En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Her Own Choice

She could no longer cope alone.
Knew all too well that it was true
and there was something else she knew.
Her race was run, time to move on.

She did not wish to vegetate
in some well run establishment
Where lunch became the main event.
With no attempt to stimulate.

The workings of an agile mind,
trapped inside a useless shell.
A body which had served her well.

Before her health was undermined,
by ailments which progressively
destroyed all of her abilities.
The time had come to quit the game.

So she decided she would die
in her own bed in her own home
To be pain free would be welcome.
So she died voluntarily.

The cause of death no mystery.
She chose to exercise her right,
While she had the will to write
the finish to her life story.

22/04/2009

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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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I have become a pragmatist for friend Leslie

I have become a pragmatist

I’ve been betrayed by so called friends
and people who I thought I knew.
With no attempt to make amends.
I sometimes wonder if it’s true.
Was I myself in part to blame
for trusting far too readily
that’s not the way to win life’s game.
Now that it’s too late I see
I acted rather foolishly.
I should have been more sceptical
and checked them out more thoroughly
at risk of seeming cynical.
I am no longer so naïve
I’ve learnt my lesson I believe.

16/08/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Escape Mechanism

I was in pain, in agony
and saw no way to gain relief.
Then all at once I seemed to be
beside myself quite literally.

Some how I had escaped my pain
just left my agony behind
so I was comfortable again.
I thought at first I was insane.

And yet I knew I was still me
but by some magic of my mind.
I had escaped I’d struggled free.
Although it felt quite strange to see.

My body sitting in my chair.
To see myself from the outside.
As though I was both here and there.
I found it rather hard to bear.

I wondered then if I had died
and that was how I came to be
Observing myself from outside
I understood I must decide

I had a choice to be pain free
and leave the life I knew behind.
I chose somewhat reluctantly
and I returned immediately.

Back to the inside looking out
I don’t pretend to understand
what happened but I have no doubt.
Although I rarely talk about.

The day I found that I could be
in two places at one time.
Experience simultaneously
to be pain wracked and be pain free.

I sometimes voluntarliy
decide to take a holiday
from aches and pains which distress me.
Be pain free temporarily.

All men must die and so will I,
I do not let it worry me.
But until then I can but try
to bear my suffering patiently.

When it gets to much to bear
I close my eyes and I escape
to somewhere else I‘m not sure where
nor do I think I really care.

1-Oct-08

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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Fantasy or Fact? for friend C.P Sharma

I am not dead nor do I live.
I hover somewhere in between
No explanation I can give
will prove to be sufficient to.

Describe exactly how I feel.
I long to stay but want to go.
To who or what do I appeal?
I am confused I do not know.

When I return to consciousness
and find I am myself again.
Gone is the sense of timelessness.
I am content and free from pain.

I knew deaths door was open wide
but knew my family needed me.
I did not choose to step inside.
It could have been a fantasy.

I’m sure some few will understand
but only those who have been there.
Most will dismiss it out of hand.
Though not because they do not care.

They simply cannot comprehend
they lack the sensitivity.
To know that death can be a friend
who is prepared to set you free.

But in the end the choice is yours.
It is your life you must decide
which would be the better course.
To just give up or to abide.

I don’t remember which I chose
but obviously I am still here.
I must have chosen I suppose.
But on that point I am not clear.

I can remember vividly
The doctors crowding round my bed
Whilst I was floating happily
and watching from above their heads..

Fantasy or reality
I do not know but I am sure
That it has wrought a change in me
that’s permanent and will endure.

No longer will I fear to die.
I know that death is not the end.
I am quite sure but know not why.
My enemy is now my friend.

I know that death will set me free
When my time comes then I will go
Released from my earthly body.
Towards a future I can’t know.

22/10/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Conforming

I cannot unilaterally,
decide to do what pleases me.
How very easy life would be
if that was satisfactory.
Although it makes me furious.
I must confer, debate discuss
until it is unanimous.
I find it rather curious.
It seems your free will is not free.
Although you think it ought to be.
In order to live peacefully
as part of our society.
We have to voluntarily
place limits on our liberty.

