Poetry/Australia – Ivor.Plumber/Poet

A Flash in the Pan

Postcards and Poetry at the Old Courthouse Museum, Drysdale

There was a lovely hum in the air last Sunday — the kind that only gathers when people arrive ready to listen, ready to be moved. The little courthouse filled quickly, every seat taken, every face turned toward the poets and the artifacts that inspired them.

During the breaks, harpist Nin drifted gentle notes through the old timber room, her music settling over us like sunlight through stained glass.

And then came the readings.

Postcards and Poetry at the Old Courthouse Museum, Drysdale.

The very appreciative audience filled the little courthouse.

During the breaks, we were entertained by harpist, Nin.

There I was — Ivor in the witness box — sharing my two poems, “Drumsticks” and “Dear, Danny,” written especially for the museum’s stories and shadows. (They’re attached below for anyone who’d like to read them.)

And as the afternoon’s echoes fade, let the music rest where the poems left off — quiet, steady, and full of heart.

Ivor Steven © June 2026

No Connection, or Seven Rhyming Couplets

Still offline, still smiling. While the internet takes its sweet time returning, I’ve tapped out a whimsical little poem on my tiny iPhone screen — a lighthearted look at my ongoing battle with the great digital void. Hope it brings a grin.

And fittingly, as this article goes live, I’m pleased to announce that my internet connection has finally returned.

No Connection, or Seven Rhyming Couplets

I’m in isolation;
I have no internet connection.

Now falling beyond day five,
without my writer’s bee hive.

ISP could not solve the problem –
oh, what a sad conundrum

There’s a frog and toad
on the outside pole’s naughty node.

Linesmen, trucks, and ladders are required;
I’m frustrated, tired, and uninspired.

Might be fixed in another 48 hours …
plenty of time to pluck more moonflowers.

Now climbing into day seven,
I’m sailing up the internet’s stairway to heaven.

And now, with the moon back in view and the wires behaving, here’s the song that carried me through.

Ivor Steven © June 2026

Coffee House Writers Magazine features my new poem, “Living in the Shade.”

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, “Living in the Shade,” appears in the new issue. You can read it by following the link below.

>> https://coffeehousewriters.com/living-in-the-shade/

This week’s piece was shaped quietly at my café table, with late‑day light drifting across the floor and Portugal. The Man’s live performance of “Shade” echoing through my headphones — a fitting companion for a poem about those left waiting in the dimmer corners of our world.

Let this song cast its own soft light across the shadows we carry.

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

Two Heavenly Lights

“In this place of darkness and malediction we can but stand in awe and remember its stateless, faceless and nameless victims. Close your eyes and look: endless nocturnal processions are converging here, and here it is always night. Here heaven and earth are on fire.” — Elie Wiesel

A reminder that even in a world shadowed by sorrow, the night still offers its quieter lights — small, celestial gestures that help us keep looking up.

Two Heavenly Lights

I’m a sucker for a crescent moon,
and there below his silver spoon

on this cloudy wintry night
I espied another bright light —

a vision unexpectedly imbued,
sidling toward the glowing moon.

Venus, elegantly blushing with attractiveness,
and the moon beaming with handsomeness —

two twinkling heavenly lights
coyly conversing through the veil of night.

Ivor Steven © June 2026

Throwback Friday, Eating Chocolates and Watching Wars

Chocolates are delightfully delicious … wars are deadly and destructive …
Above the valley, a white-feathered messenger rises — reminding us how fragile peace can be

Yesterday we visited the Moorabool Valley Chocolate Café for coffee and cake, and the moment brought this poem back to me — a piece I wrote in August 2018, when a simple liquor chocolate stirred memories, questions, and the ache of a world still at war.

Eating Chocolates And Watching Wars (Revised)

Hungrily, I’m eating a liquor chocolate —
a selfish heavenly delight,
arousing my old mind’s senses.

I wonder
what she would be thinking,
looking down from the stars
through her sensitive olive eyes —
her everlasting smile,
her gracious courage,
her generous heart,
her forgiving soul,
her love for me and you.

