Familiarity breeds contempt.
The psychedelic neon signs.
A visual insanity.
Create intricate designs
that linger momentarily.
They are designed to catch the eye
which they did successfully.
Illuminating passers by
in garish colours constantly.
We can ignore them easily.
They have become familiar.
part of our past history.
We have become particular.
Their garish colours are a bore
they don’t intrigue us any more.
Friday,18 February 2011
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Enduring beauty for M'ladyCatherine Rica Coso
From bare black twigs against the sky.
Transformed by spring to blossoms white.
To me a more than welcome sight.
Which alas too soon will die.
But in their place new greenery
Leaves seem to unfurl overnight
in shades of green which catch sunlight
Add lustre to the scenery.
The leaves will last the summer long.
Before they don their autumn dress
in garish colours to impress
The winds which sing the winters song.
The trees return to nakedness
Retaining beauty none the less.
31-May-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Self justification.
It’s not so easy to forget.
The things we did which we regret
Though if we try we may succeed
in justifying every deed.
Convince ourselves we had no choice
Ignore the inner nagging voice.
Which reminds us constantly.
We did what we did willingly.
We know when we indulged our lust
that we betrayed another’s trust.
We did not see it as a crime
and we enjoyed it at the time.
Although in time we realise
that our excuses are all lies.
Friday,21 January 2011
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Entranced for Grandaughter Chitra
I saw two rainbows intertwine
their colours were identical.
Together forming a design
which I found doubly beautiful.
I’ve often seen a single bow
they’re not at all unusual.
A band of pastel colours show
delicately ethereal.
But never had I seen before
two rainbow arches in the sky
Two matching bands of colours soar
across the sky majestically.
I stood entranced by what I saw.
What philistine could ask for more.
05/04/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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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
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12-May-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Night visions
I do not fear the dark, my eyes
adjust so that I can see.
The beauties which would otherwise
be hidden by the night from me.
To walk abroad alone by night
seems only natural to me
Quite different from brighter light
the sun provides consistently.
It is a different world by night
the garish colours of the day.
Have been replaced by black and white
as beautiful in their own way.
As anything you see by day
The muted colours softening
harsh outlines in a subtle way
Moving shadows intertwining.
Produce in me serenity
A mood the quietness inspires
I stroll enwrapped in reverie
as often as my heart desires
I can look back nostalgically
recalling how thing used to be
or look ahead and try to see
what the future holds for me.
I see the darkness as a friend
For me it holds no mystery
I know for sure I can depend
upon the quiet night to be.
A time when I can meditate
and view my world quite differently.
Which will let me appreciate
all of the beauty which I see.
Although some people fear the night
and find the silence frightening.
To walk by night is my delight
I find the quietness soothing.
11-Oct-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Transfiguration.
Transfiguration?
The sunset was spectacular
Transforming the familiar
Sights which I am accustomed to
Into a very different view.
The slated roofs no longer grey
But changing with the interplay
Reflected colours from the sky
which blend and merge then multiply.
Creating a surreal beauty
Which hides the stark reality
That I am faced with every day.
Monotony in black and grey.
I watch until the colours fade.
Reluctantly I draw the shade.
Wednesday,18 January 2012
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Where do they go? for M'lady Denise
A sky layered in lavender,
old rose and streaks of gold that glow.
Against approaching indigo
as night accepts day’s surrender.
The sun descends into the sea.
His task complete it’s time to rest.
As night achieves a slow conquest.
The colours will fade gradually
Tomorrow morning with the dawn
The pastel colours will return,
The Sun will rise to take his turn.
As in the east new day's born.
Where do the pretty colours go?
when darkness reigns. I do not know.
Saturday,03 July 2010
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Autumnal Thoughts for M'lady Ernestine.
The days grow short and shorter still
The evenings hold a hint of chill.
The sun goes early to his rest.
The time approaches I love best
When natures shows her artistry
abandoning propriety
To suit her autumn madcap mood.
