Life – Ivor.Plumber/Poet

Throwback Friday, The Universe Beyond My Wardrobe’s Doors

This poem was penned in May 2024 and quietly tucked away. Rediscovering it today felt like stepping back into the room where it began, so I’ve gently revised it for my Throwback Friday reflection.

The Universe Beyond My Wardrobe’s Doors (Revised)

I live in a small, compact villa.
My abode is comfortable and cozy.
The bedroom doubles up
as my writer’s studio and library.

The wardrobe’s doors are near the end of my bed.
On the doors, I hang a calendar
and a special photo of me and Carole
taken for our 25th anniversary

I gaze at the calendar and ponder.
The appointments are in black,
important dates are marked in red,
and my poetry events are scribbled in blue.

The calendar has many blank squares —
the days I spend writing.
I write to her about love and coping.
I write for myself, about life and nature.

I write for everyone who reads my poems.
I write my thoughts about humanity’s existence
within the universe and the great beyond.
I write words, “Until Eyes Hear Sound.”

As the room opens into the universe once more, here’s a song to travel with — much like Melanie’s lovely old “Look What They’ve Done to My Song, Ma,” carrying my memories back into the light.

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 © June 2026

Shangri La, Volume 20, Life’s Missing Teacher

FREE PDF COPY >>> Links Below

Hello, dear readers and followers. As you may know, I stopped producing my “Tullawalla Booklets” at #31 because that was the house number of our family’s Tullawalla Homestead.
Yet the booklet format is a superb way for me to catalogue the vast number of poems I produce, and as the saying goes, “I Am Turning Another Page”. Here I have begun a new series of poem booklets, called “Shangri La”, the name of my little Villa, and it is my piece of “earthly paradise, a retreat from the pressures of modern civilization”.
I now have “2354” poems gathered across these booklets
(On my bookshelf, sits “The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson, with 1775 poems — when I first began writing, I never imagined I would one day surpass that number.)

“Like all my booklets, this one is here to be read at your leisure — no rush, no expectation, just an open page waiting when you are.”

Click >> Here, for the link to your FREE: PDF Copy of “Shangri La, Volume 20, Life’s Missing Teacher.”

OR … Shangri La, Volume 20, Life’s Missing Teacher.pdf

Life’s Missing Teacher

I never found a teacher,
who taught me how to grieve.

The unforeseen creature
was difficult to perceive.

After unplugging her extension cord,
time was always near.

While wandering toward
the edge of life’s weathered pier.

In the spaces grief never taught me to navigate, Cohen’s song becomes a guide.

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 © June 2026

Stamped and Dispatched

Gigi, wrote these words

“all of those things
divide us
separate us
they are labels
and we are not merchandise”

Below, is my poetic reply

Gigi >> This is what is done to all of us… | Rethinking Life

Stamped and Dispatched

once upon a time
a poet without rhyme
looked up from the waiting line —
the sky whispered its warning:
you were never meant to wear a label,
nor born to be one‑of‑a‑kind

Ivor Steven © May 2026

Throwback Friday, Where’s That Dream (a Redux from last year)

Today’s Throwback poem was written before I started my website and is from June 2012, not long after Carole passed away (14 years ago, May 3rd). For reasons I can’t quite explain, this nostalgic piece never found its way into any of my three books. Maybe this unheralded poem will finally nudge me toward completing my fourth.

Where’s That Dream

I have seen the universe through to the stars beyond
There is a deep darkness; she is gone. She is gone
I saw her smile crack from the pain
There was a sorrow, she caught it tomorrow

I have seen the moon through the burning sun
Where is that planet she is walking on?
I saw her eyes crying tears of sand
Where is that beach she is lying on?

I have seen the ocean through the broken coral
Where is that ship she is sailing on?
I saw her body serene and frail
Where are the ashes she is covered in?

I have seen the earth open, swallowing the multitude whole
Where is that chasm she is falling through?
I saw her gentle soul disappear out of sight
Where is that secret haven she is flying to?

I have seen the land go through violent storms
Where are the winds of time she is spread upon?
I saw her heart, her love, for all of you and me
Where is that dream she has left us to find?

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

Throwback Friday, A Torn Thesaurus

Today’s Throwback Friday poem (originally written in July 2022) is drawn from my third book, Until Eyes Hear Sound. It appears in Chapter 5: Observation, Until Eyes Hear Sound.

A Torn Thesaurus

With my fiddle and riddles
Here in the middle
Of this unopened universe
Time spirals in reverse

Quills fly in from cyberspace
As alien words unravel and interlace
A torn thesaurus is my database
I wonder
Have I landed in the right place?

