Poetpower
Poetpower
Poets are a necessity
as every thinking person knows.
The conscience of society.
Who else but poets dare to pose.
Hard questions to the powers that be
which they could answer if they chose.
Instead of imposed secrecy.
Which gives us reason to suppose.
That they have something to conceal.
So we suspect dishonesty.
Our probing questions will reveal
it’s mainly inefficiency.
Which does not alter how we feel.
If the admitted openly
The problems which they now conceal
We’d listen sympathetically.
Instead of treating us like fools.
Who have no right or need to know
They hide behind their book of rules
try to maintain the status quo
We poets use our words as tools
to prove to them it isn’t so
for public tolerance soon cools.
A truth they do not seem to know.
01/05/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
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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Evolution
Long, long ago as poets know.
A sonnet was a little song
without rules you had to follow.
There was no way you could go wrong.
Petrarch invented a fixed form
and then Will Shakespeare altered it.
Both are accepted as the norm
although they vary quite a bit.
Since Will most poets had a try
to write a sonnet in their way.
The hide bound purists can't deny
there’s many sonnet forms today.
Like any art fine poetry
evolves and improves constantly.
28-Nov-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Unexpected Elegance for M lady Dee Daffodil
Once I met a well known poet.
He was dressed conservatively
I was surprised but did not show it.
He was not as I thought he would be.
Noted for eccentricity.
In his writing, Avant Garde.
I thought he’d dress outrageously
and I found it rather hard
to accept he was so clean and neat
and not all as I had thought.
A country gentleman complete.
Another lesson life has taught.
A plain exterior can conceal
a mind which thinks chaotically
that’s not reluctant to reveal
a hatred of normality.
Which he attacks with savagery
disregarding all the rules.
Stating unconcernedly
Conformings’s for unthinking fools.
I had expected flamboyance
but I was wrong as usual
his understated elegance.
He made appear quite natural
His mode of dress serves to conceal,
but then he states his point of view..
He sees no reason to reveal
himself until he chooses to
A more effective camouflage
which well conceals his anarchy
Which fools most people by and large.
I must confess that he fooled me..
4-Sep-08 http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Total Denial.
If the Messiah came again.
He would be certified insane.
Society could not possibly
allow him to preach and teach freely
I have no doubt he’d be confined
Because the powers that be would find.
That what he taught was dangerous
To every single one of us.
The rulers of the church and state
are not prepared to tolerate.
Any change to existing rules
which for years they’ve used as tools
To maintain the Status Quo
They do not want us all to know
They lack divine authority
They are not what they claim to be.
The guardians of morality
and keepers of the mystery.
They know the truth would set us free.
Of course they could not possibly.
Accept the fact that he might be
the ultimate authority.
They would decree that he must be
kept in protective custody.
No need for crucifixion.
Their method is a kinder one.
Keep him sedated constantly
which would work as effectively.
With no adverse publicity
Just dealt with bureaucratically.
We cannot say with certainty
The messiah is not presently.
Held in some institution
quite unknown to anyone.
Except perhaps the powers that be
Who act unjustly secretly.
08/08/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Before the beginning
Why does the human race exist?
Unanswered questions will persist.
Philosophers and scientists
All try to penetrate the mists.
It seems as if each answer found,
leads to a question more profound.
It often seems the evidence
flies in the face of common sense.
Some premises I accept as true
may seem quite different to you.
The things we know or think we know.
Frequently prove to be not so.
It all depends how we perceive
the so called facts which we believe.
Is there a God it would seem so.
I can believe but do not know.
We cannot prove it either way
and so unanswered questions stay.
Unanswered now as they have done
since mans history was begun.
Although we ask we get no reply
Is God still there or did he die?
16/04/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Take and be prepared for my friend C.P
The desert plains of ice and snow are not a place I’d choose to go.
Nor sandy wastes under the sun dry deserts don’t suit everyone.
