Heavenly Messenger.
Heavenly messenger.
As morning breaks the still, dark lake
reflects the opalescent light.
The waterbirds begin to wake.
Then somewhere near a lark takes flight.
This tiny bird whose melody
informs the world of a new day.
She rises singing joyously.
The blackbird adds his roundelay.
A pleasure for the ears and eyes
of early rising men who see
the pastel colours of sunrise.
Spread from the east above the sea.
I am content to listen to
her hymn of praise forever new.
Saturday,11 September 2010
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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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New every Morning for M'lady Ann Beard
The Blackbird leads the dawn chorus.
His feathered cousins harmonise.
Their morning music glorious.
As if the song birds realise.
The opalescent light of dawn
provides them with the perfect cue.
To greet the new day newly born
as they are well equipped to do.
Each songster adding something to
the melodies that intertwine.
A ritual forever new
as they instinctively combine
into a choral symphony
Their every note blends perfectly.
Friday,29 January 2010
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Grace notes echoinf for M lady Olfa
The eastern sky is growing bright.
Signalling the end of night.
Soon in due course the rising sun
confirms a new day has begun
The morning silence broken by
a lark that carols from on high.
Instinctively when she takes wing
.She knows her duty is to sing.
Because she has survived the night
Because a new day has begun
Because she free to fly on high.
Because she knows that her singing.
Is something she’s required to do.
Yet every day her song is new.
Tuesday,02 February 2010
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Morning Hymn
Gladly do I greet the dawn
a new day born for me to see.
The dawn chorus fills my ears.
Banishes all fears: I’m free
to raise my hymn of praise.
To the suns rays. I ought to
in gratitude for the sight
of morning light. So I do.
Awdl gwnedd form
07/11/2009
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Morning Ritual.
Cywydd deuair Fyrion.
I greet the dawn.
A day new born.
My hymn of praise
I gladly raise.
As I should do
and so should you.
We know it’s true
that praise is due
An attitude
of gratitude.
Would be seemly
But we are free
To choose to sing
or do nothing.
It may well be
that unlike me.
You do not pray
to greet the day
That is your choice
But I rejoice
to see daylight
banish the night.
That’s why I raise
my hymn of praise.
Tuesday,02 February 2010.
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Fixed routine.
I always choose to take this way
This quiet path leads to my door,
Today as every other day.
I have no fear that I may stray.
I see no reason to explore.
I always choose to take this way.
Here sun and shadow interplay
Creating shapes not seen before.
Today as every other day.
The song thrush sings his roundelay.
I feel my jaded spirits soar
I always choose to take this way.
Though I could choose another way
I am aware of two or more.
Today as every other day.
It adds some pleasure to my day
a feeling I have known before.
I always choose to take this way
Today as every other day.
Wednesday,10 November 2010
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Natural Artistry
Natural artistry
The onion domes against the sky
by morning light blush rosily.
Before the sun has risen high.
Resplendent in his majesty.
He paints the domes with gleaming gold.
Without finesse but lavishly.
His whole approach is overbold.
I prefer delicacy..
The pastel shades that I could see
before the blazing sun applied
his crude form of artistry
and hid the beauty from my eyes.
With coats of gold he misapplied,
that he believes mistakenly.
Will be pleasing to the eyes
of the vast majority.
Who only value opulence.
I could be wrong he may be right.
But I prefer the evidence
which is provided by my eyes.
Te golden glow the sun supplies
to onion domes is transient.
Although pleasing to most men’s eyes,
an artists eyes are different.
I keep my vigil faithfully
though I confess impatiently.
Tomorrow morning I shall see.
The onion domes bathed in beauty.
Before the sun can brutalise
with crass insensitivity.
The pastel colours dawn applies
to onion domes against the skies.
Thursday,27 May 2010 http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
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Evening routine.
A maple tree is glowing red.
Highlighted by the setting sun
A fiery glow that quickly spread
to tint the clouds now day is done.
When day is done before the night
comes to erase the pastel hues.
