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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Pure prejudice
A prude regards all nudes as rude
unchanging in their attitude.
Which they perceive as rectitude.
A sign of their ineptitude
They cannot see as pulchritude
the naturalness of being nude.
The will allow no latitude,
just being bare to them is lewd.
It must be sad to be a prude.
Because they have misunderstood
that being nude need not be rude
It need be neither lewd nor crude
Reluctantly I must conclude
that once a prude always a prude.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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The Bare Facts.
.
The bride was totally undressed
The groom too had thought it best
To be nude on his wedding day.
The bride carried a small bouquet,
The best Man wore a beaming smile.
The bridesmaids too were in the nude.
Nude weddings have a certain style.
A very modern attitude.
The vicar too correctly dressed.
He wore a large pectoral cross.
We were all suitably impressed,
he had permission from his boss.
No need to buy a wedding dress
nor yet to hire a morning suit.
So the wedding cost much less.
Their economies had borne fruit.
They could afford a honeymoon
Though where they chose they would not say.
Bar that it cost a small fortune.
The savings they had made would pay.
The first wedding I have been to
Where nobody was overdressed.
and I have been to quite few.
I rate this as one of the best..
To prudes all nudity is rude
and so they chose to stay away.
Perhaps because they understood
their presence there would spoil the day.
Forgive me for this platitude.
They are entitled to their view.
I have a different attitude.
I was content to be bare too.
I wonder what the prudes conceal
Behind their vaunted piety.
What is it that they daren’t reveal.
Some hidden impropriety?
I do not think that being bare.
Is something that one should not do
I did not find it hard to bear
when everyone was naked too.
Each to his own I must suppose.
Whatever makes you comfortable.
Though usually I do wear clothes.
Sometimes nudity’s suitable.
Wednesday,17 March 2010
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Pecadillo fo Friend Thad
My Guardian Angel is a prude
she has a pious attitude.
I have a little devil too
who tries to persuade me to do.
The naughty things which are more fun.
But when all is said and done
it’s up to me I have free will.
And in the end I’ll foot the bill.
If I should choose to go astray
I know there’ll be a price to pay.
But some sins are well worth the price
a small foretaste of paradise.
You know what I’m referring to.
I am quite certain that you do.
28-Apr-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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Sheela Na Gig
Sheela na Gig immodest maid.
A symbol of fertility.
Although the Christian church forbade
.She still appears quite frequently.
Her effigies protected by
stern laws and heavy penalties.
The old beliefs refuse to die
to no one but the priests surprise.
Sheela na Gig with legs apart
displays her femininity.
Some think her crude but she’s a part
of Irelands ancient history.
If to your eye she appears lewd
I must conclude you are a prude.
16-Sep-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Reciprocity for Friend Thad
My image as a macho man.
Depends on leathers and tattoos
but if you choose to you can
see below the surface view.
The image you choose to project.
Serves the same purpose to protect,
the inner you from public view
You only show what you choose.
We all select a mask to wear
because we simply do not dare,
Display our insecurity
for each and everyone to see,
It’s not an easy thing to do.
But I can learn to remove the mask
when you have proved I can trust you
and answer all you care to ask.
But dare you do the same for me
and show you trust me equally.
Because my friend until you do
I cannot place my trust in you.
8-Aug-08
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And Why not for M 'lady Tara
On the outskirts of the city
There’s a place that’s very pretty.
A semi rural paradise
for those who can afford the price.
A small elite community
where the norm’s eccentricity.
If you should choose to garden nude
your neighbours would not think you rude.
The watchword here is tolerance
It would not rate a second glance
From neighbours who were passing by.
Although some might wonder why.
You choose to garden in the nude
because you want to they conclude.
28-Jun-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Day Off
A placid pool unruffled by
the slightest breeze reflects the sky.
The sky a cerulean blue
takes on a slightly darker hue.
Sometimes a fluffy cloud or two
will slowly drift into my view.
I sit beneath a shady tree.
I am content to simply be
an observer of the scene
and draw comparisons between.
The peaceful pool and the clear sky.
Its not my place to wonder why.
I am relaxing happily
exactly where I want to be.
02/07/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Guardians of Morality
GUARDIANS OF MORALITY
No nude! Low, lewd!
Prude Whitehouse, pursue it!
So crude show blue
shrewd Lord Longford, sue it!
Their attitude,
scare papers renew it,
bare fat eschew
where e’er they review it!
In modern mood,
sin, while men pooh-pooh it, -
to films, reviews, glued,
grin, smile when they view it!
27 November 1977
robi03_0143_robi03_0000 XXX_JMX
poem by Jonathan Robin
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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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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Poetry in Motion for Friend Thad
A connoisseur of derrieres.
I’ve studied ladies rears for years.
I love to watch the liquid flow
of haunches moving to and fro
When clad in well cut denim jeans,
they can enhance the dullest scenes
But better still I must confess
beneath a simple cotton dress.
I am convinced the ladies know
that many men enjoy the view
and do their very best to show
they don’t object but pretend to.
I find that Gluteus Maximi
Are very easy on the eye.
14-May-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Naked and unashamed.
We dance sky clad beneath the moon.
The Goddess’ wishes to fulfil.
In gratitude for every boon
The goddess grants us as she will.
