Indelible Guilt.
Indelible Guilt.
More scenes of devastation.
The tides of war have left behind.
A naked child wanders alone.
She does not know the ground is mined.
She cries for aid but there is none
There is nobody left to care.
The tides of war have come and gone.
Death and destruction everywhere.
The lucky ones are those who died.
Though she survived: What chance has she
A helpless infant cast aside.
To starve to death most probably.
She may be killed by predators.
Who see her as their lawful prey.
Obeying Mother Nature’s law
Because they know no other way.
Kill or be killed the age old law
Instinctively they all obey
Each and every predator
The hunter can become the prey.
But Man the greatest predator
Brushes Natures rules aside
His greatest skill is making war
His blood lust never satisfied.
What of the child? No one can say
It must remain a mystery
The memory haunts me still today
When I look back regretfully.
The guilt I feel is permanent
Does not abate with passing years.
Still flashbacks to that incident.
Reduce me to impotent tears.
That is the price that soldiers pay.
For answering their countries call.
A guilt that will not fade away
and makes no difference at all.
Though we recall the heroes fall.
No one records the innocent
The weakest ones go the wall
By long established precedent.
It seems that we will never learn
The lessons taught by history
Each generation in its turn.
Must learn experientially.
There are no winners in a war.
The strong survive the weak must die.
Mother Natures age old law
When demand exceeds supply.
Sunday,18 December 2011
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Related quotes
Piercing the veils of mystery.
Piercing the veils of mystery.
Some understand instinctively.
What must remain a mystery
To the vast majority
Of ignorant humanity.
Most just accept the Status Quo
Because they do not want to know.
Although a few an elite few
Will learn things that they never knew
By dint of hard experience
They have to learn in self defence
Although their progress may be slow.
They can’t forget once that they know
How to interpret what they see
Piercing the veils of mystery.
Sunday,04 December 2011
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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It's not unusual.
She smiles at him seductively
And he reacts instinctively.
Mother Nature still employs.
Her oldest most successful ploys.
Ensuring that the race survives
By any means that she contrives.
Hormones raging in their veins.
Make certain that she wins again.
Though neither of them understand
They still obey nature’s commands.
Because they have been programmed to
And there is nothing they can do.
But carry out Dame Natures plan.
It has been so since time began.
Her winsome smile invites him to
Do what he’s supposed to do.
Mother Nature makes the rules.
Hormones are her favourite tools
A tried and tested formula
Which hasn’t let her down so far.
Wednesday,01 February 2012
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Flying lessons for M'lady Ernestine.
The swallows have successfully
raised up their fledging family.
The little ones now have to try
out their wings and learn to fly.
Although at first reluctantly.
They seem to know instinctively,
the freedom of the sky is theirs.
But only for the bird who dares
to leave the nest and try their wings.
Despite the anxious twitterings
of parent birds who have the right.
To watch their first attempt at flight.
They fly because they know they can.
All part of Mother Natures plan.
Sunday,13 June 2010
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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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We're Predators and Prey
Are we truly so distant from our primitive past
Are we no longer the hunter or considered fair prey
Were the truth put before you, you’d be most aghast
There are predators among us and they hunt us each day
We’re not truly different from the ones at herds rear
Which the predator watches with hard hungry eye
The prey starts and senses, that death is quite near
On the lonely herds edges, the weak always die
Our modern world is a jungle, and human beasts are a fact
Camouflaged with normalcy, clothed in disarming disguise
Preying on the young and the weakest with terrifying tact
Before melting in to community, they disappear to our eyes
The gazelle in the herd is as the child on the walk
Safety in numbers causes inborn defenses to relax
A lion creeping closer is as a van stopping to stalk
And they’ll both culminate in deadly attacks
No.. we’re not so far distant from our primitive past
Yes.. we’re the hunter and also too, are considered fair prey
don’t allow yourself or your children to lag or be last
Yes… there are predators among us and they hunt us each day
poem by David Whalen
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Live and let live
A long abandoned grave yard lies
outside the city boundary.
It has become a paradise,
A well established sanctuary.
Unwanted pets turned out to roam
by cruel owners who don’t care.
