Esmerald for J.T.Earley.
She danced as though she was possessed.
Perhaps she was I do not know.
Her heels beat out a staccato.
I have to say she was the best
exponent of the flamenco
that I have seen or hope to see.
She became part of the flow
went with the music totally.
Although it was so long ago.
I still recall it vividly.
A memory I won’t let go.
until the day they bury me.
Still in my minds eye I can see
the gypsy dancing wantonly.
2-May-0
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Recollections for friend T'J Becker
The butter lamps cast a soft glow.
As chanting monks in unison
their voices blending come and go
to raise their morning orison.
And thus begins another day
that’s filled with studying and prayer
As these devotees seek the way
The motive which has brought them there.
Although their faith I do not share.
I can share their serenity
Which permeates the very air.
A scene which still entrances me
I can recall it vividly
from memory so easily.
16-Sep-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Dancing Words for Friend Mark Slaughter
There’s more to writing poetry,
than choosing your words carefully.
Selecting words you know will rhyme.
You must consider too the time
the beat your words will be dancing to
In just the way you want them too
.The rhythm furnished by the meter
helps your words to flow much sweeter.
The basic rules you have to learn
so you can teach them in your turn
To other poets who are new
and do not know as much as you.
The feedback which you will receive
will satisfy you I believe.
3-Mar-09
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Most Unfair for M lady Ernestine
The Duchess danced delightfully.
The Duke was cursed with two left feet.
Whilst she was dancing gracefully
the Duke would simply drink and eat.
She kept her figure trim with ease
She defied the advancing years
The Duke quite frankly was obese
oblivious to disgusted stares.
The Duchess died at sixty one
why this should be a mystery
The fat old Duke just carried on
still going strong at ninety three.
I think this simply goes to show.
When your time’s up you have to go.
30-May-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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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Gypsy Woman
From nowhere through the caravan
Round the campfire light
Lovely woman in motion
With hair as dark as night
Her eyes were like that of a cat in the dark
That hypnotized me with love
She was a gypsy woman
She was a gypsy woman
She was a gypsy woman
She was a gypsy woman
She was a gypsy woman
She danced around and round
Guitars melody
From the fire her face was aglow
How she enchanted me
Id like to hold her near
And kiss her hair and whisper in her ear
I love you gypsy woman
I love you gypsy woman
I love you gypsy woman
I love you gypsy woman
All through the caravan
She was dancing with all the men
Waiting for the rising sun
Everyone was having fun
Hated to see her go
Knowing that shell never know
That I love her
That I love her
I love you gypsy woman
I love you gypsy woman
I love you gypsy woman
I love you gypsy woman
Whoever compared it to part monkey part man hit the nail on the head. it has that same kind of dark, mysterious sound. the vocals are soft and understated, somewhat reminiscent to those on if I should fall behind or pony boy. the song is sung with that nasally twang bruce has grown so fond of lately.
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Krystallnacht 1938
I fear the sound of booted feet.
They inspire painful memories
though fragmented and incomplete
I can recall so vividly
The sound of breaking glass and boots.
I was too young to understand
the screaming jeers and gleeful hoots.
As storm troopers took full command
and attacked Jewish properties.
Without restraint from anyone
protestors beaten to their knees.
All semblance of the law had gone.
November nineteen thirty eight
The Nazis had proscribed the Jews
the ninth a night of spite and hate.
Who lost all that they had to lose..
My parents sent me to the States
a privilege for which they had to pay
with everything they had. It grates
upon me still that I survived.
because of their self sacrifice.
The guilt I feel still eats away
because they paid the final price.
I know I am alive today.
Because some cousins took me in
and raised me as American.
Although I was but distant kin
Though I would rather not, I can
recall that night so long ago.
The cries of men in agony
how much is true I do not know.
In dreams I see so vividly
The dreadful scenes I did not see
deeply etched in memory.
A turning point in history.
affecting my whole world and me.
I was a child of only eight
The Nazis killed my family
Though I was saved I had to wait
Til we defeated Germany.
To know for certain they were dead
along with many millions more.
The sound of boots fills me with dread.
I’m glad I can’t remember more.
Now I have children of my own
a fit old man of seventy.
I wonder If I could have shown
their courage which would send me free.
To strangers in a far off land
where they decided I would be
safer. I think I can understand
their only thought was to save me.
I wonder where it all began
I see no reason for it still.
Mans inhumanity to man
and don’t suppose I ever will.
30-Nov-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Faded photograph
A snapshot taken years ago.
Somewhat lacking clarity.
