Dying to succeed for Friend Jon London
The pace of life is fast and furious.
We have no time to simply stand and stare.
There is no peace to be found, anywhere,
so many pressures brought to bear on us.
Why is that we have to fume and fuss
lack of success is not so hard to bear
despite the direful warnings we hear
As for myself I find it curious.
Why many men assume that they must fail
if they don’t work a sixteen hour day.
Subsuming every other interest.
Some work themselves to death to no avail
because it seem to them the only way
To prove they’re better than the rest.
18-May-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Seagulls for J.T.Early
Seagulls
Masters of both sea and air Flying skills beyond compare.
The seagulls skim the waves then rise a sight that’s pleasing to my eyes
They ride the thermals easily I think that I will never see
a manoeuvre they do not share No matter where I stand and stare their graceful flight sheer artistry. such aerobatics all for free
Although I find it hard to bear I am earthbound and not up there
Sometimes it brings tears to my eyes I’m often taken by surprise wishing for things that cannot be I find I’m weeping helplessly
22-Aug-08 http: // blog. my space.com/poeticpiers
Trigee format
ie each side can be read as a seperate poem amd reading straight across a third poem can be read
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Reward for long service.
Reward for long service
English ode format.
The waterways of England are
Somewhat neglected nowadays
More fun than travelling by car
Is cruising down the waterways.
Although you cannot travel fast.
You can enjoy the scenery
Sheer pleasure from the first to last
Speed merchants though may stand aghast
They much prefer machinery
to relics from the distant past.
The narrow boats which they despise.
Are works of art in their own right.
Some motorists to their surprise
see waterways in new light.
The motorways designed for speed
To tell the truth are not much fun
Although some drivers disagreed
You cannot please everyone
Alternative religion
a modern technocratic creed.
I choose to cruise the waterways.
A slower pace that suits my taste
Than drive on busy motorways
I have no need for making haste
Each to their own I must suppose
You’re free to choose what suits you best.
To travel fast or travel slow
I don’t claim to speak for the rest.
Though I can guess I do not know.
What pressures have been brought to bear
Why some must choose the motorways
To travel fast from here to there.
I’ve opted out of the rat race.
Retirement has set me free
To travel at my chosen pace
No boss to tell me what to do
It is entirely up to me
That’s why I chose the waterways
I took the chance to start anew.
I am aware not everyone
Has the freedom to decide to do
the same as I have done.
Their choices are limited to.
Obeying what employers say.
Resigning from their present post
and try to find a different way.
But most cannot afford the cost.
I know that I am fortunate.
I worked like that for forty years.
Retirement I find is great.
Better than it first appears.
I was quite sure I would be bored.
With nothing to look forward to
But it’s a case of all aboard.
We’re off to see somewhere new.
No need to rush my times my own
How quickly past the years have flown.
Wednesday,23 November 2011
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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The Dogds of War for JT Earley
Devastation, desolation.
Nothing offers consolation
when the tides of war have passed.
Only our misery can last.
Though we tried to live in peace
The dogs or war had slipped their leash.
Strangers came into our land
although we didn’t understand.
They treated us as enemies
looting killing as they please.
There was nothing we could do
but run away as we tried to.
We weren’t welcome anywhere.
Always moving’s hard to bear.
We would rather be at home
instead of being forced to roam.
Once unleashed the dogs of war
no matter what they’re fighting for.
Leave only sorrow in their wake.
Death and suffering and heart ache.
Devastation, desolation
nothing for our compensation
for the way of life we lost.
The innocent must bear the cost.
18-Apr-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Keeping up appearances forJTEllison
Why do we feel the need to ask?
Just who we are so frequently
Why is that we wear a mask
to hide our true identity?
Why do we try so hard to be
somebody other than we are
Adopt a personality
in the same way we choose a car.
Who are we trying to impress?
Why do we feel the need to hide
behind a façade of success.
It does not alter what’s inside.
Although we try we’re doomed to fail
because we can’t sustain the lie
Our efforts are to no avail.
Yet still we feel compelled to try.
2-Mar-09
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Am I? for friend Thad.
I think therefore I am but I
can only be aware of me.
If I should ask could you reply
with well considered honesty.
I am as I appear to be
to myself with my inner eye
Or do you see me differently
and if so can you tell me why.
