Que Sera, Sera
Que Sera, Sera
A New Year lies ahead of us. I must admit I’m curious.
to see if experts prophecies will turn out to be theories.
Which passing time will not sustain and leave the experts to explain.
Just how and why they got it wrong I’m sure they’ll sing the same old song.
We’re only men what we express is just an educated guess.
You have to place it in context. They do not know what will come next.
No more than any other man.Although they all profess they can
interpret the faint signs they see and can predict with accuracy.
What events will come to be but get it wrong consistently
That’s why I listen cynically and mostly unbelievingly.
When experts choose to air their views, I find their words of little use.
I much prefer to wait and see: What fate decrees will come to be..
1-Jan-09
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I wish you all a happy and peaceful 2009
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
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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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Boundless curiosity for friend Thad.
The world is full of mysteries.
Colossal buildings left behind
by earlier societies.
Their purposes still ill defined
Although the archaeologists
advance their favourite theories.
The mysteries will long persist.
Their different hypotheses.
Cannot be proven any way.
They’re based on their experience
Of living in the world to day.
A different frame of reference.
Which cannot possibly apply
They saw the world quite differently.
I do not think we can deny
We’re blinkered in the way we see.
The evidence which we can find,
We can’t interpret properly
The artefacts they left behind
Their uses are a mystery.
Though we attempt to classify
we can’t be sure we are correct.
These relics from past history
aren’t always what we would expect.
Temples and Tombs or Palaces
The truth is that we do not know
Secular or sacred places.
There is no evidence to show.
That we can state with confidence
confirms our modern theories.
We have no point of reference
With which everyone agrees.
The arguments rage to and fro
As experts wrangle bitterly
They daren’t admit they do not know.
Although they don’t quite obviously.
At best an educated guess
Must be the best we can expect.
From experts trying to impress
The other experts I suspect.
It seems to me improbable
That we will solve these mysteries
Our mind sets aren’t comparable
as different as chalk and cheese.
But still we are compelled to try
because these monuments exist.
Our boundless curiosity
will not allow us to desist.
Saturday,24 April 2010
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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I know what is best for me!
.
I did not think I’d live to see.
Three quarters of a century.
But I’m still here hale and hearty.
I shouldn’t be statistically.
The doctors make me furious
and not a little curious.
They say they what’s best for us.
To me it’s very obvious
They have convenient memories.
As they promote their theories
of things they say will damage us.
I find it frankly ludicrous
I started smoking when I was ten.
Doctors advising way back then
to anyone who would listen.
Smoking did no harm to men.
But this is now and that was then.
The modern breed of medicine men
Have changed what they believe again
Admitting they were mistaken.
If they were wrong back in the past
And those beliefs are over cast.
They may have got it wrong again
I wonder why they can’t explain.
Why I should believe their views.
I find they are of little use.
They change their minds too frequently
I am entitled to refuse.
I disregard their theories.
I choose to live the way I please.
I smoke and drink because I choose.
A gamble I can win or lose.
When I reach my centenerary
I will review most probably.
The latest views of medicine men
I have no doubt they’ll change again.
Thursday,26 August 2010
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Knock.knock who's there for M 'ladyErnestine
The poltergeist, mischievous sprite
who taps and knocks to cause alarm
and can move things about by night.
A nuisance but does little harm.
It is to be found most commonly
up to his scalliwaggery.
Where one approaching puberty
creates him quite unconsciously.
He’s not a separate entity
but an extension of the mind.
Which can act independently
in some way as yet undefined.
Or so psychiatrists believe
and who can prove their words untrue
Their explanations don’t achieve
an end to what is troubling you.
A poltergeist a noisy ghost
does little harm to anyone
. His mostly unsuspecting host
often a girl sometimes a boy.
A child who quite unconsciously
expresses feelings they can’t show
with openness and honesty.
When they mature the ghost will go.
There are some things you can’t explain
no matter how hard you may try.
The experts need to think again
if they’re to solve this mystery.
But they maintain as experts do
that their opinions are correct.
Although sometimes this may be true.
Some times it is not I suspect.
For Poltergeists obey no rules
Although the experts think they do
Just self opinionated fools
who know less than they think they do.
