Hauptstrasse Heidelberg
I seem to see superimposed
upon today’s reality
An older world a fantasy
this high street as it used to be.
Pondering with eyes half closed.
I can imagine easily.
This old streets chequered history.
Today a lasting legacy.
Perhaps in truth I merely dozed
and only dreamt that I could see.
This cobbles street completely free.
From all modern technology.
A great deal different I suppose.
No mobile phones, no cameras
no bicycles, no motor cars.
Then in my mind a question rose.
Was there a possibility
my poet’s sensitivity.
Had actually enabled me.
To slip through times firmly closed door
and see vignettes from history.
A gift that fate had granted me
however undeservedly.
I do not know nor ever will.
It must remain a mystery
Just what I saw or did not see
Is etched deep in my memory.
I am compelled I must compose
A verse or two of poetry
Say how this street affected me
The how and why, eluding me
19/09/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Related quotes
Do I dream or am I dreamt?
Do I dream or am I dreamt?
Surrealistic landscapes can
appear to be reality.
Scenes never seen by any man.
I can imagine easily.
Strange planets occupied
by aliens hostile to men
At other times I’m satisfied
to see the mountains once again.
I’m in control I can dictate
exactly what I wish to see.
I only need to concentrate
and set my questing spirit free.
When I dream I dream lucidly
unless someone is dreaming me.
02/09/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Here and There for M'lady Mary Gordley
To you they are pure fantasy.
To me they are reality,
So we are bound to disagree.
In worlds I visit frequently,
you can see dragons flying free.
But only if you have the key.
To open up your tight closed mind
to all the wonders you can find
when reality is left behind.
Try it out what can you lose,
travel anywhere you choose.
You have free will you can refuse.
But when I need a holiday.
I close my eyes and drift away.
7-Jun-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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A matter of opinion.
Some people say I am perverse
because I choose to write in verse.
The kind of stories I compose.
They think I ought to write in prose.
They have the right to I suppose.
But I won’t do as they propose.
I much prefer to write in verse
Because I think there’s nothing worse
Than badly written boring prose.
That is the reason why I chose.
To concentrate on rhyming verse.
I see no reason to reverse.
My original decision
to conform to your opinion.
I do not choose to write in prose
I am convinced that I would lose.
My rhyming capability
reducing my ability.
To write my words spontaneously.
I don’t expect you to agree.
Although I am compelled to write.
You’re free to exercise your right
To read or not as you choose to.
Though I confess I hope you do.
I know I can’t please everyone.
That is something that can’t be done
By any writer though they try
A truth no writer can deny.
Your comments are of interest
they spur me on to do my best.
We can agree to disagree
on which is best quite easily.
A poet must choose poetry.
But other writers are quite free.
to share their thoughts written in prose
Because they choose to I suppose.
If you should doubt my competence.
I will not choose to take offence.
You are entitled to your view
Please remember I am too
Sunday,02 May 2010
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Tutorial for David de Santis
I read some poetry today
by long dead poets from the past,
which I enjoyed I have to say.
Their golden words were meant to last
.
Though they long since returned to dust.
The legacy they left behind
for poetry students is a must.
It is as if they were designed.
To act as templates we can use
as we learn to write poetry
It would be foolish to refuse
to benefit from history.
So find a poet you admire
from the past or present day
You might just find his works inspire
you to write a different way.
Experiment with every kind,
free form, free verse, formality
then in due course you’re sure to find
which one of these is your forte
The time you spend to learn the rules
is one investment you must make
Like any trade you need the tools,
Before you can attempt to make
your claim to be a master bard.
The road to fame is long and hard
with very little cash reward.
you have to try, no one is barred.
30-May-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Changing perspective for bro Colin
A patchwork quilt of sunlit fields
Is visible as grey mist yields
to the majesty of the sun.
The morning mist and night shadows
are well aware that they must go
Now that a new day has begun.
The distant hills which I now see
Become for me reality
Now that the mists have fully gone.
No longer just a fantasy,
a half forgotten memory.
I wandered happily alone.
I did not lack for company
I had my book of poetry.
What more could any poet need
except a quiet spot to read.
31/08/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Dreamscape reality for Friend Thad
Some think Sci Fi is fantasy
which could become reality.
For it has proved so in the past
technology develops fast.
The far fetched tales of yesterday
are merely common place today.
Maybe in the next century
then men will travel easily.
To places we imagine now
although I cannot forecast how.
But until then we settle for
the time to dream and dream some more
of worlds we think that we create.
Who knows what wonder still await
what other treasures we may find
When we choose to leave behind
the world we know and simply go
into a heightened mental state
In which we can appreciate
That things aren’t always as they seem.
So just relax my friends and dream.
No matter how improbable.
Or how silly it may seem
Believing makes it possible.
17-Jul-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Fashions are a passing phase for friend Jon London
I read your words with greatest care
and try to see your point of view
Although sometimes I must declare
I find it difficult to do.
I hesitate to criticise.
Aware the fault may lie with me.
