A guest of Her Majesty for Friend Thad
Brunhilde Bloggs no fixed address.
Was very fond of cheap red wine.
Somewhat disordered in her dress.
Her voice a grating nasal whine.
She begs for cash from passersby.
Her manner almost threatening.
Her raging thirst to satisfy
at each refusal glowering.
A policeman tells her “move along”
and she reacts aggressively
Insists she has done nothing wrong.
But he has little sympathy
He has no choice but to arrest
and take her into custody.
She has become a public pest.
Which no one is allowed to be
Brunhilde Bloggs has an address
at least for several months to come.
She got what she deserved no less
but she was luckier than some.
Who passed out cold and froze to death
in some back alley out of sight.
A victim to cold winters breath
in drunken dreams of sheer delight.
11-Sep-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Related quotes
Slip of the tongue for M lady Francesca
Brunhilde Bloggs a local lass
was so convinced that she could pass
as being of the upper class.
She spoke in tones of pure cut glass.
At least when she remembered to,
It’s not an easy thing to do.
If she was crossed she quickly flew
into a rage: Turned the air blue.
the language that she used was crude
to say the least and very rude.
A complete change of attitude
So people quickly understood.
She was not what she seemed to be
one of the aristocracy.
9-Jan-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Nightwatch for My LADY IRENE
When silence fills the bowl of night.
My lady slumbers peacefully,
to lie beside her is my right.
A source to me of sheer delight.
My lady slumbers peacefully.
She is aware that I am near
safeguarding her security.
She knows she can rely on me
To lie beside her is my right
a privilege I had to earn.
I am rewarded by the sight
this night and every other night.
A source to me of sheer delight.
My lady dreams her dreams in peace
When silence fills the bowl of night
I watch and ward her by moonlight.
9-Jun-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Dog watch
The night is cold and clear and still.
The village streets lie quietly.
A bitter wind adds to the chill.
At home is where I’d rather be.
I have no choice I have to go.
My dog insists I take him out.
He knows he is entitled to
his final evening run about.
Then he will settle for the night.
It matter not rain, hail or snow.
He is correct he has the right
to tell me that its time to go.
He knows the time I must suppose.
What puzzles me is how he knows.
Wednesday,23 December 2009.
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Old Man's Nursery Rhyme
I.
In the jolly winters
Of the long-ago,
It was not so cold as now--
O! No! No!
Then, as I remember,
Snowballs, to eat,
Were as good as apples now,
And every bit as sweet!
II.
In the jolly winters
Of the dead-and-gone,
Bub was warm as summer,
With his red mitts on,--
Just in his little waist-
And-pants all together,
Who ever heard him growl
About cold weather?
III.
In the jolly winters of the long-ago--
Was it _half_ so cold as now?
O! No! No!
Who caught his death o' cold,
Making prints of men
Flat-backed in snow that now's
Twice as cold again?
IV.
In the jolly winters
Of the dead-and-gone,
Startin' out rabbit-hunting
Early as the dawn,--
Who ever froze his fingers,
Ears, heels, or toes,--
Or'd a cared if he had?
Nobody knows!
V.
Nights by the kitchen-stove,
Shelling white and red
Corn in the skillet, and
Sleepin' four abed!
Ah! the jolly winters
Of the long-ago!
We were not so old as now--
O! No! No!
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Their Internet usage is growing very rapidly, and even they can do the math: If everyone in China needed an IPv4 address - just one - this country would use up one third of the entire public IP address space.
quote by Vinton Cerf
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Godivas Granddaughter For Friend Denis Joe
Sky Clad she rode her motorbike
around the town at normal speed.
No one had ever seen the like
but all the fellers were agreed.
That she deserved a rousing cheer.
She’d livened up a boring day
They hoped she would again appear
a sight for which they’d gladly pay.
The lady had fulfilled her bet.
None knew her real identity,
the townsfolk talk about it yet.
But it remains a mystery.
Just who she was and why she chose
to ride Sky Clad nobody knows.
20-May-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Austere purity.
It’s autumn now; the trees discard
their final leaves in readiness
When winter comes times will be hard.
Their leafless branches suffer less.
From winter gales and hold less snow
Than they would in summer dress.
The time has come to let leaves go
Although bare branches don’t impress.
Mere silhouettes against the sky.
A tracery of black and white
They can still catch a poet’s eye
and may inspire him to write.