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 © April 2026

I’m Not Here

At our Dome group meeting, Jen — our chairperson — said, “I’m not here next meeting, so we need to choose a theme for next month.” A few of us laughed, and someone replied, “Well, I’m Not Here sounds like a theme in itself.” And just like that, the idea settled over us, light as a wink.

The Geelong Library and Heritage Centre … affectionately known as The Dome.

And for Sadje’s, What do you see # 337- 20 April, 2026, I chose her first prompt image >> What do you see # 337- 20 April, 2026 – Keep it alive

This image shows someone holding three cups and the cups are made in the image of a woman’s face. The expression on the three cups are slightly different from each other.

I’m Not Here

I’m not here — I’m in limbo,
behind a solitary glass window,
there on the north side of the Dome;
it stands out like a fairy’s magical home.

I’m not here, but I am somewhere
high above the Gingko in the fresh air,
where I hear the fairy Godmother’s vacant chair
whisper haunting poetic quotes by Voltaire.

“‎Life is a shipwreck, but we must not forget
to sing in the lifeboats.” ~ Voltaire
“The right to free speech is more important
than the content of the speech.” ~ Voltaire
“Many are destined to reason wrongly;
others, not to reason at all; and others,
to persecute those who do reason.” ~ Voltaire

And still, from that quiet window in the Dome,
I’m not here — yet somehow feeling at home.

Somewhere between presence and absence, the music carries what words can’t quite hold.

Throwback Friday, Under the Snow (a Revisit)

A special poem I wrote, after I’d taken my Lady to the hospital for the last time, on the day of her 65th birthday, fourteen years ago.

Hello Carole, time goes by, and my heart has not moved …

Under The Snow

We emanate to a birthday.
We deflate to a final day.
Birthdays, they all come, they all go.
Birthdays, in the sunshine, under the snow.
Birthdays, slow to mature, quickly an eon.
Birthdays, before we are born, after we are gone.
Birthdays, hanging on by a breath.
Birthdays, nailed to a cross ’til death.
What does it all mean to be alive and cry?
What does it all mean to live and to die?

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.

Time Hears No Sound, Cover Reveal (by Kerri Costello)

Time Hears No Sound, Cover Reveal (by Kerri Costello) Today, I’m delighted to reveal the front and back covers of Time Hears No Sound. There’s a quiet magic in these designs, and I hope you feel it too.

The artwork comes from my Philadelphia niece, Graphic Design Artist Kerri Costello, whose creative touch has shaped the covers of my last three books—Tullawalla, Perceptions, and Until Eyes Hear Sound.

The disintegrating clock at the centre of the cover reflects the book’s core idea: that time is less a mechanism than a mystery. The warm sky mirrored in the lake suggests memory’s calm surface, while the darker tones around the edges hint at the silences and shadows the poems explore. Together, the colours and imagery echo the journey of the collection—where time drifts, dissolves, and reveals what it cannot say aloud.

To accompany the cover reveal, here’s the Tanka that closes the collection:

Timeless (a Tanka)

Once upon a time
At the beginning of time
What was before time?
Where’s the origin of time?
Infinity is timeless

Handless Watchbands, or Who’s Counting

As the weekend’s protest thread continues, this poem looks at what we count — and what we choose not to.

VJ’s article on holding to a deeper “why” nudged me toward this poem — a poignant protest shaped by questions of time, land, and what we risk by looking away.
Her story is below—the spark behind this poem.
>> Having a Why – One Woman’s Quest

Also, over at Weekly Prompts, the Weekend Challenge is the word Invasive. To visit their fabulous site, please click >> Here

Handless Watchbands, or Who’s Counting

How many grains of sand
are left in the ancient hourglass?
Why are the Holy grasslands
a desert full of misguided missiles
and handless watch bands?

How many missiles
do the leaders in Versailles
have to count
before the amount
is called genocide?

For what we cannot look away from, let the song bear witness.

Silence as The Bombs Fall Down

This morning’s feather, and Matt Rai’s raw protest song, stirred the same truth in me — silence has its limits when the bombs fall down.

Silence as The Bombs Fall Down

Today I distil
My silent words
With an ancient quill
That’s never been a blunt sword,
Nor written in soft pastel.

The scribe’s feather is light,
But still heavy enough to fight
For what I believe is right.

Protest letters from a poetic knight
About humanity’s warring blight,
Which has quickly become the world’s
Blundering bombsight.