Companions
The old maid and her tabby cat
Live together happily
in their small ground floor council flat
Where from the window they can see.
Pedestrians who hurry by intent
upon their own affairs
But others walk more soberly
as though weighed down by worldly cares.
They are content to stay at home
and watch the busy world go by
The cat is far too old to roam
her mistress ventures out to buy.
Although she goes reluctantly
the food they need from local stores.
The grocers and the bakery.
The old cat stays at home of course
but welcomes her ecstatically.
The moment that she steps inside
their haven of security.
Safe from the dangers of outside.
They keep each other company
the old maid and her tabby cat.
They are contents as they can be
in their small ground floor council flat.
29-Jul-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Related quotes
Hat Too Flat
We come in on the morning scan
All the way from far arcturus
Bringing with us peace and good will
From the margins of space and time
Our women are slung down low to the ground
Theyre very good youve probably had one
Our men are brave, studly and wise,
A pleasure to behold
Right away we walk the walk
More or less we talk the talk
But every time we make our play
Their eyes get wide they run away
cause the hat stays too flat
My hat is way too flat
My english she is much better now
But my hat remains too flat
The man smells a rat
And thats the end of that
My english it is more better now
But my hat is still too flat
Fair arcturus fashion forecast:
Skirts will be shorter
Legs stay long
Virtual raincoats are coming back
Hats as always continued flat
Back at home the machines work hard
We folk like to take it easy
Honing our awareness of
The finer things of life
Here when I go down to my job
I work hard for what seems like a long time
I look at my watch: fifteen minutes
It felt like half a day!
Soon enough we break for lunch
Me and the boys now Im one of the bunch
But no one wants to sit with me
So tell me what can the matter be?
The hat stays too flat
My hat is way too flat
My english she is much better now
But the hat is just too flat
A little thing like that
They dont get past the hat
My english it is more better now
But my hat remains too flat
song performed by by Steely Dan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Home sweet Home
I't's nice to have a home
somewhere to relax
and unwind at the end of a day.
If your homeless and on the street
home can be a cold shop doorway
or even a cardboard box.
But for some home can be a mansion
full of expensive antique furniture
with a full size swimming pool.
Home can be a dingy bed-sit
in a house divided into rooms
all sharing the kitchen and bathroom.
Or a one bedroomed council flat
in a fifteen storey tower block
where the lift is out of order again.
Home can be a in a caravan park
or even in a tent on a camp site
or on a barge or luxury yacht.
But a home is what you make it
full of happy times and fun
memories to stay forever.
You can be happy in a flat
and miserable in a castle
it's not about riches and wealth.
So enjoy the home you live in
no matter where that may be
be proud of where you live!
poem by Kevin Halls
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Personal Column
I seek a maid to marry me.
A homely maid who’s dutiful
a girl who can smile pleasantly.
Above a maid who’s beautiful.
For pretty girls think they can rule.
An equal partner's what I need
and not an empty headed fool
who’s just another mouth to feed.
I am not handsome it is true
But I work hard and I’m well paid
I earn sufficient to keep two
I am a master of my trade.
If this advert appeals to you.
Apply at once do not delay
But only homely girls will do
all pretty girls should stay away.
18-May-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Unseen dangers!
She prowls the floor then sits and stares.
But when I look there’s nothing there
But still watches carefully.
What does she see that I can’t see?
I wonder why she sits and stares.
Nothing will catch her unawares.
Perhaps she is protecting me
from dangers that I cannot see.
Cats tend to mind their own affairs.
They’re secretive and will not share.
The only thing that worries me.
I still don’t know what she can see.
Why should I worry needlessly?
While she watches protectively.
Thursday,22 September 2011
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Solace For M lady Helen Unknown
The surging tides that ebb and flow
I watch them come I watch them go.
The rolling waters of the sea,
have freedom now denied to me.
But she still calls me constantly.
My only mistress was the sea
‘til I asked you to marry me.
The only way you would agree
I must say farewell to the sea.
I turned my back upon the sea
settled ashore reluctantly.
My love for you has anchored me.
You feared it understandably
but I still miss her terribly.
I watch the boats go out to sea
where in my heart I long to be.
I’ve done all that you asked of me
.Its only when we disagree
That I come here unhappily
to seek the solace of the sea.
10-Apr-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Sex Discrimination
She trusted and she was betrayed
At least according to the maid.
She swore that she was innocent
and unaware of my intent.
The maiden lied as women do.
They enjoy first and then they rue.
Though it takes two to play loves game
it seems that I must bear the blame.
Why should she be seen as guilt free.
When she is just as blameworthy,
but she will live and I will die.
Her father means to hang me high.
