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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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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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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Some things never change.
I do.
She said and so did I
We wed,
one Saturday in June.
We went
away on honeymoon.
A taste
of paradise for two.
We swore.
Each year we would renew.
The vows
we made when we were wed.
Today
though many years have flown.
We are
on honeymoon again
The kids
grown up and fled the nest.
Nothing
has changed we feel the same.
Our love
grew deeper day by day.
The same
hotel the same bedroom.
We had
reviving memories.
Although
We have raised a family.
We knew
all those years ago.
We would
return to paradise.
A dream
that would come true.
Today.
While watching the sun rise.
She said,
I love you so did I.
It’s true.
We were wiser than we knew.
When we
decided we should wed.
We two.
Were meant to be a pair.
Decreed
by fate: We still care.
The way
we did when we first wed.
She knows
its true and so do I.
Monday,15 March 2010
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Power Failure
Tonight I write by candle light
I am forced to by circumstance
Although the light is not too bright
I find that it gives me a chance.
To compare my life style today
with what I recall from my youth.
Reluctantly I have to say
If I should tell the honest truth
The simple life of yesteryear
may be a pleasant memory.
I much prefer my life today.
I need a brighter light to see
Advancing years have dimmed my sight
I dote upon electric light.
21-Nov-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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The nearness of you for MY Lady Irene,
Stray moonbeams are softly stealing, through my window and revealing.
Things I do not see by daylight. Odd ornaments which they highlight.
They trigger off old memories, not always guaranteed to please
Soft silver beams enable me to the past so vividly.
It is as if the years between which flew so fast had never been
But I can remember too the happy years I’ve spent with you.
You lie there sleeping peacefully I feel your love enfolding me.
The silver beams caress your face and lend to you an added grace
An aura of divinity. I do not need moonlight to see.
Perhaps mine is biased view because I.'m so in love with you
I look at you with lovers eyes and once again I realise.
How privileged I am to be watching you sleep peacefully
You reach your hand out sleepily I stroke it reassuringly.
I am content to simply be, lying beside you quietly.
The moonbeams leave before the dawn.Heralds a new day being born
My love for you won’t fade away its growing stronger every day.
Unlike the moon beams which must leave It is eternal I believe.
Monday,22 February 2010
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Day by Day
I think it is impossible
To recall ev’ryone you met
and also highly probable.
That some you’re happy to forget.
The first lover who broke your heart,
Imprinted deep in memory.
Though you suspected from the start,
this was a dream which could not be.
The petty boss that bullied you.
When you were young and powerless.
It’s odd but you recall him too.
Though not with any kindliness.
Yet good friends fade from memory
erased by quickly passing years
almost you’d think impossible,
You wonder if you’ve slipped from theirs.
Although you meant to keep in touch.
You never did too much to do.
I wonder does it matter
because they have forgotten too.
Par for the course I understand.
Although sometimes spontaneously
they come to mind; you can’t command
the actions of your memory.
The present matters not the past.
It is consigned to history,
the pace of life is far too fast.
To take time out for reverie.
We touch on others and affect
each other in some subtle way
That is the truth we must accept.
We really live from day to day.
1-Dec-08http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Home Away From Home
I walk down the small path
bordered either side by bluebells.
As I walk down the path
which I have done hundreds of times before.
There is a stirring in the trees,
which prompts my memories,
of faces that have come and gone
over the passing years.
Also comes back the laughter
that never seems to subside
and all the jokes
we’ve played on one another.
I smiled as I stopped for a moment
to look around at everything there.
It seems like only yesterday
that I came along here,
but in reality, the years have flown by.
Some faces I remember
will never be coming back to visit,
while the others I might see someday.
Even when the sad day comes
when I can’t come anymore.
I will leave with many photographs
in my memory store.
A few more steps I take
and the town comes into view
along with friendly faces
on the boardwalks there.
There are a few whose names I forget,
but the faces I know so well
in this little town
I call my home away from home.
15 February 2008
poem by David Harris
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Who was he? Welsh bardic form
Cywydd Llosgynrog.
I am forced to live alone
All those I knew long since gone.
There’s no one left who loves me.
This must be the penalty
I pay for longevity
It will be my turn soon
I am waiting patiently
Death will claim me finally
I will be happy to go.
There’ll be nothing left of me
but a fading memory
Which will be soon forgotten.
Thursday,11 February 2010
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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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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There ought to be! !
There ought to be! !
I’m paralysed and wheel chairbound.
Although I can still get around.
I cannot just go anywhere
Unless there’s access for my chair.