Of some young guys I used to know
In fact the skinny one is me.
The other two I can recall,
their faces well but not their names
Although I try nothing at all.
My memory is playing games
I wonder where they are today
I wonder if they remember me
The passing years erode away
your memories ability.
To regain any access to
some things you know that you once knew
Monday,13 February 2012
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Dancin round & round
(adam mitchell)
Im gonna go out tonight
Gonna feel alright
If it tears me right in two
cause I just cant stay feeling this way
With a heart thats full of you
Im gonna go right down
To a part of town
Where Ive never been before
And in some small place
Find a brand new face
And step out on the floor
And Ill be dancing round and round
And Ill be satisfied if I can just hold my ground
And if he helps me to keep your memory down
Ill be dancing round and round
Well you put some distance round you
I know I meant to see
Theres a space inside for someone
But I know it isnt me
So among the boys who are searching
And the girls who hope theyre found
If you look for me, Im the one youll see
Whos dancing round and round
And Ill be dancing round and round
And Ill be satisfied if I can just hold my ground
And if he helps me to keep your memory down
Ill be dancing round and round
Come on music, wash my tears away
Come on darkness, cover up the day
Dancing round and round
And Ill be satisfied if I can just hold my ground
And if he helps me to keep your memory down
Ill be dancing round and round
Ill be dancing round and round
song performed by by Olivia Newton-John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Past Participant for M lady Ernestine
Though it may seem I am obsessed.
The truth is that I am possessed
by an old writer long since dead.
Who now resides inside my head
He’ll have no truck with modern verse
and thinks that free form is perverse.
That’s something with which I agree,
perhaps that’s why he’s chosen me
To be his slave, his to command
he doesn’t seem to understand
He is a most unwelcome guest
at best I see him as a pest.
He may be Shakespeare as he says
but I write poetry not plays.
8-May-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Gypsy Woman
(curtis mayfield)
From out of nowhere, through a caravan, around the campfire light
Came a lovely woman in motion with hair as dark as night
Her eyes were like those of a cat in the dark
And she hypnotized me with love
She was a gypsy woman
She danced around and round to guitar melody
From the fire her face was all aglow
How she enchanted me
How Id love to hold her near
And kiss and forever whisper in her ear
I love you gypsy woman
I want you gypsy woman
I need you gypsy woman
Just got to have a gypsy woman
All through the caravan, she was dancing with all the men
Waiting for the rising sun, everyone was having fun
I hate to see the lady go, knowing shell never know
That I love her, I love her
I love you gypsy woman
I want you gypsy woman
I need you gypsy woman
Just got to have a gypsy woman
song performed by by Ry Cooder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Who Knows for J T Earley
Who Knows
I wonder where muses reside.
Externally or deep inside
some remote corner of the brain.
A quiet spot where they can gain
full access to your memories.
Which they manipulate with ease,
inserting things you could not know.
About events too long ago
for you to possibly recall.
The screaming of a minie ball
as butternut fought with blue grey.
As if you heard it yesterday.
Is my muse an entity
who has her own identity.
Or just another part of me
which can act independently.
Forgive me if I seem confused
sometimes I think I’m being used
Who really writes my poetry
is it my muse or is it me.
4-Jul-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Dancin' In The Streets (live)
Hey, comin' out around the world be ready for a brand new beat
Oh, summer's here and the time is right, oh, for dancing in the street
Dancing in Chicago (dancing in the street)
Down in New Orleans (dancing in the street)
In New York City (dancing in the street)
All we need is music, sweet music (sweet, sweet music)
They'll be music everywhere (everywhere)
They'll be laughing, singing, music swinging and dancing in the street
It doesn't matter what you wear just as long as you are there
They're dancing (dancing in the street) oh oh
This is an invitation across the nation the chance for folks to meet
There'll be swinging, swaying, music playing and dancing in the street
Philadelphia, PA now (dancing in the street)
Baltimore and D.C. (dancing in the street)
Can't forget them other cities (dancing in the street
song performed by by Grateful Dead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The birth of poetry for M lady Mary Gordley
The birth of poetry.
Before the advent of the written word.
When all knowledge was passed on orally.
then history relied on memory.
Men had to memorise all that they heard
Perhaps this was the birth of poetry.
The tribal elders found they could recall
in simple rhyming verses best of all.
Easily committed to memory.
Long, long before recorded history.
The elders chose and trained one man to be
The current guardian of their legacy
of knowledge they had garnered carefully.