Or will you simply lie to me
and tell me what I want to hear.
Because you think that you can see
the truth might be too much to bear.
I think therefore I am but I
Cannot claim true validity
There’s no real way to verify.
The simple fact that I am me.
Monday,25 January 2010
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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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Work, Sleep, Work, Sleep, Work
Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work:
Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work.
Oh free me please with gentle ease
From work, sleep, work, sleep, work!
This odium, pounding tedium
Of my work, sleep, work, sleep, work.
Just whisk me off to lands afar
From work, sleep, work, sleep, work -
That grinding train of rhythmic pain
Called ‘Work, sleep, work, sleep, work.’
Poor neural circuits fizzle and pop
In work, sleep, work, sleep, work,
In trying to make some sense of all this
Work, sleep, work, sleep, work.
But Hark! I see a golden gleam -
A saving spirit of hope:
‘You’re fired! ’ He screams. What news to bear,
This wondrous hangman’s rope!
So now I’m free, released from all this
Work, sleep, work, sleep, work -
Eternal peace and rest for me, no
Work, sleep, work, sleep, work.
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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My first P.M. (Autopsy) for M lady Dee Daffodil
I felt no apprehension
I was quite frankly curious
prepared to pay attention.
Which made my colleague furious.
Because he had expected me
to turn pale green, perhaps pass out.
Instead of which I strained to see.
Surprising him I have no doubt.
To ascertain the cause of death,
we had to solve that mystery.
I didn’t even hold my breath,
the process interested me.
I watched spell bound as in a trance
the work of the pathologist
. A man who left nothing to chance
as he worked through his own check list
Each organ was removed and weighed
examined carefully to see
what changes disease may have made.
His findings noted carefully.
In speech upon a Dictaphone,
speaking conversationally
I was surprised how time had flown
as I watched fascinatedly.
I asked him what the verdict was
and how the man had come to die.
He said that he could find no cause
that he could clearly identify
A heart attack I’ll certify
to satisfy officialdom.
It is the truth most probably.
He went because his time had come.
I can remember vividly
I was surprised by what he said.
He spoke with great authority.
We can be certain he is dead.
I can find nothing untoward
which might suggest some sort of crime.
The man has gone to his reward.
He simply had run out of time.
18-Jun-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Time to be,
Steal away quietly meditate
You can spare time enough. For a while
silently hide away. Contemplate
who you are, what you are thoroughly.
You may find peace of mind, leave behind
the pressures and distress easily.
All you need to succeed is concede.
You can fly if you try earnestly.
You will see, you can be really free.
12/07/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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When the time is right for M'lady Ernestine
Broad sonnet
We search for love to no avail. We try too hard and so we fail.
Although it may seem curious, fate knows much better than us.
When we are ready for a mate and then she does not hesitate.
She sets the time she sets the place, when she will bring us face to face.
With the partner of our dreams although to us it always seems.
That we have met by accident, but we did not it was by intent.
Fate knows exactly what we need and with her help we will succeed.
In finding what we have searched for. We don’t need to search anymore
We have been chosen carefully and who are we to disagree
We are quite sure our dreams come true, precisely as fate means us to.
It might be just co incidence, what matters is the consequence.
The end result is we got wed. I think that fate accomplished.
The task that she set out to do, for you love me and I love you.
You don’t find love, love will find you but not until it’s ready to..
Monday,22 March 2010
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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No Regrets! ! !
Mindless jobs of long hours
Happiness nil, spirits sour
Work is critical, for dues n bills
Life so hard, in perpetual drill
Why it has so much to bear
Blessed only ones, but many despairs
Asking for more, losing moderations
Outlook to life needs contemplations
Happiness was there, always around us
Ignored it, indulged in petty wrong fuss
High earnings and status, we ran after
Were behind pace, so moved faster
The little pleasures of life were neglected
Happiness and life, were so disconnected
After the triumph when looked back
Found meaningless success, nothing intact
Still got time to clean things up
Every day brings new chance, fresh start ups
Life mustn't end in grieves and regrets
Lessons must be learned, Pattern require a reset.
poem by Samima Shah
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I'm not a company man.
Ghazal format
Some men strive hard chasing success
Whilst other men are content with less.
It all depends I must suppose.
On whom they're trying to impress.