Are welcome here to make a home
amongst their wilder brethren there.
beside the graves in disrepair
or in the brambles overgrown.
They are quite sure to find a lair,
some place that they can call their own.
Although the predators still prey
They’re only acting naturally
by following Dame Natures way.
They co exist quite happily.
Eat or be eaten is the law.
You will not get a second chance
for nature’s red in tooth and claw.
The price of life is vigilance.
At least they live free from fear
of mans unthinking cruelty
Few humans ever venture near
this abandoned cemetery.
13-Aug-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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One day pehaps I'll understand Tissues warning
They say there is no Santa Claus
the bigger kids. Its just your dad
I don’t believe their lies of course
Although sometimes it makes me sad
I haven’t got a dad you see.
He died a long, long time ago
There’s just my mum my sis and me
That’s why I’m certain that I know.
There has to be a Santa Claus.
On Christmas morning there will be.
Some presents for each of us
in piles beneath the Christmas tree.
I only six but I know this.
That Santa works all through the night
making sure he does not miss.
A chance to bring a child delight.
One day I hope to catch the sight
of Santa Claus all dressed in red.
But mummy makes me go to bed
and she will watch for him instead.
She leaves mince pies and ginger wine.
Then she settles down to wait.
My sister goes to bed at nine.
Mum falls asleep and wakes too late.
He’s been and gone, so have the pies
While mother slept, kind Santa crept
into the house and ate the pies.
He left our presents while we slept.
At least that’s what my mother says.
If I should ask why she cries
On this the happiest of days.
Because I miss him she replies.
I’m not quite sure I understand
the reason for my mummy’s tears
Santa has gone back to Lapland
where has lived for years and years.
I think my older sister knows
A secret that she will not tell
She’s not allowed to suppose.
Because she sometimes cries as well.
But I’m a boy and boys don’t cry
But when they cry it makes me sad
Although I really don’t know why.
I never really knew my Dad.
Tuesday,01 December 2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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One day perhaps I'll understand.
They say there is no Santa Claus
the bigger kids. Its just your dad
I don’t believe their lies of course
Although sometimes it makes me sad
I haven’t got a dad you see.
He died a long, long time ago
There’s just my mum my sis and me
That’s why I’m certain that I know.
There has to be a Santa Claus.
On Christmas morning there will be.
Some presents for each of us
in piles beneath the Christmas tree.
I only six but I know this.
That Santa works all through the night
making sure he does not miss.
A chance to bring a child delight.
One day I hope to catch the sight
of Santa Claus all dressed in red.
But mummy makes me go to bed
and she will watch for him instead.
She leaves mince pies and ginger wine.
Then she settles down to wait.
My sister goes to bed at nine.
Mum falls asleep and wakes too late.
He’s been and gone, so have the pies
While mother slept, kind Santa crept
into the house and ate the pies.
He left our presents while we slept.
At least that’s what my mother says.
If I should ask why she cries
On this the happiest of days.
Because I miss him she replies.
I’m not quite sure I understand
the reason for my mummy’s tears
Santa has gone back to Lapland
where has lived for years and years.
I think my older sister knows
A secret that she will not tell
She’s not allowed to suppose.
Because she sometimes cries as well.
But I’m a boy and boys don’t cry
But when they cry it makes me sad
Although I really don’t know why.
I never really knew my Dad.
Tuesday,01 December 2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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A Soldier Home From A War
Daymare demons spiral your head.
There is no rest in your soft bed.
Images of death reveal.
The guilt you hide, but feel.
A war of shadows.
Where you once fought.
In back gardens where children play
For only peace you wished and sought.
The grass green hills of your childhood remain.
But there, there was no death sign
Wife and kids you greet at garden gate.
They don’t see your inner hate.
They don’t see your embroiled conscience,
or know the infliction you bare.
They’re only too happy to have you home.
Home to love and share.
You are a soldier home.
A soldier home from a war,
Trying your guilt to hide.
Trying to forget the child you shot, that died.
The war was someone else’s.
Why should you really care?
It only really strikes home,
when you see a child dying there.
Visions cloud your mind of voices in despair.