The high plateaus of the Andes; I can assure you will not please.
Perhaps I’m choosy but I find such desert places most unkind.
I much prefer the moors I roam which welcome me. I feel at home.
Although they’re barren, wild and bleak I find the solitude I seek.
Each to his own I must suppose. My own high moors are what I chose.
I listen when they speak to me, I understand them easily.
They can be dangerous it’s true. You can take risks if you choose to.
I don’t take risks I know the rules. The high moors have no time for fools.
I have been sometimes weather bound by sudden mists which cloak the ground.
I have sufficient sense to see my moors are merely testing me.
Mistakes the moors will not forgive, I am prepared so I survive.
A wise man gives the moors respect but fools don not but they expect.
Tolerance for their carelessness their stupid unpreparedness.
The moors are not the enemy they judge all men impartially.
Some learn by hard experience there’s limits to their tolerance.
But others pay the penalty. Killed by their own stupidity.
06/09/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Dancing Words for Friend Mark Slaughter
There’s more to writing poetry,
than choosing your words carefully.
Selecting words you know will rhyme.
You must consider too the time
the beat your words will be dancing to
In just the way you want them too
.The rhythm furnished by the meter
helps your words to flow much sweeter.
The basic rules you have to learn
so you can teach them in your turn
To other poets who are new
and do not know as much as you.
The feedback which you will receive
will satisfy you I believe.
3-Mar-09
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Blind faith is not enough.
When I survey the sacred texts
and holy books of warring sects.
I must conclude they have been changed
edited and rearranged.
So that the truth they once contained
has been lost or so constrained
Although they claim to be the truth
there’s insufficient proof.
To say that this or that is true.
However much we may want to.
Some facts are true but well concealed
By churches who refuse to yield.
To share what knowledge they possess.
The truth it seems matters far less
than maintaining the status quo.
They are afraid and rightly so.
If it were proved they had repressed
the truth in their own interest,
to bolster their authority.
They’d lose all credibility.
The myths and legends may be true
I don’t believe, though some may do.
The powers that be still conceal
the evidence that could reveal.
The records have been tampered with.
What we are taught is mainly myth,
which has been altered frequently.
To suit the reigning powers that be.
To consolidate their control
Retaining power their only goal.
To dominate their fellow men
They twist the truth time and again..
Some few achieve epiphany.
They see with crystal clarity.
That God resides within us all
and he will answer if we call.
What need have we of clergymen
and their views of hell and heaven.
For answers you must look inside
To find the truth they seek to hide.
Sunday,20 June 2010
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Freedom of expression for M lady Christine Kerr
Freedom of expression
A woman cries when she is glad
A woman cries when she is mad.
A woman cries when she is sad.
Tears of pleasure, rage and grief
all bring some measure of relief
and that is why a woman cries.
But men are not supposed to cry.
Forbidden by society,
though no knows the reason why.
Men may not let their feeling sho.
Men must appear to be macho
and that is why men do not cry.
Though women claim equality.
The truth is different obviously.
Women can expect to be
allowed to cry quite openly.
But men are still inhibited
for them tears are prohibited
Although I only theorise
I’m wise enough to realise
that some men taken by surprise.
Will weep and wail as women do
and demonstrate the way they feel.
Their rage and grief is just as real.
As anything a woman a woman feels.
Why should a man try to conceal
what his hot tears clearly reveal.
That he is sad or mad or glad.
Perhaps its time to think again
what is appropriate for men.
27-Feb-09
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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I prescribe a purgative a rant
The body politic is ill
in urgent need of medicine
It seems that M.Ps lack the will
to exercise self discipline.
They claim to act within the rules.
When they make dishonest claims.
Which proves they are short sighted fools.
Some say the system is to blame
But I for one do not agree
I think each person has to use
The same standards of honesty.
The systems open to abuse,
which does not mean they have to cheat
Although it’s obvious some do
The time has come for a complete
review of rules; long overdue.