05/11/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Absolute Necessity

Absolute necessity

Is poetry a luxury or one of life’s necessities?
I have to read, I have to write poetry a pure delight.
Other poets inspire me.Exploring the variety
of forms and styles that I can find, serves to stimulate my mind.
I do not claim to be the best I am just one amongst the rest
of poets posting on the net. Who you remember or forget.
Is poetry a luxury the answer must be NO from me.
To some it seems a waste of time to other folks it is sublime.
You are quite free to make your choice. But I will always raise my voice.
Applauding poets who can write fine poetry that brings delight,
Uplift the hearts of other men, more power to the poet’s pen.

27/07/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Their evensong; my pleasure for friend Thad

I sit outside the monastery
and pass an hour pleasantly
Listening to the brothers chant
I find their plain song elegant.

I wonder why, it puzzles me
Why do some men voluntarily
decide upon monastic life.
Are they afraid of worldly strife.

It seems to me that they retreat
from normal life; admit defeat.
I’m sure they see it differently
To me it is a mystery.

What can they possibly achieve.
This question really baffles me.
I must suppose that they believe.
It’s pleasing to their deity.

But I am not a Christian
I have my own philosophy.
More suited to a simple man.
Which is all I claim to be.

They have a choice they can decide
to worship God in their own way.
I am content to sit outside
I do not have the right to say.

What they should do or should not do.
My own motto is tolerance
that’s why I come to listen to
the plain song. which my ears entrance.

When night falls and all is still.
The final notes have died away.
I exercise my own free will
and rise to make my homeward way.

My God does not expect me to
stick to a rigid discipline.
The way the brothers have to do.
To pray or not the choice is mine.

14/07/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Vengeance delayed storypoem

My country taught me how to kill
and when I had sufficient skill
I was recruited secretly
to serve a special agency.

My given task was to erase
any who opposed our ways
at home abroad where I was sent
To which I gave my free assent.

I slowly came to realise
I could not always recognise.
My target as an enemy.
Suspected they were using me

Though I had little evidence.
Some missions seemed to make no sense
I was expected to obey
my instructions come what may/

My duty was to do or die
I had no right to question why
There was no way I could resign
or else the next death would be mine.

I had known other colleagues die
quite frequently Now I knew why.
I was convinced my turn would come
Because a dead man will stay dumb.

I chose instead to disappear.
Create a new life far from here.
Although I killed for my country
I’m certain they will search for me.

They are afraid that if I chose
their dirty secrets to expose.
They have no means of stopping
me whilst I remain at liberty

They would much rather I was dead.
I have a price upon my head.
So I have planned accordingly
If they succeed in killing me.

My story will be given to
the press who will know what to do
.I’ll take revenge posthumously.
on liars who exploited me.

22/04/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Fare you well

Fly free proud spirit on your way.
Towards the truth you sought to find,
No need to tarry or delay.
You know I’ll follow on behind.

The bonds of love death cannot break
For love will last eternally.
We’ll meet again make no mistake.
I will rejoin you presently.

We’ve lived and loved and died before.
I have no doubt we will again.
Each life we learn a little more
although each parting is a pain.

With my blessings go your way
until my call comes I must stay.

22/04/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Access Denied

Ofttimes enwrapt in reverie
I have a distant memory
but I cannot be sure it’s true
Of my mother who I barely knew.

She died so very long ago.
There is so much I do not know
I only know what I’ve been told
and that recedes as I grow old.

Although I try I can’t recall
her face: bring it to mind at all.
I feel I should be able to
but there is nothing I can do.

Sometimes I wake to find I’ve wept.
But I can do nothing but accept.
That time’s erased the memory
of the face I long to see.

Some faded photographs remain
which I look at, try to regain.
The memories I have repressed
It may be that it’s for best.

I was so young when mother died.
My wants and needs were satisfied.
By father and the family
and I grew up quite happily.

Would mother have been proud of me?
I she’d lived long enough to see.
The man her little boy grew into.
My mother who I barely knew.

Then I remember guiltily
my mother lost much more than me.
The grandchildren she’d never know
the chance to see her children grow.

But I still pursue selfishly
that one elusive memory.
That’s buried somewhere deep inside
A need that can’t be satisfied.

Perhaps because I’m growing old
and only have what I was told
to remember mother by.
I know I’ll fail but I still try.

24/07/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Gramercy

Why should I live in agony?
my life a total misery.
Because you find you can’t agree.
to help me die with dignity.

Who gave you the right to choose?
whether to allow or to refuse.
To end a life of little use
I think it is gross abuse.

of your assumed authority.
To decide what is best for me,
you will not listen to my plea.
I choose death voluntarily.