Why did we have to die so young?
Why did our mother’s have to mourn?
Soldier from another land, please tell us why?
The soldier’s forehead frowns.
The answer he can not give.
He was only sent there.
So other have a chance to live.
Now his war is over.
Over his home he now resides.
But the voices of despair.
Still ring in his head.
He cries to himself in silence.
How can his conscience bare.
The purgatory it must go through.
Knowing he killed a child fair.
18 July 1978
poem by David Harris
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Remembrance Day
Remembrance Day.
Poulters Measure
This day when we recall; the fighting men who fall
We stand erect, heads bowed in silence to show our respect.
For men who died for freedoms cause; who gave their all
Who made the supreme sacrifice, dying to protect.
The right of all men to be free: Answered the call.
But we forget although we demonstrate our deep respect.
The lessons taught by history. Ignored by all
Soldiers on either side die to no effect.
Now though we stand in silent respect to recall
The men who fell.I can see no reason to expect
that things will change sufficiently, if at all
I fear the future looks to be a grim prospect.
This day set aside to remember all the men who fall.
with due respect; but sadly say that I suspect
Remembrance Day makes no difference at all.
Sunday,06 November 2001
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Eyes: those tragic eyes,
It was her eyes, those tragic eyes
The saddest eyes I ever saw.
That made me start to realise.
The price that children pay for war.
Those eyes had seen brutalities
no innocent should ever see
She haunted still by memories
from which I fear she can’t break free.
I look into her eyes and see
that she expects nothing from me.
She has no hope that there might be
an ending to her misery.
Although I know I’m not to blame
I still feel guilty all the same.
Though we protest our innocence
in our attempts to rationalise.
What can we say in self defence.
That is not based on blatant lies.
It makes me frankly furious
that innocents should suffer so
The guilt belongs to all of us.
We can’t pretend we did not know
That we should learn from history
instead of choosing to ignore
Because we do not want to see.
There are no winners in a war.
I can’t forget those empty eyes
They’ll haunt me ‘til the day I die.
Monday,08 November 2010
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Tis A Fact Of Nature
'Tis a fact of Nature and facts never lie
That for one to live another has to die
The predator cannot survive without meat
It's natural instincts to hunt and kill to eat
The kestrel chase a flock of starlings in the sky
But they are too quick and it they do outfly
It must scan around in search of easier to catch prey
Or else for it 'tis going to be a hungry day
One has to die for another to live that is Nature's way
And in Nature all creatures have some role to play
It's Nature's way that the raptor is born with talons and a hooked beak
And for to keep the herds healthy the wolves kill the sick and the weak
In Nature there's so much to learn of and see
And her ways do remain as a mystery to me.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Krystallnacht 1938
I fear the sound of booted feet.
They inspire painful memories
though fragmented and incomplete
I can recall so vividly
The sound of breaking glass and boots.
I was too young to understand
the screaming jeers and gleeful hoots.
As storm troopers took full command
and attacked Jewish properties.
Without restraint from anyone
protestors beaten to their knees.
All semblance of the law had gone.
November nineteen thirty eight
The Nazis had proscribed the Jews
the ninth a night of spite and hate.
Who lost all that they had to lose..
My parents sent me to the States
a privilege for which they had to pay
with everything they had. It grates
upon me still that I survived.
because of their self sacrifice.
The guilt I feel still eats away
because they paid the final price.
I know I am alive today.
Because some cousins took me in
and raised me as American.
Although I was but distant kin
Though I would rather not, I can
recall that night so long ago.
The cries of men in agony
how much is true I do not know.
In dreams I see so vividly
The dreadful scenes I did not see
deeply etched in memory.
A turning point in history.
affecting my whole world and me.
I was a child of only eight
The Nazis killed my family
Though I was saved I had to wait
Til we defeated Germany.
To know for certain they were dead
along with many millions more.
The sound of boots fills me with dread.
I’m glad I can’t remember more.
Now I have children of my own
a fit old man of seventy.
I wonder If I could have shown
their courage which would send me free.
To strangers in a far off land
where they decided I would be
safer. I think I can understand
their only thought was to save me.
