Borrowed Time
His life is drawing to its close.
He has lived past three score and ten
and has no reason to suppose
That he should know the how and when.
He is not ready yet to go
his life is full of interest
Although his pace of life is slow
he has retained his youthful zest.
Now often plagued by aches and pains,
accepts them philosophically.
Its very seldom he complains,
he knows there is no remedy
for his ailments. He is quite sure
death will provide a lasting cure.
8-May-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Uisgebaugh for Friend Thad
Uisgebaugh
Now is the winter of my discontent.
The damp and cold exacerbate my pains.
Because my every joint complains
I must resort to using liniment.
An old fashioned, proven medicament
Although I do not know what it contains
I’ve used in the past for muscle sprains
It warms my ancient bones to some extent.
I find malt whisky very comforting
If I combine the two I find I cope.
With fact that I am growing old.
I sit and sip while waiting for the spring
Which will return before too long I hope
A sovereign remedy against the cold.
.Friday,26 February 2010
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Life is for living forfriend Thad.
I’m musing on mortality.
Which seems entirely apposite.
I think at my age I should be.
I can see clearly with hindsight.
As I recall the distant past.
Three quarters of a century.
The long years all too quickly passed.
Experience that made me, me.
I know that one day I will die.
I cannot know when that will be.
So until then I can but try
to use my time productively.
I read and write, I paint and draw
and I maintain my interest
in everything I’ve done before
and tackle new projects with zest.
Although I was born long ago
I don’t admit to being old.
Because I’m wise enough to know.
I should not put my life on hold.
Take to my armchair, watch TV
As others may expect me too.
Sit back and just wait patiently
for death. Something I will not do.
Until the day I die I’ll try
to live as I have always done.
I will think optimistically
and find each day some time for fun.
Saturday,03 April 2010
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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I hear and Reflect
A bell tolls sonorously
one single chime. Then silence reigns
It wakes me from my reverie.
Conscious again of aches and pains.
I had lost temporarily
in contemplation of the past
That single knell reminding me
Of the long years which quickly passed.
Before the years caught up with me
For old age does not come alone
It brings along infirmity.
Which hitherto you have not known.
When you are young you do not know
What future lies ahead of you
but as you live and learn and grow
You will become as others do.
Much more aware than what you were
of how your body will re- act.
To the stress and strain you bear.
That you must think before you act.
Gone is the energy of youth
You used to waste without a thought
You slowly come to learn the truth
That rude health can’t be sold or bought.
As long as I can hear that chime
which has disturbed my reverie
I can be certain that this time
The death knell does not ring for me.
Each day an opportunity
To do things I can still do
although slow and steadily.
My body still allows me to.
Although I pay in aches and pains
I do not think the price too high.
My interest in life remains.
I am too busy far, to die.
I know I will eventually
but do not let it worry me
It is the only certainty
the bell will toll one day for me.
23-Nov-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Too Many Aches And Ailments At Once
TOO MANY ACHES AND AILMENTS AT ONCE
Too many aches and ailments at once
A remedy for one causes new problems with another-
Tiredness is all-
Death is not feared-
Is it cowardly to want a way out?
One wills oneself to be courageous-
This thing is tried
And then another tried
One pain down another irritation up -
I cough and I ache and I long to rest
A poem cannot end the pains
Writing is only a minor distraction-
It is not good to be sick
And less good when one is old
Will I ever be alright again?
I have gotten out of this before
I will this time get out of it again-
But in the years to come?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Life Review. fot J.T, Ellison
When you grow old as you must do
and you look backward to review.
The way that life has treated you
Where you have been, what you’ve achieved.
The blessings given and received.
a great deal more than you believed.
I think you find you are impressed
You know you’ve always done your best
and you have earned the right to rest.
No longer part of the rat race
You live your life at your own pace.
Perhaps you can accept with grace
When you conclude your life review.
You’ve done what you were meant to do.
05/09/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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I'm still a man for M 'lady Milica
I’m still a man though I grow old
I am no longer brave and bold.
I think before I chose to act.
I have to face up to the fact.
I have to do as I am told.
I’m still a man
The aches and pains that trouble me
all tend to sap my energy.
I cannot do what I used to
That’s matterless for in my view
I’m still a man,
Short Rondel format
15/10/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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The best laid plans for J.T Ellison
The best laid plans
He sits and thinks but rarely shares
the subject of his pondering
He is convinced nobody cares
to hear his views on anything.
He does not like to watch T.V.
unlike the other residents.
He’s happy sitting quietly
Reviewing long ago events.
When he was self sufficient.
Intelligent and capable
‘til a cerebral accident
which rendered him incapable
of living independently.
Forced his reception into care
although it’s very plain to see
He would much rather be elsewhere.