I value self sufficiency
And use my time efficiently.
I choose to please myself.
There is no reason I can see.
For me to use my energy
Concentrating constantly.
Pursuing riches I don't need.
It simply makes no sense to me.
I understand that some will choose
To store up wealth they cannot use,
But that does not apply to me.
Because I know I can refuse.
To work for sixteen hours a day
I live my life a different way.
The company does not own me.
Though I work hard to earn my pay.
I spend time with my family.
Which I regard importantly.
There is much more to life than work.
I can state quite confidently.
I am contented with my lot.
I need no more than what I've got.
That is what success means to me.
My family first no matter what.
Wednesday,26 September 2012
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Conforming
I cannot unilaterally,
decide to do what pleases me.
How very easy life would be
if that was satisfactory.
Although it makes me furious.
I must confer, debate discuss
until it is unanimous.
I find it rather curious.
It seems your free will is not free.
Although you think it ought to be.
In order to live peacefully
as part of our society.
We have to voluntarily
place limits on our liberty.
05/11/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Sense and Sensitivity 2010
Sense and sensitivity.2010
Big city life is not for me.
Too many minds impinge on mine.
Broadcasting thoughts quite randomly
that have no purpose or design.
the broadcast thoughts though unaware
that other people can receive.
I find such chaos hard to bear.
I must raise barriers to achieve
the peace of mind for which I yearn.
Leaves me no choice I must return
to rural life and peacefulness.
Though city life is not for me.
It may suit you admirably.
Saturday,03 July 2010
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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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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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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Writers Block-Poppycock
I think that there will never be
A lack of wonders we can see.
For those of us prepared to look
in mother natures own scrap book.
We have the time to stand and stare
at beauty we find everywhere.
A flower where it should not be
inspires us to write poetry.
We poets are a special breed
and poetry fulfils our need.
To share the beauty we can see.
We choose our language carefully.
Creating images to share
with anybody anywhere.
Monday,26 July 2010
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Fantasy or Fact? for friend C.P Sharma
I am not dead nor do I live.
I hover somewhere in between
No explanation I can give
will prove to be sufficient to.
Describe exactly how I feel.
I long to stay but want to go.
To who or what do I appeal?
I am confused I do not know.
When I return to consciousness
and find I am myself again.
Gone is the sense of timelessness.
I am content and free from pain.
I knew deaths door was open wide
but knew my family needed me.
I did not choose to step inside.
It could have been a fantasy.
I’m sure some few will understand
but only those who have been there.
Most will dismiss it out of hand.
Though not because they do not care.
They simply cannot comprehend
they lack the sensitivity.
To know that death can be a friend
who is prepared to set you free.
But in the end the choice is yours.
It is your life you must decide
which would be the better course.
To just give up or to abide.
I don’t remember which I chose
but obviously I am still here.
I must have chosen I suppose.
But on that point I am not clear.
I can remember vividly
The doctors crowding round my bed
Whilst I was floating happily
and watching from above their heads..
Fantasy or reality
I do not know but I am sure
That it has wrought a change in me
that’s permanent and will endure.
No longer will I fear to die.
I know that death is not the end.
I am quite sure but know not why.
My enemy is now my friend.
I know that death will set me free
When my time comes then I will go
Released from my earthly body.
Towards a future I can’t know.
22/10/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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A whole new ball game.
The time had come for me to go and leave the world of work behind
I was not sure, did not know how I would occupy my mind
To fill the long hours of the day. I knew some things I’d like to try.
But work had left small time for play and now there s was no reason why.
My times my own an I am free to try my hand at something new
from pottery to poetry and that is what I mean to do.
It may seem strange but now I find there are too few hours in the day.
To do the things I have in mind. I look at life a different way.
Retirement wrought a change in me I do the thing I want to do
I have no one to please but me. Something you can look forward to.
When you too leave the world of work behind. You’ll be too busy to regret.
The years you spent as a wage slave you’ll be quite happy to forget.
19-Jul-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Future Imperfect for friend Ben
The world today is in a dreadful mess.
No one accepts responsibility.
It seems that truth and honour matter less
than expedience apparently.
The only thing we value is success
although it’s been achieved dishonestly
The values which our forbears knew are lost
and everyone of us will bear the cost.
Ottavo Rima
23/08/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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