Who made the rules? The same M/Ps
who benefit from laxity
Who seem to do just as they please
and have no fear of penalties
The body politic is sick
and it grows sicker every day
This is no time for rhetoric
we have to act without delay.
Expose the loathsome parasites
who now wax fat in secrecy
and curb their greedy appetites.
It is the only remedy
The public is entitled to
demand an end to secrecy.
Insist all claims both old and new
be subject to close scrutiny.
10/05/2009 http; // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Honourable Members? ?
The politicians all agree they have more rights than you and me
They are convinced that they should be. Divorced from life’s reality
They should be allowed to make claims. to further their own ends and aims
Gain money from the public purse. Which should willingly disburse
however much they choose to claim. Because they referee the game.
The present rules are much to lax they even cheat on paying tax.
They say they play within the rules. They seem to think that we are fools
Though in the past we may have been. It is past time to change the scene.
They must repay ill gotten gains although each one of them complains
They only claimed what they were due. I don’t believe it nor do you
Perhaps some few claimed by mistake. Though most of them were on the take.
They may have started honestly but were corrupted easily.
There’s no excuse for their abuse. Their complaints are of little use.
Their penchant for dishonesty casts doubt on the integrity.
On all M.Ps who just might be untainted by dishonesty.
I am quite sure there are a few who won’t object to the review.
Which seeks to introduce new rules and put in place the correct to tools.
Which will derail the gravy train and let the honest men retain
the respect which they deserve. The ones who truly try to serve.
The thieves are a minority and should be dealt with severely.
If they prove guilty by intent then they deserve imprisonment
Like any other citizen and not allowed to stand again.
Making repayments will not do there must be prosecutions too.
They must be made to pay the price for their greed and avarice.
It was their choice to cheat and lie and I can see no reason why
the rule of law should not apply to all men even handedly.
03/11/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Prime Necessity
A house without books is a desert place
unfit for human habitation.
Sufficient cause for lamentation
a residence which lacks all claims to grace.
Though circumstances may force me to face
involuntary deprivation
Without the slightest hesitation
I would set to and fill the wasted space.
With simple wooden shelves which would display
My books neatly arranged in ordered rows
Makes them easier to find I suppose
I wonder how long they will stay that way
Verse written by master poets long since gone
Whose words live on as they were meant to do.
A lasting legacy of great value
not just to scholars but to every one.
Literature is not a luxury.
To me it is a prime necessity.
31/05/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Good Poets and Bad Poets
Some poets get awards and think they are good poets.
Some poets never get awards and think they are bad poets.
Some poets think they are good poets only in their own mind
Some poets think they are bad poets in somebody's else mind.
Some poets think they are good poets in somebody else mind.
Some poets think others think they are good poets but they don't in their hearts.
Some poets think they are good poets in their hearts but not in anyone else's mind.
All are insecure, except those who get security from the opinions of others and that, alas, doesn't last and isn't real.
Some poets have left the entire scene and live only in their mind.
Some poets take criticism and don't mind.
Some poets avoid criticism and do mind.
Some poets write poetry to get love.
Some poets love to write poetry.
Some poets are ahead of their time, in their mind
Some poets spend a lifetime feeling like failures in their mind
Some poets live only after they die.
Some poets have much to say but can't articulate
Some poets retreat, believing others don't understand
So which one of these am I?
I guess I am all of these and none of these
and no matter what my description
I intend to keep doing what I do:
Write. Right
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Complementary viewpoints for friend Chandra
Philosophy and poetry
are not completely different.
Each represents a way to see
What is not always evident.
Philosophers and poets try
to understand the universe.
The answers which they can supply.
Expressed in turgid prose or verse.
Philosophers can be abstruse
and difficult to understand
Because of how they phrase their views.
I don’t dismiss them out of hand.
I much prefer the poets verse
To endless reams of complex prose.
I do not think I am perverse
Simplicity I must suppose.