She is determined that she should
Use every shade in her palette.
Create a sight you can’t forget
and she succeeds so easily.
By making certain every tree.
Will don their autumn finery
Their gaudy colours pleasing me
Wednesday,27 October 2010
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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On Death
John Keats.
Can death be sleep, when life is but a dream?
and scenes of bliss pass as a phantom by.
The transient pleasures as a vision seem
and yet we think the greatest pain’s to die.
Glosa a tribute
Can death be sleep when life is but a dream.
The final dreamless sleep which grants us rest
.Or better yet part of some greater scheme
which guarantees we all find release.
From misery which seems always to increase
and scenes of bliss pass as a phantom by
on flying feet as if they’re loath to cease
their swift progress momentarily.
They pass as swiftly as a stray sunbeam
which penetrates through cloudy skies of gray.
The transient pleasures as a vision seem
a sign of hope that quickly fades away.
Why is that we suffer constantly
It may well be death sets us free to fly
towards the light where we are meant to be
.And yet we think the greatest pain’s to die.
7-Sep-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Lady in waiting.2011
I live alone, my family
and all my friends are long since gone.
There’s no one left who cares for me.
Others have problems of their own.
I’ve had my share of happiness
and known the depths of misery.
My life now seems to matter less.
So I am waiting patiently.
For death to come and set me free.
Each night I pray I will not wake..
I think that death’s forgotten me
just overlooked me by mistake.
I’d welcome death quite happily
but even deaths abandoned me.
Friday,18 February 2011
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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A passing thought.
An optimistic pessimist.
An oxymoron without doubt
and yet such crazy thoughts persist.
Something for me to think about.
As I consider carefully.
A pessimist who hopes he’s right
is thinking optimistically.
Though what that proves I do not know.
Except I think it could be so.
Though everybody won’t agree.
Thursday,21 January 2010.
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Transition for M 'Lady Ann Beard
Alone, afraid in sore distress
I know not where I am or why.
My recent memories suppressed
I can’t remember though I try
I can’t be seen apparently
invisible to passers by.
They pause but momentarily.
I rack my brains and wonder why.
The very last thing I recall
is waiting for an omnibus.
Then all is blank nothing at all.
I find it very curious.
The streets are unfamiliar
I don’t think I’ve been here before.
I should have gone by motorcar.
I’m not sure what I’m looking for.
I wander slowly, aimlessly
With no idea what I should do
it is a total mystery
to which I have no slightest clue.
Why is it no one can see me?
or hear a single word I say.
It is as if I’d ceased to be.
I feel an urge I must obey.
I’m suddenly transported to
the last place that I can recall.
I have no choice but to review
my aging body slip and fall.
A victim of a heart attack.
Dead before I hit the ground.
The memories come flooding back.
I know I have my answer found.
I realise that I am dead
that’s why nobody can see me
nor hear a single word I’ve said.
I don’t exist substantially.
Though I have changed I am still me
in spirit form adapted to
a different reality
from that my worn out body knew.
13-Apr-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Least said soonest mended
Least said soonest mended
I am condemned to wonder why
I cannot make an apt reply.
When someone has insulted me.
I find I can quite easily
but only when it is too late
Why can’t I just retaliate?
when someone has insulted me.
At the time immediately.
Perhaps I’m taken by surprise
perhaps because I am too wise.
When someone has insulted me
to take the insult seriously.
Though I must say in self defence
I am not quick to take offence
when some one has insulted me
I hold on to my dignity.
I will not be an easy mark
to be hurt by some chance remark.
Perhaps they weren’t insulting me
but merely meant to disagree
I simply smile and let it go
I do not really want to know.
If they were insulting me.
It hasn’t worked as they can see.
20-Aug-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Seeress
I cast the runes: Then carefully
consider what they signify
The different patterns I can see.
I can’t be sure but I can try.
Interpretation is a skill
which operates subconsciously.
