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Which never becomes out of date.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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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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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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Singular Duality for M lay Catrina
The moon against the blue black night
A symbol of serenity
Bathes the world with silver light
a touch of surreality.
Far different to the world by day
which has no time for fantasy
The boring hum drum everyday
view of the world that most folks see.
The moonlight stimulates our dreams.
The interplay of light and shade
where nothing is quite as it seems.
The stuff of which all dreams are made.
The silver moon light can create
a moving tapestry of dreams
Produce in us a trance like state
and blend together without seams
reality and fantasy
Two worlds existing side by side
the moon somehow mysteriously
their difference can override.
I seize each opportunity
to see the shadows as they dance.
The moonlit night providing me
the time and place and circumstance.
26/04/2009
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Changing perceptions for Friend Thad
The sun shines on the frozen snow.
Where ice crystals refract the light
The primal colours come and go.
Add fleeting beauty to the white.
When nightfall brings to end the day.
No pretty colours can be seen.
Just shifting shadows blue and grey.
which make a sad depressing scene
though soon the silver moon will rise.
Her gentle beams chase the shadows.
Revealing only snow and ice
which in the moonlight softly glows.
The beauty shows by day or night
Quite independent of the light.
Saturday,15 May 2010
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Frost filigrees for M 'lady Ernestine
The first frost paints the window panes
with filigrees of silver white
The artist takes the greatest pains
to ensure that he gets it right.
Though very sad it’s also true.
His artistry is all in vain,
it only lasts an hour or two
before the glass is clear again.
We can enjoy it for a while.
That is what we’re meant to do.
Tomorrow in his usual style
he will have painted it anew.
A different pattern put on show
created there on my window.
28-Oct-08
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Nocturnal artistry for M lady Ann Beard
Nocturnal artistry
The frost adds glitter to the grass.
Which stands erect like silver spears.
Transient beauty which will pass.
The suns rays make them disappear.
Lacy designs on window glass.
More delicate than human art
We’d like to keep them but alas.
WE must accept they will depart.
When morning breaks the sun will rise
Undo the efforts of Jack Frost
which we expect it’s no surprise.
Though we bemoan the beauty lost.
Tonight Jack Frost will paint again
his patterns on each window pane.
Sunday,13 December 2009
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Appreciative Audience.
Soft moonlight filters through the trees
Which seem to dance to melodies
Created by the gentle breeze.
The shadows on the ground dance too
Or to my eyes they appear to
Disintegrate then form anew.
Sometimes the clouds blot out the light
The shadows gain a brief respite.
Rejoin the darkness of the night.
But clouds move on and when they do
And once again moonlight shows through.
The trees will dance, the shadows too.
The sun will rise to start the day.
The dancing shadows hide away
But where they hide no man can say.
The sun completes his daily quest.
Journeying from east to west.
Then sinks below the sea to rest.
The moon will rise she rules the night
Then once again to my delight
She bathes the trees in silver light.
The melodies played by the breeze
Will re awake the sleeping trees.
To dance again with practiced ease.
Beneath the trees reluctantly
the shadows still dance gracefully.
I watch in silence gratefully.
I know they do not dance for me
And I am privileged to see
The shadows dance under the trees.
Friday,23 September 2011
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Simplocity appeals to me for M lady Catrina
All I can see from my window.
A vast expanse of fallen snow,
Unmarked as yet by wheel or feet
As perfect as a laundered sheet.
Reflecting back the pale moonlight
in shades of silver blue and white.
This will not last it cannot do
it will marred by tyre and shoe.
At first light when the morning breaks
and all the sleeping world awakes
To make their way reluctantly
to office shop and factory.
Although the falling snow has stopped
the temperature still has not dropped
The snow will turn from white to gray
and very slowly melt away
Just for tonight the pristine white
will satisfy my appetite
for unadorned simplicity
There’s beauty in austerity.
22-Dec-08
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Demystified for M' lady Cate
The mist persists, it will insist
it has the right to block the light
with trailing wisps of dirty white.
The mist is wrong and it will learn
to leave when it has served its turn
Because the sun will rise and burn
the remnants of the mist away
There is no way that it can stay
once the bright sun comes out to play.
The mist defeated has to go.
It leaves reluctantly and slow
but where it goes I do not know.
It will return with fall of night
lurk in the darkness hid from sight.
Unless outlined by the moonlight.
The silver light makes it appear
to be the ghosts which cause men fear.
But they will quickly disappear
When banks of cloud obscure the light.
Be re-absorbed into the night.
to their dismay but men’s delight.
The mists persist they wont desist
as long as day and night exist
and if they did they would be missed.
The moisture which the mist supply
the plants trees drink thirstily.
Without the mists some plants would die.
1-Jun-08
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A Poor Attempt
The water mill beside the stream, highlighted by a stray moonbeam.
Which adds an abstract quality, a touch of surreality.
To the scene which I can see and makes it extraordinary
The stream is deep and strong but slow and turns the paddles from below.