In praise of the simplicity
of winters cold sterility.
Friday,15 October 2010
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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I Hesitate for Friend Konstantin
I walk in darkness seeking light.
I search for truth to no avail
I can’t distinguish wrong from right.
I know not if I can prevail
against the problems assailing me.
I cannot say with certainty
if satisfaction can be found.
The only thing I’m sure about.
I have no choice I must go on.
Despite my fears I have no doubt
that I am not the only one.
Who suffers such uncertainty
yet still continues hopefully.
2-Feb-09
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Confession Without Shame
I have sinned I must admit.
If that’s what you choose to call it
I did as nature bid me to
and I am certain you did too.
Making love is natural
for any healthy boy or gal
Sharing mutual ecstasy
can’t be a sin. At least to me.
What you believe is up to you
You can be sure saints did it too.
It may be wrongful in your sight
That is your choice you have the right.
Your standards don’t apply to me.
I’ll carry on quite happily.
The only sin I recognise
and this to everyone applies
To hurt another wilfully
the only way to act sinfully.
8-Sep-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Climatic Sorcery
When frost's all on our winder, an' the snow's
All out-o'-doors, our 'Old-Kriss'-milkman goes
A-drivin' round, ist purt'-nigh froze to death,
With his old white mustache froze full o' breath.
But when it's summer an' all warm ag'in,
He comes a-whistlin' an' a-drivin in
Our alley, 'thout no coat on, ner ain't cold,
Ner his mustache ain't white, ner he ain't old.
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Wondering for M 'lady Tara
.
Today I saw a winsome Nun.
A negative in black and white.
I wondered if she had begun
to question if her choice was right.
And was she really positive
a life of prayer would satisfy
When she had so much more to give,
given the opportunity
Had her choice been freely made?
Or was she merely dutiful?
Had she been promised as a child?
It’s not at all unusual
to be denied the right to choose.
A subtle form of child abuse.
19-May-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Enduring beauty for M'ladyCatherine Rica Coso
From bare black twigs against the sky.
Transformed by spring to blossoms white.
To me a more than welcome sight.
Which alas too soon will die.
But in their place new greenery
Leaves seem to unfurl overnight
in shades of green which catch sunlight
Add lustre to the scenery.
The leaves will last the summer long.
Before they don their autumn dress
in garish colours to impress
The winds which sing the winters song.
The trees return to nakedness
Retaining beauty none the less.
31-May-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Gasoline Alley
(rod stewart, ron wood)
I think I know now whats making me sad
Its a yearnin for my own back yard
I realize maybe I was wrong to leave
Better swallow up my silly country pride
Going home, running home
Down to gasoline alley where I started from
Going home, and Im running home
Down to gasoline alley where I was born
When the weathers better and the rails unfreeze
And the wind dont whistle round my knees
Ill put on my weddin suit and catch the evening train
Ill be home before the milks upon the door
Going home, running home
Down to gasoline alley where I started from
Going home, and Im running home
Down to gasoline alley where I was born
But if anything should happen and my plans go wrong
Should I stray to the house on the hill
Let it be known that my intentions were good
Id be singing in my alley if I could
And if Im called away and its my turn to go
Should the blood run cold in my veins
Just one favor Ill be asking of you
Dont bury me here, its too cold
Take me back, carry me back
Down to gasoline alley where I started from
Take me back, wont you carry me home
Down to gasoline alley where I started from
Take me back, carry me back
Down to gasoline alley where I started from
Take me back, carry me back
Down to gasoline alley where I started from
Take me back, carry me back
Down to gasoline alley where I started from
song performed by by Rod Stewart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Onward Ever Onward.
I must pursue my endless quest.
My destination is unknown
Although the path is overgrown
I have no choice I must go on.
I’m not allowed to stop and rest
I have to journey on alone.
I have no choice I must go on
although the path is overgrown.
It’s up to me to do my best
until my journeying is done.
Although the path is overgrown
I have no choice I must go on..
Perhaps in time I’ll pass the test
Show I could do it on my own.
I have no choice I must go on
Although the path is overgrown.
Each man must pursue his own quest
It’s something he must do alone.
Although the path is overgrown
There is no choice you must go on.
Mirrored refrain created by Stephanie Rypnyk
Sunday,17 January 2010.
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Fashion sense for M'lady Ann Beard
The trees bedecked with blossom now.
Some clad in pink and some in white.