When all knowledge was passed on orally
Then history relied on memory
Poetic piers
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12-May-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Last Request
I want no marble monument
erected in my memory
I’m sure that I would lie content
beneath the branches of a tree.
Ignore established precedent
when it is time to bury me.
Remember all the hours we spent
living and loving happily.
Pay me the supreme compliment.
Let my body nourish a tree.
Creating something permanent
a thing of natural beauty.
I can trust you above the rest
to carry out my last request.
Monday,26 July 2010
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Access Denied
Ofttimes enwrapt in reverie
I have a distant memory
but I cannot be sure it’s true
Of my mother who I barely knew.
She died so very long ago.
There is so much I do not know
I only know what I’ve been told
and that recedes as I grow old.
Although I try I can’t recall
her face: bring it to mind at all.
I feel I should be able to
but there is nothing I can do.
Sometimes I wake to find I’ve wept.
But I can do nothing but accept.
That time’s erased the memory
of the face I long to see.
Some faded photographs remain
which I look at, try to regain.
The memories I have repressed
It may be that it’s for best.
I was so young when mother died.
My wants and needs were satisfied.
By father and the family
and I grew up quite happily.
Would mother have been proud of me?
I she’d lived long enough to see.
The man her little boy grew into.
My mother who I barely knew.
Then I remember guiltily
my mother lost much more than me.
The grandchildren she’d never know
the chance to see her children grow.
But I still pursue selfishly
that one elusive memory.
That’s buried somewhere deep inside
A need that can’t be satisfied.
Perhaps because I’m growing old
and only have what I was told
to remember mother by.
I know I’ll fail but I still try.
24/07/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Dancing In The Streets
Hey, comin out around the world be ready for a brand new beat
Oh, summers here and the time is right, oh, for dancing in the street
Dancing in chicago (dancing in the street)
Down in new orleans (dancing in the street)
In new york city (dancing in the street)
All we need is music, sweet music (sweet, sweet music)
Theyll be music everywhere (everywhere)
Theyll be laughing, singing, music swinging and dancing in the street
It doesnt matter what you wear just as long as you are there
Theyre dancing (dancing in the street) oh oh
This is an invitation across the nation the chance for folks to meet
Therell be swinging, swaying, music playing and dancing in the street
Philadelphia, pa now (dancing in the street)
Baltimore and d.c. (dancing in the street)
Cant forget them other cities (dancing in the street)
song performed by by Grateful Dead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Grown men do cry
Old memories which linger still.
Can bring the tear drops to my eyes
Sometimes they take me by surprise
and cause my tears to freely spill.
I’m not afraid to say they do.
There is no reason I should be.
My memories both old and new
are an integral part of me.
Sometimes they’re tears of happiness
and I am smiling through my tears.
Though other tears recall sadness
that I have suffered through the years.
Old memories reminding me
of joy and sorrow equally.
Monday,09 November 2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Saving grace for M'ladyAnn Beard
Moonlight on the water glowing gently. As the tide out flowing
leaves silver traces on the sand. I think that now I understand,
the feeling of serenity. Which quickly flooded over me.
From being lonely and depressed I felt as though I had been blessed.
Bathed in the Goddess’ radiance I was given a second chance.
To be who I was meant to be, that peaceful night beside the sea.
I can recall it vividly. It was a peak experience
I still hold her in reverence.Although I have no evidence.
to prove to you my words are true do not feel that I need to.
Unless touched by the Goddess’ hand you simply would not understand
So I began my life anew because the Goddess bid me to.
The goddess cares for her children, she gave me confidence again.
I know that I can make the grade I face the future unafraid.
19-Dec-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Summers Day stroll
She wore a simple summer dress
Her arms and legs were brown and bare
What stole my heart I must confess,
the red/gold beauty of her hair.
Which rippled like a waterfall
caressed by every passing breeze.
Formed round her head an aureole
a sight that could not fail to please.
A poet with an artist’s eye
for that is what I claim to be
I did but see her passing by
but I remember vividly.
She looked so young and innocent
I looked my fill and was content
I do not think that she saw me
but if she did she would have seen.
An old man strolling aimlessly
An old grey haired worn out has been.
She looked at me unseeingly.
Much too engrossed or so it seemed
to spare a single glance for me.
I formed no part of what she dreamed.
She was still young and so naïve.
She thinks that youthful dreams come true.
But I am old and don’t believe
I know they very seldom do.
So I continued on my way
and left her wrapt in reverie
This pretty girl had made my day.
Albeit quite unknowingly.
Although I’m old I still recall
when dreaming mattered most of all.
10-May-08
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Double Sonnet
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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