The droplets falling from the wheel to any poets eyes appeal
Reflecting light prismatically in rainbow colours flying free.
They join the moon light in a dance of ever changing radiance
Sadly dark clouds obscure the moon; the show is ended all too soon.
My soul is soothed and satisfied, although the dark clouds came to hide
the beauty which I saw displayed.The memories will never fade.
I can recall them vividly and in my minds eye I still see
the wondrous scene I saw tonight. An interplay of dark and light.
I try my best to share with you the beauty that I had in view.
Though I’m afraid I lack the skill despite the fact I have the will.
I am quite sure you’ll understand, I’m just a man I can’t command
the words I write to show to you, the fleeting beauty that I knew..
22-Nov-08
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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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Transient for M'lady Denise
A rain dropp sparkles in the sun
Refracting light prismatically.
Primary colours every one
collectively and separately
Though in itself quite colourless,
It can convert white light into.
Any colour more or less
A most impressive range of hues.
Sadly the magic cannot last
The raindropp will evaporate.
The present will become the past.
This is not open to debate.
There is no room for argument.
Rain drops are always transient
Tuesday,29 June 2010
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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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Natural Progression for M'lady Catrina
Natural Progression.
A amidst the green a flash of red
and here and there a golden tone
The summertime has swiftly sped.
Now Autumn comes to reign alone.
Her reign is short but beautiful
The trees adopt their party dress
the brilliant colours wonderful.
Well calculated to impress.
Soon wintry gales will strip the trees
denude them of their finery.
Until this happens they will please
students of nature’s artistry.
And then revert to black and white
to some photographers delight.
21/09/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Mind Control.
Mind control
Pantoum form
She dreamt a dream within a dream.
A lucid dream she could control
She chose the pace she chose the theme
In order to achieve her goal.
A lucid dream she could control.
Every detail was designed,
to blend together seamlessly.
Such was the power of her mind.
To blend together seamlessly.
A demonstration of her skill.
She succeeded effortlessly.
She exercised her sovereign will.
A demonstration of her skill.
Which she had earned by studying
She exercised her sovereign will
By her control of everything.
She chose the pace she chose the theme
She dreamt a dream within a dream.
Tuesday,30 November 2010
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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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Black & white and shades of grey.
The curfew marks the fading of the light.
Now is the time when shadows congregate.
In hidden corners where they wait.
To welcome eagerly the fall of night.
Although by daylight forced to hide from sight.
The fall of darkness sets the shadows free
To go about their business secretly.
The quiet hours when the shadows claim their right.
But dawn will come and with the dawn daylight.
The shadows then are forced to hide away.
Throughout the day, to wait impatiently
Counting the hours until the fall of night.
Though where the shadows hide no man can say
With any degree of accuracy.
Tuesday,07 February 2012
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Attitudes.
The moon sheds soft and silver light
upon the newly fallen snow
A master piece for our delight.
The city folk will never know.
The snow that falls on city streets.
Is all too soon polluted by
the footprints left by passing feet.
In cities different rules apply.
Country folk accept the snow
They know there’s little they can do
but wait. In time the snow must go.
Something to look forward to.
But city folk impatiently
Demand the streets should be snow free.
Wednesday,06 January 2010
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Foiled by beauty for M'lady Sally plumb
A spider web bedecked with dew.
The early morning sun shines through.
Creates a tapestry of light.
A work of art in its own right.
Because the sparkling dew negates.
The spider webs efficiency.
Until the sun evaporates
the morning dew sufficiently
The spider must wait patiently
until at last she breaks her fast
Flies tangled inextricably
in the sticky threads she cast.
The spider builds instinctively.
A trap we aren’t supposed to see.
As long as it is visible
It’s totally impossible.
For the silken trap to do
(It is designed to be unseen)
The task it is intended to.
But for the dew it would have been.
Although it’s pleasing to our eyes
We know it isn’t meant to be
It’s obvious to passing flies
who can avoid it easily.
The hungry spider would prefer
to do without the morning dew.
Which seems intent to deprive her
of fat flies which are her due.
The spider’s loss is our gain
We see the transient beauty.
Which we may never see again.
If only temporarily.
The spider web bedecked with dew
To us a source of great delight
Created each morning anew
by dew drops reflecting sun light.
Although the spider breakfasts late.
There’s little doubt she will survive.
I’m sure she will appreciate
her breakfast when it does arrive.
Tuesday,08 March 2011
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Reading light for M lady Ernestine
Silver moonlight illuminates
small garden plots and vast estates.
It does not differentiate.
Between the low born and the high.
The gentle ruler of the sky
treats all her children equally.
The goddess demonstrates her care
Each one receives their rightful share.
She has enough and love to spare..
I have to read by candle light
on nights when there is no moonlight.
Though not tonight the moon is bright.
Moonlight is absolutely free
and it is bright enough to see.
To read or write my poetry.
I hear you say that’s nothing new.
You often write by moonlight too.
Perhaps because most poets do.
27/07/2009
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