds do not need words
Artistically superb
They’re the sky’s Rembrandts

“A song to drift with, wings open to the sky — an echo of freedom to follow the final image

Ivor Steven © May 2026

Coffee House Writers Magazine features my new poem, “I’m Quietly Flying Around.”

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, “I’m Quietly Flying Around,” appears in the new issue. You can read it by following the link below.
>> I’m Quietly Flying Around – Coffee House Writers

There’s a peacefulness in flying alone for a while, until the friendly and noisy Corellas swoop in to remind me I’m never truly by myself up there.

A small song to keep me company while I’m quietly flying around.

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 © May 2026

A Mid-Morning Fling

Today, a casual stroll on the path turned into an unexpected glimpse of tenderness, and all we can do is slow our steps and witness the quiet life unfolding at our feet

A Mid-Morning Fling

It was odd to see larks
Lying on the concrete path.
At first, I thought
One of them was injured.

Then, as I approached
For a closer gander,
The grounded bird
Was not wounded at all,
But pleasantly enjoying
Her partner’s advances.

And as I edged nearer,
My unexpected presence
Did disrupt their
Mid-morning fling.

A gentle reminder that even the smallest moments can shift the rhythm of a day — just as a song can shift the rhythm of a heart

Ivor Steven © May 2026

How and Why

In the hush of a grey autumn morning, two birds wheel away into the distance, leaving behind a question only the sky can answer.

How and Why

Two silhouettes fluttering in the sky,
Together, the shadows swoop by.
Flying among Autumn’s silent clouds,
There above Humanity’s rowdy crowd.

They gaze down and wonder how
That lawless mob did somehow allow
Nature’s garden to become holier-than-thou.

The birds quietly turn and wave goodbye
And decide: theirs not to reason why.

As the birds wheel away from the how and why, step with the music into the space where the poem’s questions still linger.

Here are a few lyrics from “We Lost The Sea – A Quiet Place.”

“Abandon control, obey gravity
From here, earth’s claw cannot over bare

I hear nothing, dead silence
I grasp as comfort
I pilot limbs as if they were wings
Carve through the clouds
Plummet to the below
I pilot limbs”

Ivor Steven © May 2026

Throwback Friday, Polar Bears and Cold Sheep

In keeping with this week’s ‘Environment’ theme, today’s Throwback Friday poem (originally written in July 2020) is drawn from my upcoming book, Time Hears No Sound. It appears as a poem in Chapter 2, Nature: An Unbiased Timekeeper

Polar Bears and Cold Sheep

hello world, do you see my frown?
will the blizzards ever calm down?
will the rains forever fall on broken ground?
will our tears of silence be the only sound?

the frozen wounds are deep
the mountains of snow are steep
humans need to stop being cold sheep
and begin taking their own individual leaps

the rewards of being caring and kind
far outweigh the coldness of being left behind

For the wounds we’ve carved into the earth, may this music echo the quiet truth our planet keeps trying to tell us.

Our Buckled Bloc

On our buckled bloc, innocence stands alone on thinning ground.

Our Buckled Bloc

Have we lost the plot?
Here, on our buckled bloc.

The planet is still spinning,
but the environment is shrinking.

The polar bears are dying;
isolated, Nature is only surviving
and is visibly crying.

The land is scarred and blistered,
the oceans unwisely polluted,
and even the air we breathe is tainted.

Here’s a song to wander with through the world we’ve weathered.

Wattlebirds Are No Log-jammers

After wrestling with the usual tangle of messages and mischief‑makers, I stepped onto the track for a breath of real air. The wattlebirds were already there, perched and unbothered, reminding me that the sky has no time for scammers or phishers — and neither should I.

Wattlebirds Are No Log-jammers

After wading through my pool of emails,
the clean-up I had planned did fail.
Anyhow, it was time for my morning walk
among nature’s wattlebirds and hawks.
Despite the cool, misty rain
The refreshing breeze will clear my foggy brain

Not far along the wet, winding track,
I see a wattlebird having a peaceful nap,
perched high up in the tree’s branches,
oblivious to humanity’s modern advances.

Beautiful wattlebirds are not log-jammers,
river phishers, or honey scammers
They are free to do as they please
and can fly away from any tight squeeze.

A small reminder that the sky is always wider than the noise.

Beyond the Pink Horizon

In the hush of twilight, a pink glow threaded the treeline — a hint of the hidden realm where fairies hover above the causeway, chorusing something tender and otherworldly

Beyond the Pink Horizon

Deep behind the trees’ silhouettes
and beyond the horizon’s pink curtain,
in that ambiguous twilight zone
there lies an earthly paradise —
a glimmering crimson kingdom
where our magical, luminous fairies hide.

And I wonder: where is the missing archway
into this purple-haze never never land,
or is it simply reality’s mysterious causeway
calling me through the transient light.

Through the transient glow, the fairies’ lullaby drifts across the horizon.