Music – Page 4 – Ivor.Plumber/Poet

Out of the Blue

From yesterday’s crow encounter, a poem emerged — a moment on the country’s edge, a sentinel shaping the sky’s peaceful realignment.

Out of the Blue

Upon the country’s outpost I stand,
a sentinel, overseeing this grand land.

I pause, breathe the whistling wind,
and unfurl my black feathered skin.

My wings flare out toward the light —
the world’s warring blight
is nowhere in sight.

Tranquility is my chosen line —
one sweep, the silent, sunlit sky is mine,
and out of the blue, nature’s shrine
peacefully realigns.

“A final breath of blue sky carrying the crow’s peaceful realignment into sound.”

Ivor Steven © September 2026

My Vision (a Senryu)

A quiet morning reply to Bart’s Fraiku, my worn lenses lifting me toward today’s blurry blue sky.
Bart >> Fraiku: For Your Eyes | Bartholomew Barker, Poet

My Vision (a Senryu)

In front of my eyes
Beyond dust-covered lenses
I pause to see more

And the vision carried on beyond the frame.

Ivor Steven © September 2026

Throwback Friday, Fallen Ancestors

Twelve months ago, while visiting my cousins on Vancouver Island, I tapped out a small poem on my iPhone — a moment shaped by cedar shadows, cold tides, and old family echoes. Today’s Throwback Friday returns to that quiet day, and to the fallen ancestors the island seemed to remember.

Fallen Ancestors

Above
I saw time drift across the sky.

Below
I heard a grey, waterlogged tree cry,
“Is this the graveyard where my
fallen ancestors have been left to die?”

There
“Against the sea wall’s merciless granite crown,
surrounded by cold water crashing around…

Please
“Take my hand, guide me down,
so I can cover them with my green nightgown.”

A quiet echo of the sea’s old memory — as the tide carries its stories forward, this song keeps a heart in the water.

Ivor Steven © September 2026

Cyril the Seagull

In the soft glow of a haloed sun, a seagull and his friends traced a tale across the sky — and one of them decided to share a little wisdom as he climbed into the light, shaping today’s poem.

Cyril the Seagull

Cyril is no ordinary seagull,
he’s neither plain nor dull.

I’ve been watching him and his friends,
soaring through the clouds’ sunny trends.

When he swooped in close enough,
I asked him off-the-cuff:

“Why are you considered to be
so commonly homespun?”
He puffed his wings like a bumblebee
and proudly flew off toward the sun.

Cyril whispered as he climbed:
Like humans, we also populate the world
However, I’m free to fly and enjoy
nature’s phoenix sky uncurled.

And as Cyril lifts into the light, this timeless song rises with him — a quiet reminder to simply be.

Ivor Steven © August 2026

Spring is Singing (a Tanka)

Spring arrived today with a quiet kind of joy — a bird lifting into the morning light, gulls gliding above the bay, and a flowering tree catching the sun just right. On my walk to the café, these small moments gathered around me, each one adding its own note to the season’s first song. By the time I sat down with my coffee, a Tanka had already begun to bloom — shaped by the warm promise of the new season.

Spring is Singing (a Tanka)

Daylight’s kissing earth,
Its warm glow hugs everything,
And the midday sun
Thaws my once‑wavering wings —
Now nature’s choir is singing

As spring begins to rise, a tender melody of warmth and light to accompany the season’s first song.

Ivor Steven © September 2026

Coffee House Writers Magazine features my new poem, “Spring Will Never Vanish”

“To frozen clods even spring’s invisible law returns with grass and flowers and summer fruits and corn” … Walt Whitman

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, “Spring Will Never Vanish (a Villanelle),” appears in the new issue. You can read it by following the link below.
>> Spring Will Never Vanish – Coffee House Writers

As Whitman knew and this villanelle remembers, spring’s law always returns — and Tom Waits sings it home.

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 © September 2026

There Are No ‘Cents’ in Pretense

Just before midnight, I wandered through Nancy’s whimsical corner of The Elephant’s Trunk, where her poetic mischief nudged me over the fence of common sense. In that soft hour, a playful spark took hold — and this anecdotal poem tumbled out as my midnight excuse.
For Nancy >> Poet’s Excuse – The Elephant’s Trunk

And because midnight rarely behaves itself, here’s Nick Cave’s “Night Raid” slipping in with its dark velvet mood before the poem leaps the fence again.

There Are No ‘Cents’ in Pretense

None of it needs to make sense
no matter present tense
or past tense

Your quill has a license
to leap the pretense fence —
forget about common sense

And write delicious nonsense
in future tense
with imaginative effulgence

And to round out this midnight ramble, here’s the song I shared with Nancy — Leonard Cohen’s wonderfully unusual “Ballad of the Absent Mare,” a wandering little masterpiece that trots alongside any poet willing to leap the fence of pretense.

Steve the Snail’s Twisted Trail

Morning wanderings often gift me small mysteries — a snail tracing Olympic rings across the cold pavement, a chalk‑scribbled “One Day” left by some early riser, and the quiet frost that makes creatures reconsider their usual routes. Today, Steve the Snail seemed to have a message for me… and perhaps for anyone feeling a little twisted by winter’s chill.

Over at Weekly Prompts, it’s the final weekend of August, and it’s time for the One Day Prompt. Please visit their fabulous site by clicking on >> Here

Steve the Snail’s Twisted Trail

I’m wondering if Steve the Snail is lost,
discombobulated by the morning frost

He usually leaves a straight-lined trail
from the rose garden to the window rail

But today his trail looked like Olympic rings —
perhaps a note left by his frozen shoestrings.

A gentle, pressing reminder letter:
“Hey Ivor … where’s my new winter sweater?”

For this frosty morning’s whimsical trail, I’ve paired Steve’s looping, Olympic‑ring wanderings with Nive Nielsen’s ethereal “Are You Ready” — a song that drifts like cold breath and whispers back at the paths we leave behind.

Tracing the Lines

The late afternoon moon feels like a quiet reminder — tracing its path above while we trace our own below. In its soft light, every line in our hands and every mark on the land carries a story of where we’ve been and where we’re going. This poem rests in that moment of reflection.

Tracing the Lines

There you are,
all of you,
way out there,
full and aware –
tracing the lines
in my hands.

And there are
no new brands
on the land;
every grain of sand
still understands.

There’s a crack
in everything –
in all of you
out there,
feeling open and bare –

“I see you,”
whispers the moon,
tracing the lines
beneath my full glare.

A recently released piece, carrying the same gentle pull of the moon’s slow journey across the sky

Cohen Noir: Celebrating the Music, Words & Legacy of Leonard Cohen

Cohen Noir: Celebrating the Music, Words & Legacy of Leonard Cohen

There’s a quiet thrill in the air today — Maree and I have just secured our tickets to Cohen Noir: Celebrating the Music, Words & Legacy of Leonard Cohen, live at the Melbourne Recital Centre on Saturday, 26th September.

It’s only four weeks away, but the mood is already settling in: that velvet‑dark Cohen atmosphere, the poetry, the ache, the humour, the songs that have followed us through decades. To step into a hall shaped for his voice — even through the hands of others — feels like a gift waiting patiently on the horizon.

A wonderful night ahead… and I’m looking forward to sharing the experience with you all.

And as we count down the four short weeks to Cohen Noir, I keep returning to the night we saw Leonard himself in Melbourne back in 2009 — a concert that still hums in the heart. To set the mood, here’s his wonderfully cheeky and soulful Tower of Song, live from London in 2008.