Is really what appeals to me.
the poets seek to entertain
and yet express with clarity.
Philosophers try to explain.
Their reasoning in great detail.
They just succeed in boring me
Their efforts are to no avail
I will admit quite openly
I simply cannot spare the time
To plough through densely written prose.
But I find poetry sublime
I like the way it ebbs and flows.
The insight that a poet shows
can entertain and educate.
Philosophers try to impose
their views, discouraging debate.
Which does not sit too well with me.
Folks can’t stand being patronised
and will rebel instinctively.
A fact that poets recognise.
They are content to share their thoughts.
With anyone who chooses to
read the verses they have wrought.
Which may express a different view
To that of the philosophers.
You draw your own conclusions
and choose which version you prefer.
Perhaps your own opinions.
Philosophy and poetry
Are both legitimate attempts
To explain some mystery
By folks of different temperaments.
22/08/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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I choose to protest openly.
I choose to protest openly.
I’m cynical, satirical.
Politically incorrect.
Though you agree in principal.
I sometimes think that you suspect.
I’m sometimes economical
With the truths I try to expose.
You think it may be probable.
My acid comments are a pose.
You hold your tongue in self defence.
Although you do not disagree.
You hesitate to give offence.
To the prevailing powers that be.
By staying silent you assent.
To tyranny by government.
Sunday,15 January 2012
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Of course sweetheart for M lady Tara
She rules the roost behind the scenes.
Although her husband wears the jeans.
She lets him show he is the boss
but there are lines he dare not cross.
For all his manly macho show
she knows it’s only bravado.
More importantly so does he
which he accepts apparently.
He knows quite well who’s in control
but still he plays his public role.
She treats him deferentially
whilst there’s an audience to see.
Like any man who’s seen the light.
He knows that she is always right.
Her slightest wish is his command
which isn’t hard to understand.
He’s not the tough guy he appears
She has been training him for years.
He knows: She knows, he knows she knows
His public image is a pose.
1-Jun-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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There's nothing There! ! for M lady Ernestine
She rules the roost behind the scenes.
Although her husband wears the jeans.
She lets him show he is the boss
but there are lines he dare not cross.
For all his manly macho show
she knows it’s only bravado.
More importantly so does he
which he accepts apparently.
He knows quite well who’s in control
but still he plays his public role.
She treats him deferentially
whilst there’s an audience to see.
Like any man who’s seen the light.
He knows that she is always right.
Her slightest wish is his command
which isn’t hard to understand.
He’s not the tough guy he appears
She has been training him for years.
He knows: She knows, he knows she knows
His public image is a pose.
1-Jun-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In the world of poetry there are would-be poets, workshop poets, promising poets, lovesick poets, university poets, and a few real poets.
quote by James Broughton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The poet's page
Like a band of beggars
Revealing to each other
Where to find the bread
Is the poets page
An open line
Where poets reveal what's
Inside their heads
A platform of
Artistic exchange
Where an accompany of poets
Express what should be said,
As the
Words seems to take on life
For they are poet read
Poets can feel one anothers pain
As well as relates to each
others shame
Emphasizing on a topic is
A poet's personal lane
Poets dvides the spoil
As they expand, due to
sharing their gain
This is partly my analogy
Of a poet's fame
poem by Angel A. Lockwood
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My Question for M lady Fay
There is a question I must pose
In the vain hope that someone knows
Who’s willing to enlighten me.
Before my birth where would I be
This question always puzzles me
and when I die where do I go.
I have asked priests who hesitate
to answer me, they vacillate.
Because in truth they do not know.
They quote their Holy Book to me
But I have looked and cannot see.
The answer that I seek to find.
Why is it that they pretend to know
from whence I came and where I go.
And yet they will not answer me.
My question is a simple one
I make it clear to everyone.
But no one seems to understand.
The truth is what I seek to know
From whence I came where do I go.
Will somebody please answer me.
20-Nov-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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