Although I am not innocent.
I am entitled to resent
the obvious inequality.
I have to die but she goes free.
10-Jul-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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On the Eight Floor
I live on the eighth floor
in a small flat
all alone.
A pair of windows in the flat
open outward.
Its terrifying.
I've put strong grills
on the windows.
Not that I apprehend danger
from outside. At this height
none dare intrude from outside.
The danger lies within me
terrible things happening around -
this isolation and boredom -
could any day force me
to jump out of the window.
poem by Kunwar Narayan
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The first Snow for M 'lady Tara
Now almost imperceptibly the snow is falling steadily.
Unruffled by the slightest breeze to coat the branches of the trees
with layers of the purest white which sparkle in the pale moonlight.
A sight that’s pleasing to my eyes. Beneath the trees a blanket lies
as yet a flimsy covering but it is slowly thickening.
As falling snow relentlessly, continues drifting quietly.
The world reverts to black and white. It is a bitter winter’s night
I sit and watch from my window backlit by the firelights glow.
I’m thankful that I need not go outdoors amidst the falling snow.
I am content to stay inside I much prefer my fireside.
Although it’s beautiful to see the snow descending steadily.
I am too old to brave the cold I leave that to the young and bold.
Tomorrow with the morning sun the children will be having fun.
With cries of glee they’ll greet the snow and I will watch from my window.
The antics of small girls and boys as they engage in childish ploys.
Just as I did so long ago when I could enjoy the snow.
One benefit of being old I stay inside when it is cold.
My aching bones will not permit me to do much more than sit
and watch the children as they play and remember my young days.
18/08/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Surface Show for M 'lady Ernestine
Mayhap my lady teaseth me
When she derides the way I dress.
She mocketh me for soberness
But I forgive her readily
In all else though she pleaseth me.
She knows right well I must impress
my masters with my worthiness
That’s why I dress so soberly.
Though she can flaunt her finery
As well befits a pretty maid
But I alas must remain staid
When we are in society.
But when we are alone she knows
That I can act quite differently.
When I can don much brighter clothes
Which she approves apparently.
I am a peacock in disguise
which to my lady’s no surprise.
Sunday,17 January 2010
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Sibling Rivalry
Petunia was a pretty pig
though rather small she was not big
But she could sing and she could dance
and she did both at every chance
Her Sire thought it infra dig
Although she was quite undersized
No one could fail to be surprised
To see such talents in a swine
her sense of timing was divine.
The tricky steps which she devised.
Were praised by all who saw her dance
Her audience she would entrance.
Her talents caused disharmony
arousing sibling jealousy.
So much she was denied entrance.
To the comfort of the stye.
Petunia knew the reason why.
She showed them that she did not care
for she was welcomed everywhere
to dance and sing. Ecstatically.
26/06/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Serenity is my portion for M lady Ann Beard
The last rays of the setting sun
encarnadine the grey stonewalls
of my small house when day is done.
I watch content as darkness falls.
I have an unimpeded view
from where I sit towards the sea.
Each sunset shows me something new
the darkness holds no threat for me.
In fact I crave the quietness.
I choose to live in solitude.
I hate the city’s business
an anti social attitude? .
That may be true I can’t deny
I do not seek the company
of fellow men and I know why
I hate the close proximity.
Of the unthinking bustling crowd
Who advertise their discontent
broadcasting random thoughts aloud
By accident without intent.
The random thoughts they radiate
albeit quite unknowingly
combine together and create
a standing wave of misery.
Perhaps I am too sensitive.
Which would explain my attitude
The reason that I choose to live
in isolated solitude.
I’m woken by the rising sun
which bids me that it’s time to rise
and greet the new day just begun.
In perfect peace and quietness.
The grey stone walls now tinged with gold
I look towards the distant sea
Enjoy the beauty I behold
I am content as I should be.
08/08/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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The Seventh Floor - Do Yourself A Favour B-side
Its so nice on the seventh floor
Im taking you there ? ? ? ?
I get scared I cant touch the ground
But I feel safe when my friends come round
Ever so nice - live on the seventh floor
Ever so nice - Im safe ? ? ?
So much fun on the seventh floor
Everyone laugh when you walk through the door
I get scared when my friends come around
I look at the walls and swallow most down
Ever so nice - live on the seventh floor
Ever so nice - Im safe ? ? ?
Ive been to every floor
And on every floor
And just/still dont feel any better
song performed by by Ocean Colour Scene
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Rat and the Owl
A rat is moving on the ground;
It searches for something to eat;
’Tis night and it must quickly find
Some food or else, it must sure starve!
A large owl stands with two large eyes;
It turns its neck to scan the ground;
It strains its eyes to catch a prey,
And sees a rat shuffling across!