14-Sep-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Confounded Experts for Joe Poewhit
An artefact of machined steel
found buried in a deep coal seam.
The experts say it can’t be real
it does not fit with their world scheme.
The all insist it cannot be.
Be cause the know they can’t explain
this very strange anomaly
and so they bury it again.
They hide it very carefully.
Conceal the fact that it exists
forget about it quietly.
But awkward objects will persist.
So in due course it surfaces
as it was always certain to.
The so called experts have to face
awkward questions asked anew.
They do not know but dare not say.
this artefact defies their skill
They still cannot explain away
the artefact and never will.
They lack all credibility
Their rigid minds so tightly closed
They can dismiss reality
when it is not as they supposed.
An ancient machined artefact
found buried deep in a coal seam
Preserved for ages quite intact
Confounds the experts it would seem.
03/06/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Don't ask me
Sometimes I see though partially.
Like images through frosted glass.
Beyond control, sporadically
A foretaste of what is to come.
Sometimes reflections from the past.
Abilities which are not welcome.
A family trait inherited
an extra sensitivity
At times we see the way ahead.
But what we see we do not say.
Because we know we cannot change
future events in any way.
This is the cross we have to bear
the second sight can be a curse
to know but know we cannot share.
I would prefer that I was blind
Unable to see through the mists
.I feel that fate has been unkind.
To grant a talent I can’t use
It seems quite purposeless to me
If I had choice I would refuse.
I do not really want to see
what lies ahead for anyone.
What fate decrees will come to be.
I did not choose I was chosen
to inherit this ability
to see what lies beyond our ken.
My family is known to be
possessors of the second sight
but taught to use it sparingly.
I dare not share the things I see.
I can’t be sure I am correct
I will not share. So don’t ask me.
15/06/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Proof positive 2011
Proof positive 2011
This tree is where no tree should be.
It clings to life precariously.
From whence it cam nobody knows.
All that we know is that it grows.
Although it’s stunted gnarled and bent.
It has survived that’s evident.
Perchance it’s where it should not be.
It does not matter to the tree.
This is the only place it knows
and so it very slowly grows.
Defying rules conceived by men
It forces them to think again.
Although the experts all agree.
It’s an impossibility
The tree discounts the experts view
A seed took root and simply grew.
That’s all seeds know how to do.
Its mere existence proves it’s true.
Tuesday,27 December 2011 http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Applied Psychology for M Lady Ernestine
When I was just a little lad
sometimes I used to hate my dad.
It was his job so he taught me.
I must pay for being naughty
He took his slipper to my bum
and beat me like kettle drum.
He taught me there was a price to pay
each time I chanced to go astray.
He was determined to teach me
that I could not go scot free.
He was responsible for m
and took his duty seriously.
Unlike the spoilt brats of today
who simply go their own sweet way.
Now Dads are not allowed to tan
their backsides. So they think they can
misbehave with impunity
Upset the whole community.
Todays child care experts advise
you cannot physically chastise
For they see this as child abuse.
The experts say you cannot use.
My Das applied psychology
involving slippers bums and knees
I general I obey the law
but I believe they should restore.
A fathers right to teach his kid
In the way my father did.
I still remember easily
the lessons I learned painfully.
16-Jan-09
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Que Sera, Sera
(written by j. livingston and r. evans)
Were gathered here this evening to testify
And I want you to know the words for today is let go
(well) ha, I want you to let go
And I want you to just sit back
And relax and open you hearts, your mind and
Let it go, go, go, go, go
Wed like to tell you a story this evening
Havent not so long, long, long ago
Its a story about you and me
Oh, yeah
This is how it goes
When I was just a little girl
I asked my mother what will I be
(ooh, will I be pretty) yeah (will I be rich)
Heres what she said to me
Que, sera, sera, whatever will be
Hee, hee, hee, hee
Ha, oh, oh, oh, because, because
The future is not for us to see, no
Que sera (que sera) que sera (que sera)
Que sera, oh--- yeah
When I grew up and fell in love
I asked my lover, ooh, baby
Baby what will I be (hmm, oh, oh, oh)
What will I be
(will I have...)