We celebrate fertility.
As did our forbears long ago.
Restoring the vitality
the earth requires. This we know
because the Goddess tells us so
She taught them as she teaches us
the Rituals that we need to know
Our dance is not lascivious
We circle always deosil.
The same direction as the sun
as we obey the goddess’ will
We mean no harm to anyone.
To cause no hurt; this is our law
All witches must strive to obey.
The basis of our sacred lore
for those who worship her today.
Though we must worship secretly
and hide ourselves from public view.
Perhaps one day we will be free
To worship as we wish to do
Monday,02 August 2010
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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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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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Silent Alarm for Friend David Threadgold
The darkness hosts a multitude
of atavistic memories.
which influence our attitude
Towards the things we cannot see.
The hunting owl which quietly
on noiseless wings seeks out his prey.
His night tuned eyes can clearly see
as if it was as bright as day.
Some see him as an enemy
and view his passage with alarm.
Although he’s acting naturally
with no intent to cause them harm.
Men fear the dark which seems to be
a breeding ground for ancient fears
embedded inescapably
in memories from their forebears.
Their fear of being eaten by
some marauding predator
which pounces on them from the sky.
Man will recall for evermore.
15-Aug-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Grin and Tonic for M 'lady Marilyn
I sometimes have a jaundiced view
when I survey the world today.
I have to pause and look anew
to try to see a different way.
It all depends on upon my mood.
The way in which I choose to see
and my prevailing attitude.
So in the end it’s down to me.
I wear an artificial smile
which will conceal the way I feel.
But oddly in a little while
I find my smile becoming real.
What I pretended has come true.
It works for me: why mot for you.
01/05.2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Strategian
He was a military man
who waxed the ends of his moustache
A man must look the best he can.
He thought it added real panache.
He always kept his hair quite short,
his lantern jaw shaved to the bone.
But his moustache or so he thought
was at its best when left alone.
It was his greatest pride and joy
It added something to his face.
He thought the ladies might enjoy.
With every whisker kept in place.
With moustache wax freshly applied
and just a hint of fine cologne.
He was completely satisfied
with what he tried and what he’d done.
The ladies did not seem to care.
About his well dressed upper lip
It seemed they would prefer it bare
for all his clever showman ship
Clean shaven men were all the rage.
The fair sex had the final say
So he shaved off his appendage.
The ladies always get their way.
A soldier knows when to retreat
and make a change to his campaign.
More preferable than face defeat.
it will always grow again.
When fashions change as fashions do.
He is a military man
But he can change his point of view
as quickly as the ladies can.
.07/05/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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In praise of older women for M lady Ernestine
There is beauty in old age
which younger girls can’t emulate
As if the lady’s reached the stage
where she need not dissimulate
She’s not afraid to let you see
the lines that life’s writ on her face.
Each wrinkle was earned honourably
each laughter line has earned its place
Cosmetics may conceivably
appear to slow the passing years
but only temporarily
before you are reduced to tears
Youthful beauty soon fades away
no matter how hard you may try
by artifice to make it stay.
In lucky ladies replaced by
A much longer lasting beauty
which shows from somewhere deep inside
without a trace of vanity
Though grace and dignity abide.
Old ladies can be beautiful
and often turn a young man’s head.
Although they are quite comfortable
accepting compliments unsaid.
Admiring glances from young men
who readily appreciate
The beauty of older women
is something youth can’t imitate.
Young women lack maturity
which older ladies can display.
Their youthful insecurity
somehow always gets in the way.
29-Jul-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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One of those days
Although I try I cannot hide,
the fact that I’m dissatisfied
with everyone and everything
Despite the fact that I have tried.
Why it is that life is so unfair.
It sometimes drives me to despair
of everyone and everything
I could give up but I don’t dare.
For everyone depends on me
to provide their security
Yes everyone and everything.
Is this the way that things should be
I suppose I’m entitled to
take a very jaundiced view
of everyone and everything.
When I am feeling sad and blue.
Quite suddenly my blues are gone.
I know I can depend upon
every one and everything.
No longer feeling woebegone..
I know without a shred of doubt
I’ve little to complain about
That everyone and everything
are all prepared to help me out.
I snap back to reality.
The world does not depend on me
not everything and every one
is my responsibility.
I realise that my black mood
has coloured my whole attitude.
to everything and everyone
Because I was not feeling good
8-Nov-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Electric storm for M' lady Ernestine
The darkness of the night is rent
By lightning bolts that burn blue/white
The power of Nature apparent.
It is a truly awesome sight.
A heavenly firework display.
A lesson in humility
or merely just the Gods at play
It could be either possibly.
Depending how you choose to view,
this natural phenomenon.
Of course the choice is left to you.
Because it is so quickly gone
I choose to take the former view.
A lesson which is overdue.
Wednesday,02 February 2011
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Finale
Across the sky a streak of light,
a shooting star, a meteor.
Against the darkness of the night,
a sight I’ve often seen before.
I sometimes wonder where they’ve been.
Before they’re caught by gravity
and forced to play their final scene
and burn out spectacularly.
Each one I’ve seen was similar
and yet unique in its own way
A meteor or shooting star.
In its last moments would display
its signature across the sky
A rather splendid way to die.
25-Mar-09
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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