Contestants in the beauty show
which spring provides for our delight
The blossoms which adorn he trees
are unaware, they do not know.
That very soon the gentle breeze
will shake them loose to fall like snow.
The trees will don new coats of green.
More suited to the summer sun
than what the blossoms would have been
Their time has passed so they have gone.
When autumn comes the trees will know
its time to wear their winter clothes
In preparation for the snow.
The theme of winters beauty show.
Though seasons come and seasons go.
The trees adapt quite easily
for summers sun or winters snow
They’re sure to be dressed suitably.
29/04/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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A Sobering Tale.
Sometimes he sits, sometimes he thinks.
At other times combines the two
More frequently he sits and drinks.
Because he cannot bear the view.
The only view that he can see
through pain filled eyes awash with tears.
He can remember vividly.
The promise of his early years.
When he was young and full of hope.
He had the whole world by the tail
But later found he could not cope,
although he tried to no avail.
Discovering that a drink or two
helped to alleviate the stress
A sorry story nothing new
His life became a complete mess.
He lost his job it had to come.
His drinking led to a divorce.
His wife then claimed the family home.
His life sped on it’s downwards course.
A friend became his enemy
because he let it take control.
It took him over completely.
Dependent now on alcohol.
No longer does he drink from choice
That luxury is now denied.
He drinks to still the nagging voice
which urges him to suicide.
Today he’s just a drunken bum
with nothing to look forward to.
Bar cheap red wine to make him numb
albeit temporarily.
Sometimes he sits, sometimes he thinks
sometimes he can combine the two.
More often though he sits and drinks
There’s nothing he would rather do.
10/10/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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The World's Address
I know you deceived me, couldn't sleep last night
Now my tear stains on the wall reflect an ugly sight
I can see your secrets
No need to confess
Everyone looks naked when you know the world's address
The world's address
A place that's worn
A sad pun that reflects a sadder mess
I'll repeat it for those who may not have already guessed
The world's address
Life's parade of fashion just leaves me depressed
Under every garment i can see the world's address
Call the men of science and let them hear this song
Tell them albert einstein and copernicus were wrong
The world's address
A place that's worn
A sad pun that reflects a sadder mess
I'll repeat it for those who may not have already guessed
The world's address
Call the men of science and let them hear this song
Tell them albert einstein and copernicus were wrong
The world's address
A place that's worn
A sad pun that reflects a sadder mess
I'll repeat it for those who may not have already guessed
The world's address
A place that's worn
A sad pun that reflects a sadder mess
I'll say it one more time for those who may not have already guessed
The world's address
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Domino Effect
I sometimes wonder what I’d do
should it become possible to.
Just click my mouse and so erase
all memory of former days.
Give me the chance to start anew
A pristine sheet on which to write
A chance to stand back and review.
what I got wrong what I got right.
I think perhaps it’s just as well
this is a choice we cannot make.
For insofar as I can tell
I think it would be a mistake.
To try to rewrite history.
How could we know what to select
to keep or discard totally.
I fear a domino effect.
I think I would leave well alone
I would not change a single thing.
Too many factors are unknown
to change one might change everything..
26-Oct-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Domino effect fot J.T, Early
I sometimes wonder what I’d do
should it become possible to.
Just click my mouse and so erase
all memory of former days.
Give me the chance to start anew
A pristine sheet on which to write
A chance to stand back and review.
what I got wrong what I got right.
I think perhaps it’s just as well
this is a choice we cannot make.
For insofar as I can tell
I think it would be a mistake.
To try to rewrite history.
How could we know what to select
to keep or discard totally.
I fear a domino effect.
I think I would leave well alone
I would not change a single thing.
Too many factors are unknown
to change one might change everything..
26-Oct-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Public Servant
Public servant
I have no choice it must be done
before my only chance is gone.
I have him clearly in my sights
and I am well within my rights.
He is armed, prepared to kill.
I have no doubt at all he will.
He is a threat to everyone.
I have no choice it must be done.
Although I would rather not
I must squeeze off the fatal shot.
I chose to shoot him through the head
make certain sure that he is dead.
Before he can shoot anyone
The choice is mine and mine alone.
I kill the man reluctantly
but that is how it has to be
I swore to serve and to protect.
The public and they all expect.
Me to carry out my duty
As best I can efficiently.
The man is dead the threat is gone
And normal life can carry on.
Nobody spares a thought for me
They do not care apparently.
05/04/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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