Sometimes it’s guided by my will
but not always successfully.
I try to forecast honestly
but do not claim that I am right.
Some things I see will come to be
and some will not but others might.
I cast the runes and concentrate.
Throw wide the portals of my mind.
Receptive in my trancelike state.
I set my spirit free to find.
The answers which I seek to know
which are concealed from mortal eyes.
Interpretations come and go.
I can’t be sure which one is best.
So I select the probable
which seems to fit the question best.
But I am not infallible
I’m only human like the rest.
I do not charge you any fee.
To use the talents I possess
and always warn you clearly
At best my answer is a guess.
2-Sep-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Confident? for M lady Lucianne
Do you dare to be different
And raise your voice when you dissent?
Or do just go with the flow.
Far too afraid to make a show
of the fact you disagree.
Why not speak out confidently
Why should you follow someone who
you are quite sure knows less than you.
Or are you just a follower
like other folks who much prefer.
To be told what they should do.
Because it is much easier to
than refusing their assent,
and daring to be different.
16-Oct-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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The Colours Of Love
The colours of love,
The colours of unity,
The colours of peace,
The colours of humility,
the colours of care,
The colours of passion,
The colours of romance,
The colours of the mind,
The colours of your works,
The colours of mankind;
But, let true love come out from your heart!
For, in peace and unity we have to live on this earth together:
Than, the bullets of war that divides us always! ! !
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Brief Encounter
Proud tomcats prowl when twilight falls
and fill the air with caterwauls.
They loudly boast of their prowess.
In their vain efforts to impress.
The pampered queens protected by
Owners determined to deny.
Fulfilment of the Tom cats dreams.
Successfully or so it seems.
But now and then a pampered queen.
Manages to escape unseen.
They can't resist the urge to mate.
Their owners find out far too late.
Their pampered pet undoubtedly
Is showing signs of pregnancy.
Thursday,09 February 2012
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Honest Politician for Friend Thad
Self confidence is often found
where it cannot be justified.
In naïve fools who love the sound
of their own voices, full of pride.
Oft in the young an arrogant.
We can forgive them easily
but when the politicians rant.
We listen to them warily.
All of their florid verbiage,
we disregard we know they lie
Their promises mere persiflage
which when elected they deny,
So vote for me an honest man
I’m out to get all that I can.
My honesty makes me unique
I want to board the gravy train.
You can believe these words I speak
Because I state I hope to gain
a seat which will entitle me.
to pursue my own interests.
Claim my expenses easily
for M.P.s there are no means tests.
I can employ my relatives
and claim back their salaries.
The art of nepotism lives
So vote for me I ask you please.
I do not promise that I will do
anything at all for you.
2-Jun-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Fleeting Impressions.
Fleeting Impressions.
Soft silver moonbeams passing through.
A stained glass window in the night.
Are guaranteed to turn into
An abstract picture to delight.
Those who can appreciate.
A different form of artistry
Which never becomes out of date.
But remains contemporary.
The way the colours merge and blend
The interplay of light and shade
The constant changes will not end.
Until the sun announces a new day
When daylight breaks the moonlight goes
Back where it came from I suppose.
Tuesday,29 November 2011
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Black Silver
Silver is the mirror,
Where colours cannot run
From one into another
For silver it has none
Silver is a blackness
Which defies pure light to come
And when it does reflects it
Its image still as one
So that when you look upon it
Your face it will become
Not in silver, but the colours,
With which your face does run
Then with your world behind you
By light reflected one
Not in blackness, but in colours
You are colours of the sun
All mirrors do remind us
That colour is the light
And that they do not see us
In the darkness of the night
For colours are but energy
From the spectrum as it falls
On everything around us
Except, from silver balls
The colours of the rainbow
The colours in the sky
The colours of our galaxy
Are in a baby’s eye
Colours all around us
Enable us to see
That the world in which we live, is part of us,
Lifes chemistry
poem by Egal Bohen
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