I am no use to anyone.
I’m well aware my race is run
and I am anxious to be gone.
The choice is mine and mine alone.

And therefore should be left to me
But in your wisdom you decide.
I must live on in agony
You won’t assist my suicide.

01/05/2009

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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Somebody's son.

A bloated corpse floats on the flood
But who he was nobody knows.
He was intent that no one should
Removed the labels from his clothes.
Made sure he carried no I.D
He had his reasons I suppose
to choose anonymity.
I must admit it baffles me.
He’s just another suicide
another tragic incident.
He’ll never be identified.
Unless perhaps by accident
He died voluntarily
and left behind a mystery.

Monday,29 March 2010
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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I'm still a man for M 'lady Milica

I’m still a man though I grow old
I am no longer brave and bold.
I think before I chose to act.
I have to face up to the fact.
I have to do as I am told.
I’m still a man

The aches and pains that trouble me
all tend to sap my energy.
I cannot do what I used to
That’s matterless for in my view
I’m still a man,

Short Rondel format

15/10/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Time to be,

Steal away quietly meditate
You can spare time enough. For a while
silently hide away. Contemplate
who you are, what you are thoroughly.
You may find peace of mind, leave behind
the pressures and distress easily.
All you need to succeed is concede.
You can fly if you try earnestly.
You will see, you can be really free.

12/07/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Machine made Elegance.

My father wrote in copperplate.
His beautiful calligraphy
I daren’t attempt to emulate
A task that’s well beyond me

Each letter was formed perfectly.
His grammar perfect and his prose.
Time was not a luxury.
Which was a factor I suppose..

My handwritings illegible.
To any one, sometimes to me.
I tend to hastily scribble
my thoughts down as they come to me.

But my P.C has changed my style
I can print out with clarity.
My poetry in a short while.
A blessing it has proved to be.

I was never taught to write
At least not write properly.
But I can print to my delight
and that is good enough for me.

The old ways change and we move on.
Although not always for the best.
Perhaps its sad that time has gone.
Now copper plate is by request.

Computers make it easy to
present hand written poetry.
In any font as we all do.
Which certainly impresses me.

15/10/2009
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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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It makes no sense.

A dog goes mad and is destroyed
A danger to society.
Why do we strive to avoid
the use of the death penalty.

Why do we pay to keep alive
a madman that we cannot cure.
It seems unjust he should survive
His victims didn’t that’s for sure

There is no cure for his disease
No chance at all he will be freed,
no way that he can earn release
He should be put down humanely

Why should he live in luxury?
with all mod cons provided free.

Saturday,05 December 2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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The only Way to go.

Some choose to grow old quietly
but others take a different view.
They chose to live disgracefully.

Why should you give up having fun.
Because you’ve reached a certain age.
There are still things you haven’t done.

You want to do before you die
Though your time may be limited.
You see no reason not to try

To make your madcap dreams come true.
Why should you sit and vegetate
as other folks expect you to.

You are the captain of your fate.
So you can do what you want to.
Tomorrow may be far too late.

So do it now immediately.
Regardless of the consequence.
What does it matter anyway?

Society may not agree.
You have the right to your own view
Choose to act disgracefully.

You’ll find that life is much more fun
than sitting watching the T.V.
Show the world you’re still someone

Seize every opportunity
that life’s prepared to offer you.
To shock your neighbours thoroughly.

They choose to sit and wait to die.
You choose to do the opposite.
You won’t surrender easily/

But fight until your final breath
because it is your nature to
Although you know you can’t beat death.

You know that one day you must die
but until then you choose to live
Just as you wish disgracefully.

01/09/09
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Unfulfilled expectations

.

Three score years and ten: They say
is the life span of a man.
Though it’s no longer true today.
People have realised they can.
Defy the dire predictions
and need not die obediently.
To suit the statisticians.
I‘m fast approaching ninety three.
And still live independently.
Growing disgracefully
content to act rebelliously.
Although the statisticians all agree
I should have died long years ago.
Which proves how little that they know

28/04/2009

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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Whatshisname

An actor always plays a part.
He has no personality.
It is the essence of his art
an actor’s capability
To become anyone at all.
Whoever they’re supposed to be
at least until the curtains fall
Revert to being nobody.
Their whole life is a fantasy.
They don’t know who they really are.
They can cope with reality
but only so much: Insofar
as I can see, because they can
act like any other man.
12/07/2009

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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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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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