En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Long Forgotten for Friend David Threadgold

Who dares?
Disturb my peace
after so may years.

My sleep
was undisturbed.
Who is it dares to peep.

This grave
is mine alone.
It is all that I have.

To show
who I once was.
What do you seek to know?

My bones.
Are all that’s left
here beneath these stones.

Which mark
my resting place
Here in the quiet dark.

Begone
you have no right
in truth to look upon.

Remains
mouldering here
What do you hope to gain.

Leave me
in peace and go.
Your curiosity

Is no
concern of mine.
Why should you seek to know.

Why I
am buried here.
Dry bones will not reply.

My curse
will fall on you.
Things go from bad to worse.

Swiftly
flee from this place.
Where you’re not meant to be.

I lay
hidden from sight
for years until today.

Why do
you disturb me.
There is no reason to.

Leave me
to sleep in peace
here where I ought to be.

Alone
Contentedly
hidden away unknown

.14-Sep-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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I don't regret what might have been.

When the sun sets and the world is still.
I seek release in solitude
This is my time for memories
Some I can recall vividly
Selected from the multitude
Of dreams which I could not fulfil.

Some were my own and some were not
I can look back in retrospect.
Though some quite unexpectedly
Decide to surface suddenly.
Each one is worthy of respect
Although they have been long forgot.

The quiet time that lies between
The end of day and fall of night
Would seem to be appropriate
To sit alone and meditate
After the sun fades from sight
and contemplate what might have been.

Eventually I must conclude.
That I am where I’m meant to be
Some times I tried only to fail
My efforts were to no avail.
When I look back nostalgically
I know it’s just an interlude.

I’m well aware that all too soon.
I must accept reality.
The humdrum world of every day.
Is never very far away
And banishes my reverie
Beneath newly risen moon.

I face the morrow with a smile
Because I know the sun will set
Then I seek my solitude
Enjoy the peace and quietude.
That I so very seldom get.
If only for a little while.

I tend to stick to my routine
I am too old to change my ways
I see no reason why I should
The peace and quiet does me good
As I review my glory days.
I don’t regret what might have been.

Sunday,04 September 2011
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Let me keep watch

Let me keep watch
Over your body when
You are resting in peace.
Let me sacrifice
My meditation to you
When you are resting in peace
Let me protect your body
From rotting
When you are resting in peace.
Let me protect your memories
And dreamless dreams
When you are resting in peace.
Let me plant a fruit tree
Above you that I may still eat
When you are resting in peace.
Let me storm the gates of heaven
When you are resting in peace.
Let me give you oblation
Of our experience
When you are resting in peace.
Let me breathe for you
When you are resting in peace.
Let me douse the fires of hell
When you are resting in peace.
Let me glorify your name
When you are resting in peace.
Let me be your counterpoint
When you are resting in peace.
Let me overcome the light
When you are resting in peace.
Let me touch your organs
When you are resting in peace.
Let me drink your water
When you are resting in peace.
Let me describe your bones
When you are resting in peace.
Let me dream your dreams
When you are resting in peace.

poem by David E. Patton
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R.I.P story poem

Here where once there used to be.
A quiet village cemetery
A hallowed place in which to find
Tranquillity and peace of mind.

The graveyard served the village well
Though for how long no man can tell.
I’m sad to say the village died.
The land on which they all relied.

Suddenly lost fertility.
The people facing poverty.
Saw no good reason they should stay
and one by one they moved away.

To other places far from here
they seemed to simply disappear
to destinations we don’t know.
They had no choice they had to go

Houses fell into disrepair
because there was no one to care.
The passing years were none too kind.
There’s very little left to find.

Bar rotten floorboards here and there.
Weeds in profusion everywhere
The churchyard too is over grown
with brambles hiding each gravestone.

A long forgotten tragedy
a piece of ancient history.
The city suburbs must expand
and in their search for building land.

The greedy eyes are cast this way.
They know they will not have to pay.
The true worth of this empty land,
The kind of price it will command.

When it is cleared ready to build.
They hope their coffers will be filled.
But fate has other plans in mind
and to their great surprise they’ll find

That they have made a grave mistake.
The profits which they hope to make.
Will not now materialise.
Because they failed recognise.

The old grave yard as hallowed ground
Despite the evidence they found.
They wantonly destroyed head stones
showed no respect for buried bones.

It makes me happy to report
the vaunted plans all came to naught.
Because some archaeologists
Researching local history lists

Discovered this old cemetery
and they decided it must be.
Preserved in perpetuity
for generations yet to be.

The greedy men had lost their cash
Their dreams of profit turned to ash

the damage done for no reward.