Nor dare I offer you advice.
You might resent it bitterly.
The messages you try to send
to me lack simple clarity
I cannot see what you intend.
It makes no sense at all to me.
Your random thoughts lack coherence
They’re neither poetry nor prose.
An unintended consequence
of fashions changing I suppose.
The way that poetry is taught
in schools and colleges today.
They do not know although they ought.
Anything goes is not the way.
Most modern so called poetry
can only be poetic prose
Although it’s written beautifully
Opinions differ I suppose.
I’ll stick to formal poetry
Perhaps I need the discipline
that rhyme and meter gives to me.
And free form verse I will decline.
2-Feb-09
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Open invitation for M 'lady Lucianne
Just loose your hold and come with me.
Explore the worlds of fantasy,
strange places only dreamers see
There is no charge it is quite free.
Decide where you would like to be
and we will travel rapidly.
Borne on the wings of poetry.
There is nothing for you to fear
reality won’t disappear.
You can’t escape so easily.
29-Apr-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Either or: both can't be true fpr Joe Poewhit
No one canprove that God exists.
No one can prove that God does not
and yet the arguments persists.
I do not know which view is true.
Nobody does apparently.
What you believe is true for you.
What I believe is true for me.
I think the evidence suggests
we should agree to disagree.
Accept the possibility
that either viewpoint could be true.
God could be fact or fantasy.
Why should we argue fruitlessly.
An argument no one can win.
God must remain a mystery,
Tuesday,22 December 2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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File Clerks Lament.
File clerk’s lament.
I dreamt a dream of pure delight.
Then woke up to reality
I know it was a fantasy.
It satisfied my appetite
for beauty which I rarely see.
Confined to grimy city streets.
My restless spirit was quite free
to travel where it wants to be.
My mind is capable of feats.
Which are denied to my body.
I visit worlds where none compete
and all are treated equally.
Unlike this weary world of woe
that’s all I am allowed to know.
Saturday,21 August 2010
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Tried and Tested
My pencil holds a multitude
of varied possiblities.
Which I accept with gratitude
I grasp the opportunities
To write my thoughts in black and white
on any subject that I choose.
Expressing sorrow or delight
enabling me to share my views
With other poets on the net.
Who also share their thoughts with me
although in fact we have not met.
The common bond is poetry.
I am old fashioned proud to use
The simplest of technology.
A pencil is the tool I choose
it helps my thoughts flow easily.
I don’t compose on my P.C.
Though I suppose I should learn to.
I’d rather scribble happily
in pencil as I usually do.
24/06/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Street Of Dreams
I heard the sound of voices in the night
Spellbound there was someone calling
I looked around no one was in sight
Pulled down I just kept on falling
Ive seen this place before
You were standing by my side
Ive seen your face before tonight
Maybe I just see what I want it to be
I know its a mystery
Do you remember me on a street of dreams
Running through my memory
On the street of dreams
There you stood a distant memory
So good like we never parted
Said to myself I knew youd set me free
And here we are right back where we started
Soemthings come over me
And I dont know what to feel
Maybe this fantasy is real
Now I know I see what I want it to be
But its still a mystery
Do you remember me on the street of dreams
Running through my memory
On the street of dreams
You are on every face I see
On the street of dreams
Solo
Tell me have you always been
On the street of dreams
Will we ever meet again my friend
Do you know just what it meand to be
On the street of dreams
Never know just who youll see do ya
On the street of dreams
You can be who you want to be oh yeah
I can hear you calling me
I can feel you haunting me
Haunting me
song performed by by Rainbow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Unwritten for C.P.Sharma
I bought a new anthology
of poems from the First World War.
I offer no apology
The poetry filled me with awe.
To understand that tragedy
could inspire young poets to write.
Poetry of such great beauty.
To read it is a sacred rite.
I have a strange affinity
with young men cut down in their prime
Who made their mark on history
describing hell in metered rhyme.
I am forced to wonder what
they might have written but could not.
18/05/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Accident.experiment or something meant.for M lady Ernestine.
I sometimes wonder why I ponder
on questions I cannot answer.
Why do I sit and wrack my brain
when there is nothing I can gain.
My endless curiosity
constantly compelling me.
To try and solve the mystery,
which has plagued man through history.
Did God create the race of man
for reasons known to him alone?
Is there an underlying plan
Which lies beneath all that is known.
Or were we just an accident
which has no purpose or intent.
The question which I put to you.
Which do you believe is true?
It’s not a case of either or
there could be many, many more,
explanations I suppose,
the truth is nobody knows.
You do not even have to choose,
you are entitled to refuse.
Though personally I shall still muse
and try to clarify my views.
Tuesday,11 May 2010
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Blind Luck for Joe Poewhit
Some can foresee what is to be
Fleeting images which quickly pass,
on which they base their prophecy.
When they employ their scrying glass.
Still others can review the past.
Reality not history,
enabling them to overcast
false hypotheses and theory
But most cannot and they must deal
with what is happening here and now.