Though he’s disabled physically
His mental capability
is not impaired apparently.
He accepts philosophically.
Life rarely goes as you have planned.
We meet with things we don’t expect
for fate not man is in command
What fate decrees we must accept.
22/04/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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The Last Leaf
That she was old beyond belief
was obvious for all to see.
Her face was like a wrinkled leaf
The last one clinging to the tree
in defiance of the gales.
Which autumns sends to strip the trees.
But now and then this method fails
and one leaf refuses to release
its hold and stubbornly remains
attached to where it’s always been.
Where once it drank the summer rains
when it was tender young and green.
How old she is she cannot say
nor does she care apparently.
But like the last leaf in her way
intends to cling on stubbornly.
She has outlived her family
all of her friends have long since gone
Accepting philosophically
She is the last surviving one
That when she dies her family tree
will disappear and leave no trace.
It will just simply cease to be
there is no one to take her place.
She is a source of wonderment
to scientists who study her.
She does not care she is content
to accept the support they offer her.
Shes not too old to change her ways
no longer has to search for food.
Which she done for all her days
and she still finds that life is good.
There is no record of her birth
her age is subject of debate.
Which is to her a source of mirth
a joke she can appreciate.
She does not care so why should they.
It does not matter in her eyes
She has survived until today
and will do ' til the day she dies.
The scientist all theorise
on how and why she’s lived so long.
They disagree as each one tries
to prove he’s right the others wrong.
She has her own opinion
but they show little interest.
And will not 'til the chance is gone.
When she has died and gone to rest.
She lived her life in her own way
It was the only way she knew.
Aware that she would die one day
as everybody has to do.
How old she was nobody knew
It does not matter I suppose.
That she was old we know is true
but why she was nobody knows.
11-Mar-09
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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When the time is right Story poem for M lady Tara
At sixteen years she was naïve.
Lived in a world of fantasy,
she was convinced that dreams come true.
But she would learn they seldom do.
By twenty two she was sure she knew.
She’d had a broken heart or two
That only fools placed trust in men.
She wouldn’t fall in love again.
But concentrate on her career
The price of love was much too dear.
She was content with single life
and had no wish to be a wife
At thirty she began to doubt.
She felt that she was missing out
on something she could not define.
She recognised the warning sign.
Reviewe her life took careful stock
What she found out came as a shock.
Though she was seen as a success
Her life was filled with loneliness.
She felt a twinge of jealousy
of friends who’d married happily
and swapped careers for motherhood.
A choice she hadn’t understood.
She realised what she must do.
She had to look at life anew
and find a man who wants a wife
A guy who’s sick of single life.
Someone who wants a family too
and make her girlish dreams come true.
It was then she met the man.
The ideal partner for her plan.
A mature man, a bachelor
a man who had been hurt before.
So when he showed some interest
she thought it would be for the best.
To let him know that she was free
and was prepared to be friendly.
That she enjoyed his company
which he accepted happily.
They saw each other socially
and with increasing frequency.
Who was the hunter, who the prey
would be impossible to say.
He popped the question she agreed.
Mother Nature’s plans succeed.
Despite the heart aches of the past.
They have fulfilled their dreams at last.
They’re married with a family.
My little tale ends happily.
Perhaps it’s true perhaps its not.
But does it matter? Not a lot.
19-May-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Lament of a filing clerk.
Another day draws to its close.
A boring day like yesterday.
Much like tomorrow I suppose.
Each and every day the same.
I go to work from nine to five
The boredom starts when I arrive.
I hardly know that I'm alive
Each and every day the same
Though I' well paid for what I do
I would like to try something new.
A day dream which will not come true
.Each and every day the same.
I'd like to change but dare not try.
I'll be nobody ‘til I die.
26/02/2012
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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It makes no sense.
A dog goes mad and is destroyed
A danger to society.
Why do we strive to avoid
the use of the death penalty.
Why do we pay to keep alive
a madman that we cannot cure.
It seems unjust he should survive
His victims didn’t that’s for sure
There is no cure for his disease
No chance at all he will be freed,
no way that he can earn release
He should be put down humanely
Why should he live in luxury?
with all mod cons provided free.
Saturday,05 December 2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Miseable existence.
Miserable existence.
I don’t admit to being old.
Nor will I put my life on hold.
As others think I ought to do.
I have a different point of view.
There’s so much that I want to do.
Each day I can find something new.
Something I have not done before.
It’s not a case of either or.
Let oher people vegetate
If they're prepared to sit and wait
in their arm chair and watch TV
Until they’re switched off finally.
When death decides to swing his scythe
and end their travesty of life.
Saturday,04 September 2010
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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One of those days
Although I try I cannot hide,
the fact that I’m dissatisfied
with everyone and everything
Despite the fact that I have tried.