I am an independent man.
I try to do all that I can.
My home’s adapted to my need
Free access is guaranteed.
But when I face the world outside
I’m very rarely satisfied.
that people truly understand.
How hard it is when you are banned.
From places you would like to see.
There’s no access for folks like me
Tuesday,14 September 2010
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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I believe 2012
When moonlight filters through the trees.
I sometimes hear sweet melodies.
Carried towards me on the breeze.
Music guaranteed to please.
It comes from where the fairies dance.
I'm not afraid to take a chance.
To follow it and steal a glance.
Which would do nothing but enhance.
My belief that fairies do exist.
A fact that others may resist.
Despite the legend that persist.
Although I am a realist.
And not some dreaming fantasist.
I claim to be a pragmatist.
Wednesday,15 February 2012.
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Assayed and found wanting.
I saw a(lady) passing by
and I was very glad she passed
Everything about her was a lie.
Pure deception unsurpassed.
Despite the glances which she cast
in my direction hoping to.
Snare my attention hold me fast
She did not know how much I knew
about her somewhat shady past
.She only saw me as a male
who could be fooled from first to last
Her efforts were to no avail.
I can tell gold from common ore
because I have been fooled before.
Sunday,28 February 2010
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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At least that's my excuse. For J.T.Ellison
Fatigue sets in more quickly now.
As passing years catch up with you.
But circumstances will allow
A quick cat nap which can only do.
A recharge of your batteries.
So do not let it worry you.
You must conserve your energies.
For things you really want to do.
I have a snooze each afternoon
A habit which I cultivate
I consider it to be a boon.
There is nothing which cannot wait.
Retirement has set me free
from any sense of urgency.
Saturday,11 September 2010
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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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Global Warming? I think not.
Snow has fallen, snow on snow.
The temperatures remaining low.
There is no sign of any thaw,
In fact we are expecting more.
It’s snowing intermittently.
With intervals of weak sunshine
but it is freezing constantly.
With dread black ice the bottom line
A hazard for the traveller
who has no choice but has to go
Though most of them would much prefer
to stay at home out of the snow.
Authorities are struggling to
ensure the major roads are free
of snow to let the traffic flow.
Albeit very carefully.
Its more than thirty years ago.
Though some of us can still recall
the problems caused by heavy snow.
But memories don’t help at all.
We have to cope with here and now
and not what happened years ago.
We have to show that we know how
to overcome this winters snow.
We do not know when thaw will come
as it has always done before.
But we are sure we will welcome,
the sight of snow free roads once more.
Tuesday,05 January 2010
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Hard to bear. for M 'lady Tara
Moonlight on the water glimmers.
Highlighting the naked swimmers.
skinny dippers, just having fun
They do no harm to anyone..
It isn’t right the whingers cry,
who happen to be passing by.
It’s rude, it’s lewd, lascivious.
Perhaps because they’re envious.
They’d like to join in but don’t dare
display themselves completely bare.
Which probably is just as well
because as near as I can tell.
They’d add no beauty to the scene.
They’re grossly overweight: Obscene.
I have a different attitude
though I am old I am no prude.
If I was younger I would be
amongst them playing happily.
I used to enjoy swimming nude
I really wish that I still could.
Old age and disability
effectively preventing me
I cannot do what I used to do.
Though I can still enjoy the view.
27-Aug-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Freedom of choice.
I see God as a neutral force.
A universal power source,
which everyone has access to.
To do the things they choose to do.
It can be used for good or ill
according to the users will.
But like any power source
there’ll be a price to pay of course.
Be very careful how you use
The power that you’re free to choose.
It’s your responsibility.
You cannot claim to be blame free
For what you freely chose to do.
You’ll foot the bill when it falls due.
Sunday,27 February 2011
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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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Unfulfilled expectations
.
Three score years and ten: They say
is the life span of a man.
Though it’s no longer true today.
People have realised they can.
Defy the dire predictions
and need not die obediently.
To suit the statisticians.
I‘m fast approaching ninety three.
And still live independently.
Growing disgracefully
content to act rebelliously.
Although the statisticians all agree
I should have died long years ago.
Which proves how little that they know
28/04/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Waltz time for MY Lady Irene.
I
Hold you
In my arms.
We
begin
a slow waltz
One
two three
one two three.
I
ask you
to be mine.
You
Agree
Instantly.
We
both knew
without doubt.
You
love me
I love you.
We
will dance
together.
In
Perfect
Harmony.
As
we were
meant to do.
For
ever
and a day.
Monday,25 January 2010
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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