The things we see and hear and feel.
The most nature will allow
are hunches and presentiments.
You act upon if you are wise.
Sometimes as if by accident
you know more than you realise.
Your mind reacts unconsciously
To what it sees may be a threat.
It observes subliminally
And very often you forget
The reason that you changed your mind
And thus avoided tragedy.
Perhaps you left your keys behind
and had to return hurriedly.
You don’t believe in E.SP.
Although you are willing to
accept your hunches easily.
I am quite sure most people do.
10/10/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Blinded by Pride for JT Ellison
Before recorded history.
Were men truly uncivilised?
or are we merely ill advised
and misinterpret what we see.
Some ancient monuments still stand.
Which we cannot explain today.
How were they built? No man can say.
Although we strive to understand.
Suggestive of technology
which is unknown to modern man.
We can’t explain it no one can.
There is no reason I can see.
There should not be technology
which we can’t duplicate today
Which somehow somewhere went astray
which brought them down eventually.
But modern man cannot accept.
That we too may have gone astray
and blunders blindly on his way,
As did the others I suspect.
Before the great catastrophe
reduced them back to primitives
Perhaps we do not want to see
a parallel with our lives.
Cursed by our curiosity
Mankind meddles where he should not.
Condemned to act impulsively
the lessons of the past forgot.
Perhaps in time mankind will learn
there are some things we may not know
or we will vanish in our turn.
And leave only ruins to show.
The heights to which we once aspired.
New races will investigate.
By remnants we have left inspired
and no doubt confidently state.
They are much wiser than we were
as we are inclined to boast today.
Each generation seems to prefer
to think theirs is the only way.
May be its true we’ve reached the peak
The highest point our race can reach
and that we have found what we seek.
I rather think events will teach.
That in due course this is not true
We too will vanish without trace.
and clear the way for something new
As early races had to do.
2-Oct-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Sense And Sensitivity
I try to keep an open mind
for things that cannot be defined.
Foreknowledge and telepathy,
anything extra sensory.
Clairvoyance and clairaudience,
which seem to use a different sense
from the five which we all use
It seems we aren’t allowed to choose
Levels of sensitivity.
are distributed randomly.
Although we try we can’t deny
that some unwritten rules apply
That these wild talents do exist
That’s why belief will long exist.
We can’t present proof positive.
All the evidence we can give
is anecdotal at the best
and fails all scientific test
Administered by tight closed minds
absorbed in prejudice which blinds
to any possibility.
Which they can’t touch or taste or see.
Although I do not understand
I cannot dismiss out of hand
Abilities which some possess.
but are reluctant to express.
Because they do not want to be
Subject to foolish mockery
You are convinced it can’t be true
and you refuse to listen to
any opposing argument
Your mind tight closed you are content
to live your life in ignorance
. Ascribing everything to chance
A choice you are entitled to
if you prefer a blinkered view.
Because some things can’t be defined
I much prefer an open mind.
I can accept quite easily
not every body will agree.
There’s so much that we do not know
about the human mind.Although
it seems to be illogical
I think nothing’s impossible.
08/04/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Maybe!
Maybe.
Perhaps our dreams are prophecies,
in which we see what is to be.
Though we don’t take them seriously
and disregard them completely.
It may be sad but it is true
There are a few a very few.
Who do believe and they achieve.
A great deal more than most can do.
Because they’re willing to pursue
their dream until they make it true.
This simple truth I share with you.
If you are willing to accept
the plans your sleeping mind projects
If you believe you can achieve.
Whatever goal you’re aiming for.
Things that you have not done before.
Dreamers can accomplish more
Because they’re willing to explore
the different possibilities.
Within their capabilities
They can achieve all they conceive.
I don’t expect you to agree
that every dream’s a prophecy.
But to consider carefully.
It’s possible that they might be.
You have free choice it’s up to you
to believe what you want to.
I’ve no intention to deceive.
I only want to share with you.
What I believe to be quite true.
You can do all you want to do.
That you can be successful too.
And make your dreams reality
instead of being fantasy.
All you need is to believe.
Tuesday,10 August 2010
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Memory Of Me As A Poet,
memory of me as a poet,
My doleful soul need's the great memory of me as a poet,
The pure memory taught me of the spontaneous event's of life,
How creation gave me authority to reveal such a strong poetic verse,
I recited the poem in my mind only to realise the great motor memory,
But pure memory revealed all my past writing,
I can relive my past only by the memory of the great history,
Global memory took my mind to think of the great poet.
poem by Maxim Muyu
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Temporary Purity
The once white snow is dirty grey.
Churned into slush by passing feet,
pedestrians pass to and fro.
Along this busy shopping street
At 5am it had been white.
Before the world was wide awake
Fresh snow had fallen through the night
like frosting on a birthday cake.
I could not sleep and watched it fall.
My windows overlook the street
Well before anyone at all
had left the marks of booted feet
But life goes on despite the snow,
as all the blurry footprints show.
Monday,09 November 2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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