Artistry for M lady Francesca
The night has fled but left behind
a louring sky gun metal grey.
foreshadowing the dawn of day.
My eyes wide open search the skies,
the east whence comes the rosy glow.
As from beneath the sea the sun will rise
and slowly climb to dominate the sky.
The source from which the pastel colours flow.
The shades of amber rose and gold we see
a true display of nature's artistry.
6-Jan-08
sonnetina
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Natural Artistry
Natural artistry
The onion domes against the sky
by morning light blush rosily.
Before the sun has risen high.
Resplendent in his majesty.
He paints the domes with gleaming gold.
Without finesse but lavishly.
His whole approach is overbold.
I prefer delicacy..
The pastel shades that I could see
before the blazing sun applied
his crude form of artistry
and hid the beauty from my eyes.
With coats of gold he misapplied,
that he believes mistakenly.
Will be pleasing to the eyes
of the vast majority.
Who only value opulence.
I could be wrong he may be right.
But I prefer the evidence
which is provided by my eyes.
Te golden glow the sun supplies
to onion domes is transient.
Although pleasing to most men’s eyes,
an artists eyes are different.
I keep my vigil faithfully
though I confess impatiently.
Tomorrow morning I shall see.
The onion domes bathed in beauty.
Before the sun can brutalise
with crass insensitivity.
The pastel colours dawn applies
to onion domes against the skies.
Thursday,27 May 2010 http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Where do they go? for M'lady Denise
A sky layered in lavender,
old rose and streaks of gold that glow.
Against approaching indigo
as night accepts day’s surrender.
The sun descends into the sea.
His task complete it’s time to rest.
As night achieves a slow conquest.
The colours will fade gradually
Tomorrow morning with the dawn
The pastel colours will return,
The Sun will rise to take his turn.
As in the east new day's born.
Where do the pretty colours go?
when darkness reigns. I do not know.
Saturday,03 July 2010
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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What is it that stands between us?
Back again to see the day,
To see through skies another way.
Through pastel shades we fade away
Blissful in the night.
What it is I’ve done
Where did I go wrong?
Maybe there’s nothing more to this,
Maybe it won’t last long
This happiness I’m feeling.
Dazed, blazed confused, you know, crazed.
Ripped. Torn. Worn out at the seams.
Coming apart, slowly but surely we fall in endless dreams
And close our eyes we drift into the night
And everything’s o.k. for a little while, everything’s alright.
You know you can come back with me now
To way back when
We’d sit around in uniform and maybe then
Dance away the blues at night
To scared to face the daemons that awaited us in the day realm.
The source is drained,
Go close your eyes,
Slip on over to the dark side,
The other side of morning.
Another way to see it through
Another way to blue and back again
All for you my friend
To dance the night aflame.
Dreams fulfill desire, open up your minds eye.
Perceive the reality around you, a shambles.
Take a little gamble, you know, take a step outside.
Shape, mould desire into each and every form,
Break away from the norm, you know, its all an illusion.
Shake away the sleep from your eyes,
Torn away from bloodshot skies,
Another day is born.
As the new dawn fades,
As shades of grey
Follow in our footsteps.
Keep on keeping on, sweet dreams ever onwards.
Don’t languish too long in temptation,
Redemption lies beyond your shoulder.
What is it that stands between us?
I see no diversion in your path,
All I ask is you sit back and laugh awhile
Await the time to pass.
What does it mean?
How do you feel?
Does it make it any more real
That your dreams are scattered evermore.
Are you ever going to stop and think?
Sink a while, and wallow
Swallowed, engulfed within realm of nonsensical values,
Who could complain? Not I, I’d do it all again.
poem by David Lacey
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Pale Morning Sun
Pale morning sun that rises in the east,
Spread wide your light,
And let the warming blush be thus increased,
To shine more bright.
Welcome the dawn and so enhance the sky,
With colours that unite,
A vision there displayed, food for the eye,
Quick changing sight.
A new day now unfolds, and in its glow,
The scene is quite
Breathtaking. Subtle shades soft and mellow,
Just fine and right.
Pale morning sun, that rises, burn more strong,
And so invite,
Nature to call awake the melody of birdsong,
From out the night.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Dusk to Dawn for M ladyTara
The evening breeze a lullaby
which echoes softly in the sky
and bids the sun go to his rest.
The silver moon will take his place
dispensing silver light with grace.
When night has passed the sun will rise
and from the east will paint the skies
with pastel tints we love the best.
From palest pink to rose and gold.
A miracle that men behold
with wondering eyes, when they arise
to start the duties of the day.
from their warm beds reluctantly.
Each morning brings a fresh surprise
the sun provides triumphantly.
9-Apr-08
Rosa rian Sonnet
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Truth Black Truth Grey?
shades of truth in black or grey
truth is even driven reflected
in the colour of cars people drive
in Indonesian two colours dominate
cars are predominantly black or grey
like the colour of truth in the country
Indonesia usually ranks esteemed third
in top three for world internal corruption
without bribes this country cannot run
in this land the truth is black
truth has many shades of grey
upon these two colours is all run
Indonesia from any highway to byway
half the cost or more of building a bridge
any road in official bribes is paid out
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Lilac And Gold And Green
Lilac and gold and green!