The good folk who were buried here
can sleep in peace they need not fear.
That their rest will be disturbed.
The greedy builders have been curbed.

A happy ending to my tale
Their efforts were to no avail.
It seems that fate itself decreed
they must be punished for their greed.

Wednesday,28 July 2010 http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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The Hills Abide

The everlasting hills their secrets keep
concealed in paces where men rarely tread.
Lie mouldering bones of men who are long dead
What caused their death nobody knows or cares.
In quietude and solitary they sleep.
Their skeletons defy the passing years.

The peaceful hills have seen men come and go.
Some few remain but most are passing through
In search of land to settle. Somewhere new.
Where they can raise their crops and live in peace
in the more fertile bottom lands below.
Protected from the winds that never cease.

Across the ancient hills which can endure
as they have done for passing centuries
The heat of summer and the winter’s freeze.
The hardy breed of men who chose to stay.
Were slow and steady men but very sure
they could and would survive in their own way.

The half wild sheep which graze these ancient hills.
Know much more than their shepherds know
of secret trails that wander to and fro.
Across the vast expanse beneath the sky
from sheltered sheepfolds to the flowing rills.
The sheep accept and do not wonder why.

11-Jun-08

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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Peace on Earth

He took a frayed hat from his head,
And “Peace on Earth” was what he said.
“A morsel out of what you’re worth,
And there we have it: Peace on Earth.
Not much, although a little more
Than what there was on earth before
I’m as you see, I’m Ichabod,—
But never mind the ways I’ve trod;
I’m sober now, so help me God.”

I could not pass the fellow by.
“Do you believe in God?” said I;
“And is there to be Peace on Earth?”

“Tonight we celebrate the birth,”
He said, “of One who died for men;
The Son of God, we say. What then?
Your God, or mine? I’d make you laugh
Were I to tell you even half
That I have learned of mine today
Where yours would hardly seem to stay.
Could He but follow in and out
Some anthropoids I know about,
The god to whom you may have prayed
Might see a world He never made.”

“Your words are flowing full,” said I;
“But yet they give me no reply;
Your fountain might as well be dry.”

“A wiser One than you, my friend,
Would wait and hear me to the end;
And for his eyes a light would shine
Through this unpleasant shell of mine
That in your fancy makes of me
A Christmas curiosity.
All right, I might be worse than that;
And you might now be lying flat;
I might have done it from behind,
And taken what there was to find.
Don’t worry, for I’m not that kind.
‘Do I believe in God?’ Is that
The price tonight of a new hat?
Has he commanded that his name
Be written everywhere the same?
Have all who live in every place
Identified his hidden face?
Who knows but he may like as well
My story as one you may tell?
And if he show me there be Peace
On Earth, as there be fields and trees
Outside a jail-yard, am I wrong
If now I sing him a new song?
Your world is in yourself, my friend,
For your endurance to the end;
And all the Peace there is on Earth
Is faith in what your world is worth,
And saying, without any lies,
Your world could not be otherwise.”

“One might say that and then be shot,”
I told him; and he said: “Why not?”
I ceased, and gave him rather more
Than he was counting of my store.
“And since I have it, thanks to you,
Don’t ask me what I mean to do,”
Said he. “Believe that even I
Would rather tell the truth than lie—
On Christmas Eve. No matter why.”

His unshaved, educated face,
His inextinguishable grace.
And his hard smile, are with me still,
Deplore the vision as I will;
For whatsoever he be at,
So droll a derelict as that
Should have at least another hat.

poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson
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No remorse story poem

No remorse

Beneath the waves my lover lies.
They search for her without success.
I see suspicion in their eyes
They do not know but some still guess

I loved her well and faithfully.
I thought she was the perfect wife.
Behind my back she betrayed me.
I had the right to take her life.

Or would have had long years ago
The price of infidelity
was to be slain and justly so.
Though today’s laws do not agree.

I could not kill her openly.
Though she had earned the punishment.
I had to plan it carefully
and see no reason to repent.

My conscience does not bother me.
I still sleep peacefully at nights.
She feeds the fish beneath the sea.
I wish them hearty appetites.

I have no doubt that in due course
the tides will wash her bones ashore.
I do believe I had just cause.
She won’t betray me any more

D.N.A may identify
to whom the naked bones belong
but never how she came to die
Nor will they prove that it was wrong.

It could have been an accident.
Or a guilt induced suicide.
The only thing that I resent
That I had no choice but to hide

The punishment she well deserved.
Instead of acting openly
I think that justice has been served.
Though no one knows the truth but me.

My lover lies beneath the waves
I visit her quite frequently
as other people visit graves
I walk the shore beside the sea.