Which fill the western skies with light.
I watch and glory at the sight.
I watch until the stars appear
as spots of light against the blue.
It is a ritual, I fear
I have become accustomed to.
Then I will take my homeward way.
A peaceful ending to my day.
Wednesday,27 October 2010
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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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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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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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End of day thoughts.
The glory of the sunset fades.
The evening sky surrenders to
a nonstop flow of darkest blue.
Which overwhelms the pastel shades.
The evening stars come on parade.
A panorama we can view.
In hopes of seeing something new.
Although the stars we see displayed.
May well have burnt out long ago.
There is no way that we can know.
Which of the stars we think we see.
That twinkle brightly overhead,
are still alive and which are dead
We never will most probably.
Saturday,27 November 2010
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The Daily Round.
The grey dawn breaks and I awake,
slowly and reluctantly.
A wash and shave is all it takes
for me to wake up properly.
I get dressed automatically
in preparation for the day.
But first I need some fresh coffee
before I plunge into the fray.
The household chores which must be done,
although I did them yesterday
But yesterday’s already gone
and tomorrow is on its way.
the household tasks always remain
and every day need done again.
Friday,29 January 2010
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Miseable existence.
Miserable existence.
I don’t admit to being old.
Nor will I put my life on hold.
As others think I ought to do.
I have a different point of view.
There’s so much that I want to do.
Each day I can find something new.
Something I have not done before.
It’s not a case of either or.
Let oher people vegetate
If they're prepared to sit and wait
in their arm chair and watch TV
Until they’re switched off finally.
When death decides to swing his scythe
and end their travesty of life.
Saturday,04 September 2010
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September afternoon for M lady Ernestine.
September sun spasmodically
breaks through the clouds which threaten rain.
Sometimes the clouds triumphantly
block out the sunshine once again.
I watch and wait expectantly
to see the sun come smiling through
A little optimistically
I hope to see the sky turn blue.
The storm clouds try but can’t resist
a brisk wind blowing from the sea
They have no choice the wind persists
Although they move reluctantly.
The clouds are gone the sun shines on
and will do ‘til the day is done.
Wednesday,08 September 2010
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Gut Feelings?
I can read omens in entrails
of cockerels I sacrifice.
my inner vision seldom fails.
I am the local Haruspice.
Although you may not understand
the message that I give to you.
I must do as the Gods command
as I am bound by oath to do.
The Gods enjoy their little jest.
They make their messages obscure.
Although I always try my best.
There is no way I can be sure
The message I relay to you
is the one I am supposed to.
Saturday,11 September 2010
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In Pensive Mood
The dawn breaks grey and desolate.
No song birds sing to greet the day
I view the world disconsolate
It seems that night is here to stay.
But later on the sun will rise,
the morning mists evaporate
and change the world before my eyes.
I only have to watch and wait
As from the east the light will spread.
The sun will rise triumphantly
to take his station overhead.
A sight I welcome heartily.
A blackbird sings. His orison
informs the world that night is gone.
18-Jan-08
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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English Lit as it is taught For Sidi Mahtrow
English lit as it is taught.
My daughter was quite fond of Chaucer.
It was her choice I didn’t force her.
She treated Shakespeare with disdain.
Considered him to be pain.
Although her teachers would insist
he was the greatest tragedist.
That England ever had produced.
She refused to be seduced.
By the established point of view.
Though she was forced to listen to
Them singing praise of the bard.
They failed despite their trying hard.
She still considered Will a fraud
a failed exam was her reward.
Monday,08 November 2010
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Inspiration, motivation, satisfaction
Your wants and needs are not the same.
You needs you cannot do without.
Your wants are quite a different game.
Things that you choose to dream about.
Long cherished dreams can motivate
you to make that extra effort
and when you win appreciate.
It was much easier than you thought.
Some people are content to dream
others will make their dreams come true.
All part and parcel of life’s scheme.
Dreamers just dream and doers do..
Though some of us combine the two
We dream at first and then we do.
Saturday,21 August 2010
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