Poetry/Australia – Page 25 – Ivor.Plumber/Poet

Up Among the Embers

The smoky Rocky’s on the way back to Vancouver, and Frankie waiting at the front door for my sister-in-law to come from work.

Up Among the Embers

Climbing higher and higher
Riser after blackened riser
Hovering above the forest fire
In the middle of this smoky mire

Here, beside her charred pyre
Listening to her hallelujah choir

Ivor Steven (c) Sept 2025

Adjustable

Adjustable

I have sailed far away
Higher than the calm of Corio Bay

And here I shall stay
In my welcoming chalet

Ably adjusted in every way
Come what may

Until my journey’s closing essay
Unfolds through a Canadian mandala

Ivor Steven (c) Sept 2025

Throwback Friday, Quietly I Exist

Today’s Throwback Friday Poem appears in my revised edition of “Tullawalla”, July 2022, and was originally written as a travel log piece about my overseas journey to, America, Philadelphia, in May 2019.

Quietly I Exist

I’m writing words from the edge of time

And pondering my life’s lack of rhyme

Thinking every moment is an ironic crime

And quietly, I exist only in mime

Life is a mountain of ups and downs

Sharp thorns and slippery crowns

For me, every moment is a good day

Behind me, I leave yesterday

And today I’ll by-pass midday

On my way to bathing in tomorrow’s sun-rays

We are not here to control nature

But we are responsible for her future

I don’t think humans are meant to be

Poisoning the sea with plastic and mercury

I cannot be the king of this stagnant world

But I am free as my wings unfurled

My eyes have been opened again

To reveal the sky, sunshine and rain

Now I see beyond every yellow door

There was once an original world

So, I’ll turn the latch to discover more

And give realities of life a whirl

Ivor Steven (c) Sept 2025

Fallen Ancestors

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

Ivor Steven (c) Sept 2025

Between Today’s Isobars

Between Today’s Isobars

Silently the bell rings
Quietly the birds sing

Secretly I hear the forest hum
Discretely I count up the sum

The number of stars
Between today’s isobars
And out beyond Mars

Ivor Steven (c) Sept 2025

Home Away From Home

Home Away From Home

On an island under the northern stars
Among the giant evergreen cedars
Within my personal astrodome
Feeling at ease in my home away from home

I am on top of the world
Uncurling my ancient bones, yet unfurled
Giving my weary soul another joyful whirl

In a land covered by forests and berries
Living a dream on an island with magical fairies

Ivor Steven (c) September 2025

Dusty Passport

Today’s Throwback Friday poem is from February 2019, when I was preparing myself for a trip to America/New York/Philadelphia, to visit my Philadelphia “cousins”, and today, here I am on Vancouver Island visiting my Canadian “cousins”.

Dusty Passport (revised)

Here I was resting, home again from the hospital,
after a second stroke had laid me up.
I was rekindling thoughts of travelling to America —
an adventure I’d always promised myself.
Night is not always dark, you know.

Firstly, I had to find my passport.
Yes, I’d hidden it somewhere safe.
After turning the bedroom inside out,
then, throwing the lounge room upside down,
the lost document was on a garage shelf —
looking dusty, but still only five years old.

Jumping for joy, you’d think I’d found gold.
Hardly ever been stamped — a Chinese one, that’s all.
Many years have passed since my last call.

I clasped that passport firmly in my hand’
and I said, “It’s time”, before my clock runs out of sand.

Ivor Steven (c) August 2025

An Ice Cream Cone

An Ice Cream Cone

I’m flying up, against gravity’s undertow
Higher than all the birds I know
Above white clouds full of snow

My wings are made of steel and bone
And within this long underbelly I am not alone
As we burst through the wind’s vibration zone
Then out of the blue I am handed an ice cream cone

https://youtube.com/watch?v=5UdkiRKj4U8&si=o6GWwU-RHFKcgjfp

Ivor Steven (c) August 2025

Transition

Transition

The daedal grey clouds hang motionless
There is not a breath of wind in the calmness
And the gliding birds look weightless

The afternoon sun remains inactive
Slumbering behind the sky’s silvery curtain

And there is a swelling aura of expectation
From the amazed audience standing at the station
All waiting for the beginning of the pilgrim’s mission

Ivor Steven (c) August 2025

“Who’s the Pilot”, is in this week’s Coffee House Writers Magazine edition.

Hello, dear readers and followers. I write for Coffee House Writers magazine (USA) fortnightly, and my poem “Who’s the Pilot” is in this week’s edition.
To read the poem, please click the link below to visit my Coffee House Writers Magazine article.
>> https://coffeehousewriters.com/whos-the-pilot/