I love my daughter: but
I know, I know the exact word
I use it very frequently.
Then suddenly, it’s quite absurd.
I cannot trust my memory.
I’ve always trusted it before
and it has never let me down.
But that’s is not true anymore
and forms a reason for my frown.
My daughter says it just might be
because I’m getting on a bit.
I cannot possibly agree.
I’m aghast at the cheek of it.
I’m not old just eighty three.
I do not doubt that I will be
the first one of my family
to reach my own centenary.
What does it matter I forget
some little things occasionally
I know what’s getting me upset
Her lack of sensitivity.
The word will come if I just wait
That is a racing certainty
But I do not appreciate
a recaltricant memory.
There must be something I can do,
to stimulate my memory.
I think I’ll take up something new
Some thing active probably.
I may be old but I’m still fit
to think and act competently
My daughter talks a load of bull
I won’t forgive her easily.
Thursday,12 November 2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Related quotes
Seeds of Doubt
“To tell the truth” invariably
precedes the telling of a lie.
It reeks of insincerity
and always makes me wonder why.
You think that I might doubt your word
although I have no reason to.
I find this prefix quite absurd
to me it never does ring true.
I do not doubt your honesty
nor do I think that you doubt mine.
This prefix is a travesty
which only serves to underline.
The seeds of doubt you sow in me.
Which were not there previously.
05/04/2009
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Freethinker for J.T.Ellison
Freethinker
I do believe that memory can be passed down genetically
Encoded in our D.N.A Although I know the experts say
My theory’s unsustainable, there is no proof obtainable.
For all their professed expertise. My theory causes them unease.
They are afraid I might be right. It could explain why men take fright.
When darkness falls and they can’t see, arousing repressed memories
Of long ago when men were prey which linger to the present day
Although the experts can’t explain the workings of the human brain.
The experts say it can’t be so: They know less than they think they know.
I don’t accept the experts view I see no reason I should do
I still believe that memory can be passed down genetically.
Encoded in our D.N.A. No matter what the experts say.
They cannot force me to agree for I think independently
31/05/2009
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It might come back into fashion
Why do we hoard things we don’t use?
Why is that we always choose
to take the easy way.
Turn a blind eye.
We will decide another day
what to keep, what to throw away
Although there’s no reason why
we should refuse
We’re well aware what we should try
to clear some space before we buy.
That gorgeous pair of shoes
We should say nay.
We know quite well we should refuse
but bargains we can always use.
Thursday,19 November 2009
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It might come back into fashion for all long suffering husbands
Why do we hoard things we don’t use?
Why is that we always choose
to take the easy way.
Turn a blind eye.
We will decide another day
what to keep, what to throw away
Although there’s no reason why
we should refuse
We’re well aware what we should try
to clear some space before we buy.
That gorgeous pair of shoes
We should say nay.
We know quite well we should refuse
but bargains we can always use.
Thursday,19 November 2009
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Seize the day
Although society expects
that old folk should live quietly.
I don’t accept foolish precepts
I cannot possibly agree
Nobody can dictate to me
what I should or should not do.
I won’t surrender easily
I’m always trying something new.
I will not sit and vegetate
in my arm chair and watch T.V.
I say this most vehemently.
Though I am old I’m not brain dead
I lead an active life instead.
31-Jan-09
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Mutual antipathy.
Mutual antipathy
monotetra
I cannot say with certainty
that I am right though I might be.
You have the right to disagree.
I will consider carefully
the reasons that you offer me.
As to why you can’t agree.
I think that very possibly
there’s little possibility
That you will ever agree with me
You can’t admit that I might be
correct. Because you dislike me.
You are not thinking logically
I cannot claim with honesty
that I am quite prejudice free.
I don’t like you, you don’t like me.
At least on that we can agree.
Sunday,01 August 2010
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Sceptical
In the beginning was the word.
A statement patently absurd.
This is the message we receive
from priests who think we should believe.
If there were none to speak or hear.
It is not credible I fear.
The myths and legends multiply
but always fail to satisfy.
My avid curiosity
I simply can’t believe you see.
I think the truth is no one knows
nor ever I will I must suppose.
Why can’t these learned men confess?
they know no more and often less.
Than those who they attempt to teach.
Some knowledge is beyond their reach
and must remain a mystery.
This is the only certainty.
To which I have become resigned
but I will keep an open mind.
I’m sceptical that is quite true
but so I think my friend are you.
18-Dec-08
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Genenology
When I researched my family tree.
I found out that quite possibly
I should conceal my ancestry.
They were not as my mum believes
aristocrats but cattle thieves.
It’s odd how family pride perceives
their ancestors as respectable.
It makes them feel more comfortable
although it is a load of bull.
I’m not ashamed why should I be
because of my discovery
It makes no odds I am still me.
You will do well to bear in mind
you may not like what you will find.
11-Apr-08
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Merciful Release?
Merciful Release.
The mist descended suddenly.
Totally unexpectedly.
I could not see to find my way
So I decided I should stay
Just where I was. It seemed to be.
The wisest choice
I’m not so certain that it was
I think perhaps that is because.
The clammy fog embraces me
And whispers to me quietly
You have no choice.
If I decide to let you go
I am quite certain you will know.
Not to brave the moors alone
These moors are mine all that I own
and I rejoice.
I have the power to heal or kill
I always had and always will.
These moors are worthy of respect
It is mission to protect.
It whispered sotto voice.