I wonder where it all began
I see no reason for it still.
Mans inhumanity to man
and don’t suppose I ever will.
30-Nov-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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The Write Place for M lady Chitra
The river here runs slow and deep
The banks on either side are steep
and covered well with foliage.
Through which small creatures slyly creep.
The price of life is vigilance
they can’t afford to take a chance
The brambles form an airy cage
through which they cast a wary glance.
Instinctively they know to hide
for danger lurks on every side
They have no choice they must forage.
It’s tantamount to suicide.
Just one mistake and they will die.
Predators can strike from the sky.
so suddenly and silently
The oldest rules of all apply
to prey and to each predator
Nature red in tooth and claw.
An old but very true adage
which will remain for evermore.
The river flows on placidly
quite unaware apparently
of happenings upon life’s stage..
In undisturbed tranquillity.
The river here runs deep and slow
A favourite place I choose to go
To scribble words upon a page.
my pencil moving to and fro.
My presence does not cause upset
they do not see me as a threat.
Until I move to turn my page.
Though I try not to, I forget.
I watch the watchers watching me.
I pique their curiosity
I find it difficult gauge
who watches who the most closely.
Towards the closing of the day
I have to go but they will stay
safe hidden in the foliage.
From which they very rarely stray.
15/07/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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It Is Survival Of The Fittest
On the flesh of smaller forms of wildlife the eagle she does fill her craw
A predator of Nature's wild kingdom and Nature lives by her own law
And the predators of Nature's wild kingdom they have to kill to stay alive
It is called the survival of the fittest where only the fittest survive.
The fear of creatures of the jungle when they listen to the big cats roar
But in Nature big cats are not seen as killers they hunt for survival nothing more
They have to hunt when they are hungry of meat they need their daily fill
It is one of the Laws of Nature that the predator to eat must kill.
Nature never grieves for her dead creatures to grieve it is not Nature's way
She is above sorrow and pity when on her bosom her dead creatures lay
Us humans too are part of Nature we live for awhile and we die
The creatures of Nature's wild kingdom they are not less mortal than I.
It is called survival of the fittest it happens in Nature night and day
Those that are born to be meat eaters on other creatures have to prey
And birth and death to Mother Nature are part of life and of the same
And for the deaths of her wildborn her predators she never blame.
poem by Francis Duggan
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When My Mother Was Away
When my mother was away
She left me without saying goodbye
She left me to great beyond
In this lonely wicked world
How would I survive
The demand of mother earth that asked of much from none
Oh! Mother, my dream of better tomorrow
My care not in worry
For always she is there
To meet the demand of mother nature
Not to worry her word of consolation always
Her remark for the demand of mother earth.
I lost my mood, my care and my future
I lost all a sweet mother could offer her child
My mother left memory of yesterday for my future
Oh! Mother, a paradise lost never to regain.
poem by Mahfooz Ali
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The way it has to be
The way it has to be
The world is full of predators,
the strongest prey upon the week
It’s one of nature’s primal laws.
Only the fittest live to breed
and pass strong genes to their offspring.
They must be ruthless to succeed.
Mankind does not obey these rules
and by preserving weaker strains
Appears perhaps to prove that we are fools.
We breed beyond capacity
and damage the environment.
Avoiding the simplicity of laws
which Mother Nature made.
The weak and flawed will not survive
they simply do not make the grade.
Though Mother Nature can enforce
the rules she made. against mans will
Does so as matter of course.
Too many mouths too little food
Many must die to save the few
Maybe it’s time we understood.
Mother nature‘s in control
Because mankind’s not fit to be
She sees the picture as a whole.
Something that mankind cannot do
His stiff necked pride gets in the way.
So Nature does what she needs to.
She culls the herds quite ruthlessly
the weakest still go to the wall.
This is the way it has to be.
1-Jan-08
The world is full of predators,
the strongest prey upon the week
It’s one of nature’s primal laws.
Only the fittest live to breed
and pass strong genes to their offspring.
They must be ruthless to succeed.
Mankind does not obey these rules
and by preserving weaker strains
Appears perhaps to prove that we are fools.
We breed beyond capacity
and damage the environment.