Both search for food in frantic ways;
Both need to eat to stay alive;
The owl is like a ghost at night;
Its large eyes contrast rat’s small ones!
The owl is predator for rat;
The rat is prey for owl at night;
The owl is sure to pin the rat,
And death is sure for the latter!
The rat moves on unwarily!
It nears the owl innocently;
It does not know that death is near;
Its mind is bent on searching food!
The owl is watching rat’s movements;
The prey is rather small in size;
It tries to keep the rat within
Its visual fields, and take a strike!
The rat is unaware of owl;
It has not sniffed the danger near;
With nostrils engrossed in food-search,
It scurries to and fro for long!
The owl is planning when to swoop;
An opportune moment must come;
The rat must take a moment’s rest;
The owl’s claws take the rat to nest!
The predator is smart and swift;
The prey will certainly get caught;
There is a small chance to escape;
But, predator must make the fault!
Both owl and rat must eat to live;
The rat is prey for owl always;
The rat can still avoid its death;
It must respect the owl’s beak-might!
In life, we play with dangers oft;
We know that fire surely burns;
We walk into the ‘jaws of death’!
We take some risks that bring us death!
But being careful is a must;
We cannot risk our precious life;
Lurk dangers in our environs;
The thread of life could get cut fast!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 7-21-2008
poem by John Celes
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Recession What Recession
Without the wherewithal to buy
I go without the food I need
whilst richer people overfeed.
I’m free to starve in poverty.
I must rely on charity,
does nothing for my self esteem.
Never in my wildest dream
did I realise that I could be.
Without a job without a home
.By circumstances forced to steal
but my hungers all too real.
A spell in jail would be welcome.
At least inside I would be fed.
Not root in dumpsters for my food.
I’d rather work as a man should
to earn my daily crust of bread.
My firm downsized and fired me
because their profit margins fell.
A matter of economy
consigning working men to hell.
The world is run by greedy men
who are obsessed with balance sheets.
So I may never work again
but live and die upon the streets.
13-Apr-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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The call we can't ignore for Friend Stephen
When I was young so long ago
an inside toilet was to me
epitome of luxury.
We had no choice we had to go.
To the outside lavatory
trudge down the yard through rain and snow
We suffered untold misery.
I can recall it vividly.
A stump of candle for a light.
Squares of newspaper on a string
It was no haven of delight
and all the while the draught whistling.
It used to be an earth closet
but we had progressed to a loo
Most usually the floor was wet
a home made duck board had to do
Today I sit upon the throne
in my bathroom warm and dry
and ponder on the loos I’ve known
I know I am a lucky guy.
From footprint loos in the east
to ultra modern super loos
It doesn’t matter in the least.
We have to go we can’t refuse.
I sit content and contemplate.
The softly quilted toilet roll
and all the latest up to date
systems with which I can control
The heat and the humidity
and spray sweet perfumes in the air.
Such decadence and luxury.
I do not find too hard to bear.
07/07/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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A Little Bit More
When your bodys had enough of me
And Im laying flat out on the floor
When you think Ive loved you all I can
Im gonna love you a little bit more
Come on over and lay by my side
Ive got to be touching you.
Let me rub your tired shoulders
The way I used to do.
Look into my eyes and give me that smile
The one that always turns me on
And let me take your harir down
Cause were staying up to greet the sun.
And when your bodys had enough of me
And Im laying flat out on the floor
When you think Ive loved you all I can
Im gonna love you a little bit more
Got to say a few things that have been on my mind
You know where my mind has been
I guess I learned my lessons
And nows the time to begin
So if youre feelin alright and youre ready for me
I know that Im ready for you
We better get it on now
Cause we got our whole life to live through
And when your bodys had enough of me
And Im layin flat out on the floor
When you think Ive loved you all I can
Im gonna love you a little bit more
When your bodys had enough of me
And Im layin flat out on the floor.....
song performed by by 911
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Who is responsible?
When molten magma surfaces
beneath an ancient glacier.
A bitter struggle then takes place
to prove which is superior.
The superheated steam produced
expends its force explosively
With molten rock and ice reduced.
Almost instantaneously.
To particles of dust and smoke
projected high into the sky.
Just Mother Natures little joke
A fact that no one can deny.
She demonstrates her power to show.
That though we think we’re in control
that we are not. She lets us know
that she’s in charge from pole to pole.
She forces us to ground our planes.
Ensures it isn’t safe to fly
as long as the ash cloud remains
suspended in the upper sky.
There’s very little we can do.
Except to wait impatiently
and let the scientists review
the situation constantly.