22-Aug-08

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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Peace be with you (Latin-Pax Vobiscum)

Oh God! I need a quiet place,
Where flows the nectar of peace,
Not that kind of dead peace,
In the grave, one finds with ease.

I went to the Himalayas Mountain,
But peace there was no certain,
As the solitude tore my mind,
A little peace when I tried to find.

I heard good spiritual lectures,
Those from eminent preachers,
For peace, I left no place unturned,
But with a perturbed mind I returned.

Tell me, oh God, that unknown place,
Where lies that elusive peace,
What I need, now I can find,
So, I’ll have peace of mind.

God answered, “Hey you fool,
First learn to keep yourself cool,
Don’t search elsewhere out,
But dive deep into your heart.”

“Peace isn’t an object that lies outside,
But it’s a feeling that’s generated inside.
Learn to cultivate peace in your heart.
To enjoy this peace, better you now start.”

“Know this I’m in your heart.
I fill it up with peace quite a lot.
This divine peace when you merit,
No need to go elsewhere for it.”

poem by Rajaram Ramachandran
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I Go Out On The Road Alone

Alone I set out on the road;
The flinty path is sparkling in the mist;
The night is still. The desert harks to God,
And star with star converses.

The vault is overwhelmed with solemn wonder
The earth in cobalt aura sleeps. . .
Why do I feel so pained and troubled?
What do I harbor: hope, regrets?

I see no hope in years to come,
Have no regrets for things gone by.
All that I seek is peace and freedom!
To lose myself and sleep!

But not the frozen slumber of the grave...
I'd like eternal sleep to leave
My life force dozing in my breast
Gently with my breath to rise and fall;

By night and day, my hearing would be soothed
By voices sweet, singing to me of love.
And over me, forever green,
A dark oak tree would bend and rustle.

poem by Mikhail Yuryevich Lermontov
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Peace Be With You, My Brother

You have bitten my arm and
Drawn blood
Peace be with you my brother
You have gnawed my bones and
Eaten my leaves
Peace be with you my brother
You have withered my mother and
Stolen the years
Peace be with you my brother
You have taken my wife and
Left with my trust
Peace be with you my brother
And now life is good
Full and drunk
Pain part of the arc
Love is free and easy
Love is pulled from the dark
Sun is warm
Rain is fresh
And years flow
As years and water should
Peace be with you my brother

poem by Guillermo Veloso
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Lost legion for Friend Thad

The earth beneath the desert sun is baked to shades of brown and dun.
A sea of sand which ceaselessly moves with wind uneasily.
The land marks here are far and few but known by those belonging to the nomad bands who freely roam this sea of sand and call it home.
A people fierce and proud and free who guard their secrets ruthlessly.
Intruders are not welcome here; invaders simply disappear.
Their fate is very seldom known, the desert can protect its own
Whole Roman legions were erased their resting place cannot be traced.
The desert knows but will not speak some bones are found by those who seek
to solve the ancient mysteries. Perhaps rewrite the histories.
To validate their theories of how an army disappears.
without a clues as to their fate. A subject open to debate.

The desert sands move constantly, sometimes revealing teasingly
bleached bones and weapons on the sand which scholars strive to understand.
Does it matter anyway? Why do we seek to know today
what happened to the lost legion. Although the legend lingers on.
The desert will not satisfy our burning curiosity
The desert knows but will not share the scholars find this hard to bear.
The desert lands conceal with ease volumes of untold histories.
Which earnest scholars yearn to read, perhaps one day they will succeed.
But until then the burning sun will bake the earth to brown and dun
Maintaining its long secrecy in brooding silent dignity.

30-Dec-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Are you afraid of the dark for M' lady Tara

The silent shadows secretly
hide in dark corners through the day.
They are aware that they must wait
until nightfall to congregate.

In the open and combine
into something man can’t define.
An entity with one desire
to terrify and to inspire.

In the hearts and minds of men
old atavistic memories
The fears their forbears knew again
from which they can gain no release,

As long as total darkness reigns
When dawn breaks; then the sun will rise.
The shadows flee to hide again.
Conceal them selves from human eyes..

As always they will lie in wait
in hidden corners out of sight.
Patiently to congregate
to celebrate the fall of night.

When shadows come into their own.
Reviving mankind’s ancient fears
of darkness when daylight has flown.
As they have done for countless years,

and will for all the years to come.
Although the modern man believes
Such foolish fears he’ll overcome
It’s only himself he deceives.

13/05/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Farewell Ritual.

The rifles bark their last salute.
To say farewell to a comrade.
The tears of mourners follow suit.
The last post sounds: A serenade
or better yet a lullaby
To lull a valiant soul to sleep.
A tribute to his memory.
The price of freedom is not cheap.
Another human sacrifice
offered to the God of War.
He earned his place in paradise
to rest in peace for evermore.
A sight we see too frequently
In military cemeteries.