I will remember till I die.
There is no reason I should lie
The day the mist enveloped me
and whispered to me quietly
I hear that voice.
In nightmares to this very day.
Although it let me go my way.
I still retain the memory
Of the lesson taught to me.
The moors own voice.
Although it spoke so quietly
Is etched deep in my memory
I can’t forget although I try
And to this day I wonder why.
It made the choice
To set me free as suddenly
as the mist had captured me.
I don’t suppose I’ll ever know
Why it chose to let me go
I had no choice.
The moors have little time for fools
They can and will enforce their rules
I'm forced to take it seriously
Or pay the price
Tuesday,15 November 2011
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Sunday morning Pests.
Two thousand years or so ago.
Three criminals were crucified.
And yet today we claim we know
One was the son of God and died.
We cannot prove that this true
there’s very little evidence.
But we are still expected to
give these stories full credence.
By word of mouth they were passed down.
Translated from old Aramaic.
They came from sources now unknown
Could they free from all mistake.
When they written finally
Although no doubt with good intent
Were they translated properly
or were they changed by accident.
By accident or purposely.
Perhaps a mixture of the two
To claim divine authority.
To me it simply will not do.
To tell me that I must believe.
What may or may not be true.
Is something which you won’t achieve.
There’s very little you can do.
I can’t accept on faith alone.
Until you can prove the things you teach.
are truths that stand up on their own.
Consider me beyond your reach.
Christianity could very easily
have flourished for a while and died.
It owes its popularity.
To information men supplied.
Who had some private axe to grind
Men who stood to benefit.
Perhaps you think I am unkind
that I can’t prove a word of it
I can’t deny that it is so
I don’t expect you to agree.
But I believe you do not know
The whole truth any more than me.
I can respect what that you believe
I do not find it difficult
But I’m not willing to receive
Indoctrination by some cult.
So please don’t knock upon my door
Attempting to convert me to your view
Because I’ve heard it all before
and I’ve got better things to do.
Than listen to the likes of you.
02/09/2009
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Optomist 08
Optimist 08
Although it’s not a certainty.
There is a possibility
that I will reach a century
and then I will quite probably
Review my choices thoroughly.
Should I give in graciously
or dismiss death contemptuously.
The only thing that worries me.
A problem which I can foresee.
Will I retain my faculty?
still contribute coherently.
Will still know that I am me?
I do not think I’d like to be
a burden to my family.
I think I’d better wait and see
and not decide impulsively
I still have years ahead of me..
I have to think positively.
26-Jul-08
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Mutual respect for friend Chandra.
Does God exist or does he not.
We cannot prove it either way.
Though arguments wax strong and hot.
What does it matter anyway.
If you have faith and you believe
Perhaps that makes it true for you
If I lack faith and can’t perceive
things in the same way that you do.
That does not mean that you are right
nor does it mean that I am wrong.
Although our views are opposite
It’s possible to get along.
We can agree to disagree.
There’s no need for disharmony.
Sunday,24 January 2010
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Useless, A challenge entry
The handbook isn’t written yet
that will teach me to forget.
The years of happiness we shared.
I have no doubt because we dared,
to accept that we were meant to be.
Bonded together as a pair
Because we matched so perfectly.
A partnership beyond compare.
There’s no hand book nor will there be.
In any language known to man,
which can erase your memory.
I am certain that nothing can
Of what use could a handbook be?
It won’t relieve my misery.
23-Sep-08
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Maturely Considered Opinion
.
Approaching his centenary.
The old man did not seem to be
at all concerned apparently.
About the fact that he was old.
Still a player in life’s game
He took each day just as it came
and treated every day the same.
He did not feel that he was old.
Though he had reached a ripe old age
Much greater then the average
He did not see that he should rage
against the fact that he was old
He saw no reason to complain
he’d rather not be young again.
07/07/2009
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Who was he? Welsh bardic form
Cywydd Llosgynrog.
I am forced to live alone
All those I knew long since gone.
There’s no one left who loves me.
This must be the penalty
I pay for longevity
It will be my turn soon
I am waiting patiently
Death will claim me finally
I will be happy to go.
There’ll be nothing left of me
but a fading memory
Which will be soon forgotten.
Thursday,11 February 2010
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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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Misplaced Trust
Symmetrical verse
Misplaced trust
.
I lost my way
Was led astray
By those I thought I could believe
But were not what they seemed to be
Because I was young and naïve
I trusted them too easily
Their confidence was all pretence.
I should have used my common sense.
Gone my own way
Without delay.
But I did not I thought they knew
Which way to go
which wasn’t true.
Saturday,29 October 2011
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Incapability
The sunset’s indescribable
but being me I have to try
to see if I am capable.
Although I see no reason why.
I think this time I might succeed.
I’ve tried so many times before
to explain how the colours bleed
into shades I have no name for.
I would love to share my view
but lack the vocabulary.
I cannot describe to you
the transient beauty that I see.
No matter how hard I may try
it’s an impossibility.
18/05/2009
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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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Misplaced Trust symmetrical verse.
Symmetrical verse
Misplaced trust
.
I lost my way
Was led astray
By those I thought I could believe
But were not what they seemed to be
Because I was young and naïve
I trusted them too easily
Their confidence was all pretence.
I should have used my common sense.
Gone my own way
Without delay.
But I did not I thought they knew
Which way to go which wasn’t true.
They lied to me
As liars do.
Saturday,29 October 2011
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