Those are the colours I love the best,
Spring's own raiment untouched and clean,
When the world is awake and yet hardly dressed,
And the stranger sun, her bridegroom shy,
Looks at her bosom and wonders why
She is so beautiful, he so blest.
Lilac and green and gold!
Those were the colours you wore to--day,
Robed you were in them fold on fold,
Clothed in the light of your love's delay.
And I held you thus in my arms, once only,
And wondered still, as you left me lonely,
How the world's beauty was changed to grey.
Lilac and gold and green!
I would die for the truth of those colours true!
Lilac for loyalty, gold for my queen,
And green the faith of my love for you.
Here is a posy of all the three.
My heart is with it. So think of me,
And our weeping skies shall once more be blue.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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What's Wrong?
Love has left me but I must go on.
I rise. I wash and take my time.
I eat without tasting and drink without thirst
And finally find clothes into which I climb.
Don't look in the mirror. Don't want to see.
Don't look at the clock to see the hour.
My interests have waned and slowly died,
Nothing to digest, nothing to devour.
Love has left me and what can I do?
I search for answers. Where can they be?
They must be hidden in this mind of mine.
Better they stay there, best not to see.
For life goes on and I hear it happening.
The morn becomes night and I'm wide-awake.
I wish for the hours to move like seconds.
But they move slowly, too long they take.
Love has left me and nothing's the same.
Life all around me cannot be aware.
It's too busy just doing its thing
and I'm sure if it could it would declare
"What's wrong? "
poem by Edwina Reizer
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As We Go
A dream of white, snow newly laid,
Lines of footprints, all freshly made,
As across the ground we go,
Leaving our footprints in the snow.
A dream of yellow, sun so strong,
Lines of sunshades on sand, belong,
As across the beach we go,
Leaving the shades, in the sun’s glow.
A dream of blue, sky clearly seen,
Lines of vapour, where planes have been,
As across the land we go,
Leaving the trails, that skywards flow.
A dream of black, the night is here,
Lines of stars, which slowly appear,
As across the hours we go,
Leaving the stars, on night’s shadow,
A dream of colours, as dawn awakes,
Lines of raindrops fall as daybreaks,
As across the day we go,
Leaving the drops, on dawn’s rainbow.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Nocturne for M'lady Lucianne
A rosy glow which fades to grey,
as dusk writes finis to the day
The grey deepens to indigo,
the one by one the bright stars show.
Bright sequins on the cloak of night.
My heart rejoices at the sight.
To me the night is Feminine,
the stars just serve to underline
the fact a lady needs to dress
in such a way that she’ll impress.
I am impressed as you can see
I’m inspired to write poetry
in praise of Diana who will rise
to be the mistress of the skies.
26-May-08
http: // blog.my space.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Dawn Breaking
Dawn brought a ray of sunshine
and a light mist above the bay.
A ray of hope for everyone
for a bright new summer day.
Flowers slowly opened their petals,
spreading beautiful colours everywhere.
A patchwork quilt of wonder,
coming alive before our eyes,
with the dawn breaking
across the dark night skies.
poem by David Harris
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Eyes Wide Open
Here it comes, here comes another day
Another decision on the way
Well here it comes, here comes a covered display
of preferences to make
Well here it comes, here comes a knock on the door
Open it for an opportunity
Well here it comes, here comes another day
for memories to be made
Eyes wide open
Eyes wide open all the time
'n there it was, it was a perfect take
and were you asleep or awake
There it was, it was a perfect time
to speak your mind
'n there it was, it was a chance of a lifetime
It flew right by and what did you do?
Well there it was, it was another day
for memories to be made
Eyes wide open
Eyes wide open all the time
I've got my eyes wide open
Eyes wide open all the time
Because you never know
what you might see...
song performed by by King Crimson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Another Day
The sun rises slowly
On another day
The eastern sky grows
Cold
Winter in water colours
Shades of grey
Something
Something holds me
Holds me hypnotized
I stare at the window
Stare at the window
Waiting for the day
To go
Winter in water colours
Shades of grey
song performed by by Cure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Travelling to Nowhere
I'm travelling on the road to nowhere
I'm travelling on the road with nowhere to go
Just taking my time walking the line
Walking kinda slow
Searching for things, things I do not know
I've met a woman who plucks my cord-baby
Caused the earth beneath me to Rock & Roll
Ain't no saint that I know
But got that thing called Soul
Should have turned and seen the setting sun
Should have noted the shadows slowly come
Searching for things that do not matter
Life's never served on a platter
I knew this woman was right
I knew we'll make love underneath the stars at night
And through the mist of a new dawn
Her warm body close as we lay on the lawn
Should have turned and seen the light
Looked at the sun rise at the end of the night
Closed my eyes to let open my mind
Where true colours all around me I will find
poem by JeanJacques Evendon
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Morning
DAWN in the east, and chill dew falling--
Tears of the new-born day;
Dew on the lawn, and blackbirds calling,
Music and mild mid-May.