Avoiding the simplicity of laws
which Mother Nature made.
The weak and flawed will not survive
they simply do not make the grade.
Though Mother Nature can enforce
the rules she made. against mans will
Does so as matter of course.
Too many mouths too little food
Many must die to save the few
Maybe it’s time we understood.
Mother nature‘s in control
Because mankind’s not fit to be
She sees the picture as a whole.
Something that mankind cannot do
His stiff necked pride gets in the way.
So Nature does what she needs to.
She culls the herds quite ruthlessly
the weakest still go to the wall.
This is the way it has to be.
1-Jan-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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The Rat and the Owl
A rat is moving on the ground;
It searches for something to eat;
’Tis night and it must quickly find
Some food or else, it must sure starve!
A large owl stands with two large eyes;
It turns its neck to scan the ground;
It strains its eyes to catch a prey,
And sees a rat shuffling across!
Both search for food in frantic ways;
Both need to eat to stay alive;
The owl is like a ghost at night;
Its large eyes contrast rat’s small ones!
The owl is predator for rat;
The rat is prey for owl at night;
The owl is sure to pin the rat,
And death is sure for the latter!
The rat moves on unwarily!
It nears the owl innocently;
It does not know that death is near;
Its mind is bent on searching food!
The owl is watching rat’s movements;
The prey is rather small in size;
It tries to keep the rat within
Its visual fields, and take a strike!
The rat is unaware of owl;
It has not sniffed the danger near;
With nostrils engrossed in food-search,
It scurries to and fro for long!
The owl is planning when to swoop;
An opportune moment must come;
The rat must take a moment’s rest;
The owl’s claws take the rat to nest!
The predator is smart and swift;
The prey will certainly get caught;
There is a small chance to escape;
But, predator must make the fault!
Both owl and rat must eat to live;
The rat is prey for owl always;
The rat can still avoid its death;
It must respect the owl’s beak-might!
In life, we play with dangers oft;
We know that fire surely burns;
We walk into the ‘jaws of death’!
We take some risks that bring us death!
But being careful is a must;
We cannot risk our precious life;
Lurk dangers in our environs;
The thread of life could get cut fast!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 7-21-2008
poem by John Celes
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Qye Sera, Sera 2009 for M lady Catrina Heart
Que Sera Sera.2009
With passing time the stoutest walls
will slowly crumble into dust
Impregnable when in their prime
they will still fall as all things must.
The mental walls we build will last.
Meant to protect a broken heart
until we can forget the past
and dare to make a brand new start.
The human heart’s resilient
and will respond to T.L.C.
The damage is not permanent
Although we feel that it might be.
The passing time will numb the pain
as rising tides of hormones flow.
Dictating you must try again
revive your flagging libido
It is part of the learning curve
though sad its true I have to say.
No more no less than we deserve
This is the price we all must pay.
Before we reach maturity
and understand what real love means.
The angst and insecurity
are rites of passage from our teens.
The trials we must undergo
before we attain self control.
Will teach us what we need to know
in order to achieve our goal.
To find a mate who we can trust
Someone to love we can respect
and say goodbye to fleeting lust.
The goal we all seek I suspect.
The passing time gives us the chance
to leave our teen age years behind
and leaves us free to find romance.
Ma Natures plans are well designed.
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Predestined? for My Lady Irene
Her eyes are like unto the sea
their colour changing constantly
Their beauty has ensorcelled me.
Try as I might I can’t break free.
The lady is quite innocent
I must absolve her from intent
I met her gaze by accident.
But the effect is permanent.
I was not searching for romance
but captivated by her glance,
I was resolved to take a chance
to change my future circumstance.
Was I a fool to entertain
the faintest hope that I might gain,
the lady’s heart or live in pain
and still a bachelor remain
The burning question had to be.
What did the lady think of me?
and could she possibly agree
to dare to share her life with me.
Although we think we have free will.
Mother Nature has the skill
to create plans we must fulfil.
So we obey or foot the bill.
Regretting that we did not do
what Mother Nature meant us to.
It seem the lady felt this too.
An old, old tale forever new.
04/06/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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