I wonder
what she would be thinking,
seeing these futile, bloody wars
through her compassionate olive eyes —
the dead and maimed,
the millions of shuffling homeless,
the distraught, broken families,
the crying children locked in sheds,
the desperate refugees with no beds.

I wonder
what she would be thinking
while she preciously
holds the last white dove,
observing these senseless wars
that never ever ends.

And for the song that holds the cracks and the light, here is Leonard Cohen’s Anthem — offered to a world where the last white dove may never fly free again.

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

A Magic Mushroom Party

A moonlit whisper drifts across the strawberry field, where the night’s small wonders gather for their secret celebration.

A Magical Mushroom Party

Did you hear — on the grapevine
about the magic mushroom party?
The local fungi
have peacefully impregnated
the neighbourhood strawberry field
and all moonlit buttons are welcome.
Grab an umbrella and your gumboots,
bring your own spores and a watering can.

…join the cheery clan,
there’s plenty of toadstools,
and the soirée’s fairy rings
of our magical and mysterious land
have conjured up the old Beatles band.

And as the fairy rings keep peacefully humming, the old songs rise again beneath the glowing caps of night.

Words Fall Through the Window

This poem grew from three small conversations across the WordPress community — first with David, then with Nancy, and then with David once more. Each reply carried its own quiet image, and when I gathered them together, they seemed to form a single drift of thought, as if the words had slipped through the same window and landed in one place.
In stanza order, they are.
1. David: Sketches, poems, scraps, or: Dreams – The Skeptic’s Kaddish
2. Nancy: Unread Message – The Elephant’s Trunk
3. David: Intellectual or Public introspectual – The Skeptic’s Kaddish

Between light and shadow, these moments gather — small echoes leading toward the words that follow.

Written in response to Sadje’s ‘What Do You See? #345’ prompt
>> What do you see # 345- 15, June- 2026 – Keep it alive

A quiet moment at the window that opened into the poem below

Words Fall Through the Window

Looking through a window
Searching for tomorrow
There is only an afterglow
As life lingers in limbo

Petals softly fall
Knowing the sound of silence
“Do not wait for me”

Sailing alone in my rescue craft
I sense a spirited updraught
rising through the stairwell’s shaft

Where the view softens, and the silence deepens, somewhere beyond the glass, the music carries what the words leave behind

Our DATE with Destiny

Below is a small acrostic piece – a few lines arranged to catch the essence of the moment, a kind of epitome distilled from the fading light.

As the golden eye strained to feel the light, twilight gathered what the day left behind

Our DATE with Destiny

Deep behind twilight’s hessian sky
And down below the auburn horizon
There resides life’s golden eye
Ethereally aware of Earth’s dying oceans

As the world wilts under the strain
Do we hold the weight of what remains?

As the light settles – for the feelings that linger after the day is done, here is the song that holds them.

The Sun’s Winter Glow

This morning’s winter sun momentarily slipped through the clouds just long enough to set the eucalyptus leaves shimmering.

The Sun’s Winter Glow

Mother Nature’s wryly smiling, silently proud
there above the lingering dark clouds.
The waning winter sun shyly glows,
and its diffused light knows
how to make the eucalyptus leaves sparkle
during the season’s arctic cycle.

A stillness to sit with, as the day folds into the deeper quiet where winter light lingers.

The Poet’s Secret Notebook

Before dawn settled, and after a sleepless night, these small doorways into a wandering mind found their way into my bedside notebook…

An unexpected sign on our walk home — a cheerful echo to the morning’s wandering thoughts

The Poet’s Secret Notebook

Turn the poet’s page
Feel his restless rage

Open secret doors
Hunger for more

Repair broken windows
Learn from nature’s crows

Your windows are not mirrors
Reflections are not the jurors’

Follow your dreams
Do not listen to machines

From secret pages to shifting strings, may the music carry the last of these wandering thoughts into your dreams