The lilac, see, wins back the colour
Lost on the field of Night
See, the spent stars grow dimmer, duller!
Look forth, my life's delight!
Open your window, lean above me,
Rose, my white rose, my song!
Leave your white nest, love, if you love me--
Night is so lonely-long.
Day is our own, and day's a-breaking;
Sweet sleepy eyes of grey,
You shall not chide an early waking
When Night grows kind as Day!
poem by Edith Nesbit
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The Three Kings [1]
The East is dead and the West is done, and again our course lies thus
South-east by Fate and the Rising Sun where the Three Kings wait for us.
When our hearts are young and the world is wide, and the heights seem grand to climb—
We are off and away to the Sydney-side; but the Three Kings bide their time.
‘I’ve been to the West,’ the digger said: he was bearded, bronzed and old;
Ah, the smothering curse of the East is wool, and the curse of the West is gold.
I went to the West in the golden boom, with Hope and a life-long mate,
‘They sleep in the sand by the Boulder Soak, and long may the Three Kings wait.’
‘I’ve had my fling on the Sydney-side,’ said a blacksheep to the sea,
Let the young fool learn when he can’t be taught: I’ve learnt what’s good for me.’
And he gazed ahead on the sea-line dim—grown dim in his softened eyes—
With a pain in his heart that was good for him—as he saw the Three Kings rise.
A pale girl sits on the foc’sle head—she is back, Three Kings! so soon;
But it seems to her like a life-time dead since she fled with him ‘saloon.’
There is refuge still in the old folks’ arms for the child that loved too well;
They will hide her shame on the Southern farm—and the Three Kings will not tell.
’Twas a restless heart on the tide of life, and a false star in the skies
That led me on to the deadly strife where the Southern London lies;
But I dream in peace of a home for me, by a glorious southern sound,
As the sunset fades from a moonlit sea, and the Three Kings show us round.
Our hearts are young and the old hearts old, and life, on the farms is slow,
And away in the world there is fame and gold—and the Three Kings watch us go.
Our heads seem wise and the world seems wide, and its heights are ours to climb,
So it’s off and away in our youthful pride—but the Three Kings bide our time.
poem by Henry Lawson
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What's Left?
Love has left me but I must go on.
I rise. I wash and take my time.
I eat without tasting. I drink without thirst
and finally find clothes into which I climb.
Don't look in the mirror. Don't want to see.
Don't look at the clock to see the hour.
My interests have waned and slowly die,
nothing to digest, nothing to devour.
Love has left me and what can I do?
I search for answers. Where can they be?
They're locked up inside this mind of mine,
better to stay there, best not to see.
For life goes on and I hear it happening.
The morn becomes night and I'm wide awake.
I wish for the hours to move like seconds
but they move too slow, too long they take.
Love has left me and nothing's the same.
Life all around me cannot be aware.
It is too busy doing its thing
and I'm sure if it could it would declare
'What's wrong? '
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Nightfall for M'Lady Ernestine
The evening sky in shades of grey.
Light grey, dark, grey, all tinged with gold
Denotes the ending of the day.
I watch entranced as I behold
the darkness falling gradually.
The blue transmutes to indigo,
the last remnants of day light flee.
Reluctantly but they must go.
The stars come slowly into view.
The constellations wheel and turn,
forever old, forever new
and catch your eye each in their turn.
If I but wait the moon will rise.
Each night provides some new surprise.
18-Jul-08
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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To My Lady
When the tender hand of Night
Like a rose-leaf falls
Softly on your starry eyes;
When the Sleep-God calls,
And the gate of dreams is wide,
Wide the painted halls,
Dream the dream I send to you
Through your spirit’s walls!
Dream a lowly lover came,
Lady fair to woo;
Dream that I the lover was,
And the lady—you;
Dream your answer was a kiss,
Warm as summer dew—
Waking, in the rosy dawn,
Let the dream be true!
poem by Victor James Daley
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Qualities of light
A certain gauzy luminosity
In the dawn of a summer day
The diffuse, dispersive quality
As morning breaks… across the bay
That almost palpable morning spark
In a young girl’s liquid eyes
Dawn’s nascent glow… ‘neath night’s dark
Of star and moonlit skies
Golden haloes drape oe’r mountaintops
Beams peeking shyly through the valleys
Columns of crystal, piercing thunderclouds
Chasing darkness… down empty alleys
Filtering through filigree lace of old lady’s windows
Spotlighting dust motes dancing in air
Mirrored in tresses of maidens and widows
Reflected in highlights of grey and blonde hair
laths of lights, rise lazily toward the beams
Through cracks and splits of sun bleached wood
Old barns and sunbeams not always what they seem
Early light, … prismatic rainbow… oft misunderstood
Display the might of new sunny day
Then blazing bright…away with the night!
So much more… then one can say…
of…The many, curious qualities of light
poem by David Whalen
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