If and when they do decide
the sky is clear and safe to fly.
And not potential suicide.
There will be many asking why.
It took so long to satisfy
The powers that be, we could fly
without compromising safety.
We’ll ask but will get no reply.
We can accept as being true.
We do not trust the government.
Regard it with a jaundiced view
A bias which is permanent.
Damned if they don’t damned if they do.
We aren’t prepared to recognise.
That what they say could well be true.
That we were taken by surprise.
An act of God it’s classified
that lets insurers off the hook
Our claims will not be ratified.
They will go strictly by the book.
They will not lose they never do.
The small print will make sure of that.
It may be sad but it is true.
most claims they’ll simply turn down flat.
They’re glad to take your premiums
but they pay out reluctantly.
and only pay the minimums
They have to pay out legally.
Volcanoes, earthquakes acts of God
Although they happen frequently
myself I find it rather odd
are not covered by your policy.
Disasters strikes you’re on your own.
As you discover far too late
Although in fact you would have known
if you had read the rules they state..
Though well concealed in the small print.
You can’t complain they were supplied
Insurance companies make a mint
and we are left unsatisfied
.Wednesday,21 April 2010
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Visits to St Elizabeths
This is the house of Bedlam.
This is the man
that lies in the house of Bedlam.
This is the time
of the tragic man
that lies in the house of Bedlam.
This is a wristwatch
telling the time
of the talkative man
that lies in the house of Bedlam.
This is a sailor
wearing the watch
that tells the time
of the honored man
that lies in the house of Bedlam.
This is the roadstead all of board
reached by the sailor
wearing the watch
that tells the time
of the old, brave man
that lies in the house of Bedlam.
These are the years and the walls of the ward,
the winds and clouds of the sea of board
sailed by the sailor
wearing the watch
that tells the time
of the cranky man
that lies in the house of Bedlam.
This is a Jew in a newspaper hat
that dances weeping down the ward
over the creaking sea of board
beyond the sailor
winding his watch
that tells the time
of the cruel man
that lies in the house of Bedlam.
This is a world of books gone flat.
This is a Jew in a newspaper hat
that dances weeping down the ward
over the creaking sea of board
of the batty sailor
that winds his watch
that tells the time
of the busy man
that lies in the house of Bedlam.
This is a boy that pats the floor
to see if the world is there, is flat,
for the widowed Jew in the newspaper hat
that dances weeping down the ward
waltzing the length of a weaving board
by the silent sailor
that hears his watch
that ticks the time
of the tedious man
that lies in the house of Bedlam.
These are the years and the walls and the door
that shut on a boy that pats the floor
to feel if the world is there and flat.
This is a Jew in a newspaper hat
that dances joyfully down the ward
into the parting seas of board
past the staring sailor
that shakes his watch
that tells the time
of the poet, the man
that lies in the house of Bedlam.
This is the soldier home from the war.
These are the years and the walls and the door
that shut on a boy that pats the floor
to see if the world is round or flat.
This is a Jew in a newspaper hat
that dances carefully down the ward,
walking the plank of a coffin board
with the crazy sailor
that shows his watch
that tells the time
of the wretched man
that lies in the house of Bedlam.
poem by Elizabeth Bishop
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Transformation
Moonlight filtered through the trees.
Can cast strange shadows on the ground
which fill me with a vague unease
because they seem to move around.
Somehow independently
The minute that I look away.
As if they have been watching me
to try and lead my thoughts astray.
I know that in reality
the shadows represent no threat
But fear erodes my certainty
and in my panic I forget.
I only know I have to run.
Just as the shadows knew I would
They coalesce, attack as one
Then finally I understood.
I should have run when I first saw
the shadows on the forest floor.
I know now what I did not know
before I became a shadow.
31/07/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Fair Exchange? for M'Lady Ernestine
A man alone is incomplete.
He needs a helpmeet by his side
a fact from which you cannot hide.
He may be self sufficient
but I am sure that nature meant.
He needs a mate to be content.
Man was not meant to live alone.
Though he can cook and clean and bake
he needs a mate make no mistake.
A bachelor but not for long.
Some pretty maid will come along
and prove to him that he is wrong.
She will convince him easily.
She can fulfil all of his needs
the oldest tale of all succeeds.
He takes the bait with open eyes
and then he finds to his surprise.
That she not he has won the prize.
He may look back with some regret.
In fact it is quite normal to,
but things have changed as they must do.
A married man you are constrained
your roving eye must be restrained.
But you’ve lost less than you have gained.
Though bachelors may be quite free
to come and go just as they please
without responsibility.
No longer foot loose fancy free
you will adapt quite easily.
Swap freedom for security.
10-Jul-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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