Friday,27 August 2010
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Twilight

When twilight falls silently
It’s time to meditate,
As daylight drains away
consider thoughtfully.
the events of the day.

When twilight falls silently
the ending of the day
My worries disappear
I sit in solitude
my mind becomes clear.

When twilight falls silently.
The quiet soothes me,
I find I can release
the stress I do not need.
An interlude of peace

When twilight falls silently.
I know what I must do.
Submit to reverie.
no one will disturb me.
At least not easily

18-Mar-09
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Monchielle

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Insanity Rules

Slip loose the moorings of your mind.
Freely embrace insanity
it’s freedom of a different kind
from mere eccentricity.
Once you have been certified
they don’t expect normality
You basic needs will be supplied
accommodation is rent free.
No need to rise unless you choose.
You have no need to earn your keep.
No knotty problems to confuse
your mind, which might disturb your sleep..
So why not choose to be insane.
You will lose less than you can gain.

01/05/2009 http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers

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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Ebenezer Shillingtree.R.I.P

I sit and muse amongst the tombs.
Only disturbed by sonic booms
as fighter planes pass overhead.
A noise enough to wake the dead.
The dead do not agree with me.
Continue sleeping peacefully.
Planes interrupt my train of thought
I cannot get the peace I sought
I seek peace in this cemetery
So I can write my poetry
The dead don’t question what I do.
Perhaps they might do if they knew.
Their headstones can inspire me
I use their strange names shamelessly.

18-May-08

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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Forbidden Territory for M lady Kelly Houseman

I tend my gardens on the moon
The far side which the earth can’t see.
Although I fear that very soon
astronauts will visit me.

I’ll hide my gardens from their eyes.
This is a place they should not be.
This is no time for compromise.
I will repel them forcibly

I value highly solitude
and my hard won serenity
I disdain men’s attitude.
They’re lacking in maturity.

A member of an older race
I’ve paid my dues and earned the right
To protect my own living space
which I keep hidden out of sight.

Intruders I won’t tolerate
I will destroy them instantly
and leave no trace as to their fate.
If they intrude impudently.

I tend my gardens on the moon
with loving care contentedly
and ask from fate one single boon.
No astronaut should bother me.

I live alone because I choose
Preferring my own company
for others I have little use.
In perfect self sufficiency.

13-Aug-08

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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Path Of Peace

Path Of Peace
By Paul Mc Cann

Peace is an easy path to tread
Peace is where our fears are mislaid
Peace is beginning to restore
Peace for each man, woman and child
Peace for the troubled streets gone wild
Peace is for the old and the young
Peace in the end will overcome
Peace builds trust into a lifestyle
Peace is a friendly open hand
Peace is a place to understand
Peace in the end will overcome
Peace is for the old and the young
Peace is a legacy to leave
Peace is when we don't have to grieve
Peace is and end to all the hate
Peace is why we negotiate
Peace for all the victims of war

poem by Paul McCann
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Eternal Guardians fr M lady Fiona

To you a thousand years would seem
as a mere moment passing by
The faintest echo of a dream
that would not even justify.

The opening of a watchful eye
nor yet the twitching of an ear
From guardian dragons who still lie
in peaceful sleep not far from here.

As they have done for centuries.
Until some danger threatens. Then
they will fulfil the prophecies.
Take to the skies to protect men.

Or so the ancient legends say.
Though disbelieved by modern men.
It may be true I cannot say
the dragons will not fly again.

The time will come when they must fly
emerging from their hiding place.
What the will modern man reply
to saviours of the human race.

25-Jan-09

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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Indian Pipes

THE pipes of peace! Erect and white
In this dark, piney place where light
May enter seldom,—thus they grow
Up from the mold and mosses low,
Like ghostly shadows of the night.

This was the spot,—I know it well.
Here died the chief, so legends tell:
From out the shade a traitor dart
Sped to its mark in that brave heart;
I found an arrow where he fell.

And deep below the moss and mold
They say his bones lie stark and cold;
Yet never dared men seek him here,—
It is so still, so dark, so drear,
The pines so lone, his grave so old.

O pipes of peace, why do ye spring
From this red soil, from that dread Thing?
Could peace for his fierce ashes wait?
A life of war, a death of hate,—
What did that fateful arrow bring?

In Happy Hunting Grounds is he
Atone with every enemy?
There doth he puff the peace-pipe slow?—
Methinks pale smoke-wreaths curl to me.

poem by Abbie Farwell Brown from The New England Magazine / Volume 22, Issue 6 (1897)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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