Why it is that life is so unfair.
It sometimes drives me to despair
of everyone and everything
I could give up but I don’t dare.
For everyone depends on me
to provide their security
Yes everyone and everything.
Is this the way that things should be
I suppose I’m entitled to
take a very jaundiced view
of everyone and everything.
When I am feeling sad and blue.
Quite suddenly my blues are gone.
I know I can depend upon
every one and everything.
No longer feeling woebegone..
I know without a shred of doubt
I’ve little to complain about
That everyone and everything
are all prepared to help me out.
I snap back to reality.
The world does not depend on me
not everything and every one
is my responsibility.
I realise that my black mood
has coloured my whole attitude.
to everything and everyone
Because I was not feeling good
8-Nov-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Fare you well
Fly free proud spirit on your way.
Towards the truth you sought to find,
No need to tarry or delay.
You know I’ll follow on behind.
The bonds of love death cannot break
For love will last eternally.
We’ll meet again make no mistake.
I will rejoin you presently.
We’ve lived and loved and died before.
I have no doubt we will again.
Each life we learn a little more
although each parting is a pain.
With my blessings go your way
until my call comes I must stay.
22/04/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Her Own Choice
She could no longer cope alone.
Knew all too well that it was true
and there was something else she knew.
Her race was run, time to move on.
She did not wish to vegetate
in some well run establishment
Where lunch became the main event.
With no attempt to stimulate.
The workings of an agile mind,
trapped inside a useless shell.
A body which had served her well.
Before her health was undermined,
by ailments which progressively
destroyed all of her abilities.
The time had come to quit the game.
So she decided she would die
in her own bed in her own home
To be pain free would be welcome.
So she died voluntarily.
The cause of death no mystery.
She chose to exercise her right,
While she had the will to write
the finish to her life story.
22/04/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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In praise of older women for M lady Ernestine
There is beauty in old age
which younger girls can’t emulate
As if the lady’s reached the stage
where she need not dissimulate
She’s not afraid to let you see
the lines that life’s writ on her face.
Each wrinkle was earned honourably
each laughter line has earned its place
Cosmetics may conceivably
appear to slow the passing years
but only temporarily
before you are reduced to tears
Youthful beauty soon fades away
no matter how hard you may try
by artifice to make it stay.
In lucky ladies replaced by
A much longer lasting beauty
which shows from somewhere deep inside
without a trace of vanity
Though grace and dignity abide.
Old ladies can be beautiful
and often turn a young man’s head.
Although they are quite comfortable
accepting compliments unsaid.
Admiring glances from young men
who readily appreciate
The beauty of older women
is something youth can’t imitate.
Young women lack maturity
which older ladies can display.
Their youthful insecurity
somehow always gets in the way.
29-Jul-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Death is not the end For M'lady Ernestine
Death is not the end.
A ray of sunlight penetrates
the quiet gloom of the sick room
Wherein a dying lady waits.
For death to call impatiently.
She has no fear she is content
To know that soon she will be free.
For ninety years she’s done her best.
To her the sunlight seems to be
A sign that she has passed the test.
The ray of light eventually
illuminates her final smile.
She passes over quietly.
Her empty shell lies peacefully.
Almost as if she slumbered still.
Her spirit soars triumphantly.
Towards the light she hopes to see.
Remaining faithful to the end
She goes ahead confidently.
She has outlived her family
and all her friends are long since dead.
She lived her life successfully.
She lived and died competently
and she passed on with no regrets.
To start a new life hopefully.
Wednesday,30 June 2010
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Abnormality
Abormality?
I suffer from a strange disease.
A most peculiar malady,
I do exactly as I please
I do not seek a remedy
I’m growing old disgracefully
it’s much more fun than being staid.
Revel in eccentricity.
I’ve no reason to be afraid
of what some people think of me.
All of the people I respect
accept a certain levity.
As for the rest I don’t expect
that they would dare not to conform
to what they perceive as the norm.
14-May-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Maturely Considered Opinion
.
Approaching his centenary.
The old man did not seem to be
at all concerned apparently.
About the fact that he was old.
Still a player in life’s game
He took each day just as it came
and treated every day the same.
He did not feel that he was old.
Though he had reached a ripe old age
Much greater then the average
He did not see that he should rage
against the fact that he was old
He saw no reason to complain
he’d rather not be young again.
07/07/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Taboo
I find it rather curious
There are some things we don’t discuss,
not even with our closest friends.
As if our peace of mind depends
on the pretence that we won’t die.
Despite its crass stupidity
We know it is a certainty
but do not know the reason why.
Why is to talk of death taboo
.Except to the enlightened few.
Who believe that death is going to
set them free to start again.
Death is a door we all pass through
we should not fear it but we do
12-Dec-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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