Heres what my baby said to me
He said que sera, sera
I just wanna say that whatever will be
Hee, hee, hee, hee
(oh---)
Que, que sera, oh, oh, oh, oh (sera) oh (sera)
Oh, hey, hey, whatever, whatever, whatever, whatever
Whatever will be, will be
Surely, surely, surely, surely, surely
Surely be, hoo
All because the future is not for us to see
(ooh, no, no, no, no) que sera
(que sera) que sera (que sera)
Que---sera, I want yaul to ....
-musical interlude-
Oh, oh, oh
Que sera, oh
Sera, oh
Sera, whatever, hoo, will be, hoo, yeah
I know, I know, at least I hope that you know
The fu---ture is not for us to see
Que sera (que sera) que sera (que sera)
Oh well, well , well, well, well, well, well
Que------hey, sera-----
Oh, oh--, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Que-----oh, oh, oh!
song performed by by Natalie Cole
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Far Memory.
I’m haunted by strange memories
of places I have never been
I can remember vividly
Street scenes I know I have not seen
It’s very strange and puzzles me.
I cannot see how possibly
I have access to memories
I know do not belong to me.
I see street scenes from long ago.
Though where they are I do not know.
The clothes are unfamiliar.
To me they seem peculiar.
I think it may be Budapest.
But honestly that’s just a guess.
It could be almost anywhere.
But I am sure I’ve not been there.
My wife suggests telepathy.
I do not see how it could be.
A temporal anomaly
which can’t exist apparently.
The learned experts all agree
it’s an impossibility
But can’t explain how I can see
Scenes from the eighteenth century.
I have a photograph which shows.
People in old fashioned clothes.
Which was taken in old Moscow
More than a hundred years ago.
Establishing the verity
Of the intrusive memories
The scenes I see so vividly.
Though how remains a mystery.
I know they are real memories.
Although the experts disagree.
I hope to prove eventually
these memories have reality.
They are passed down genetically.
Encoded in our DNA.
I will research my family tree
and try to prove it come what may.
Although it’s just a theory.
I will pursue it ardently
Some body in my ancestry
may well turn out to be.
A man who lived in old Moscow
Who emigrated to the west.
Although perhaps I’ll never know.
It gives my life an interest.
I like to think that there might be
somebody in my family tree.
Who will prove to be the key
which will unlock the mystery.
Of who perhaps I used to be
in the eighteenth century.
Which would explain the memories
apparently passed down to me
Saturday,21 August 2010
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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The piper plays his clans lament.Story poem
On cold grey days, a piper plays
his pibroch on the battlements.
Clad in the garb of bygone days.
He proudly plays his clans lament.
From down below he can be seen
but no one knows who he might be
A misty figure on the scene
Bewailing his clan’s history.
The swank young men who fought and died
in foreign wars far from their home
their sacrifice can’t be denied.
He bids their long dead spirits come.
Come back braw lads where ye belong
Ye have been far too long away.
He guides them home a mighty throng.
His bounden duty is to play.
Should you attempt to draw too near
all you will find is empty space.
The piper simply disappears.
No one has ever seen his face.
The locals know and understand
He too is dead another ghost
Who still obeys his last command
a phantom who sticks to his post.
A sight the tourists come to see
and vainly try to photograph.
of course they cannot possibly.
Their efforts make the locals laugh.
On certain days the piper plays
the tourists have to make their choice
Though most arrive on sunlit days
if he appears they will rejoice.
They have more chance on sad grey days
to see the piper through the mist.
the locals know the piper’s ways.
The legend cannot be dismissed.
The experts may explain away
the ghostly figure. which appears.
But can’t account in any way
for the lament which they can hear.
So they pretend it is the wind
a rather silly thing to do.
All experts have a tight closed mind
and can’t accept the story’s true.
I disregard the experts view
for I have seen and I have heard.
and know that others have done too
Expert opinions are absurd.
Why can’t the learned fools accept
the piper’s presence as a fact.
Their explanations are inept.
Forgive me for my lack of tact.
I can forgive stupidity
Ignorance is an excuse.
I state my case with clarity
most experts are of little use
Outside their field of expertise.
I much prefer the locals view
The piper’s visits will not cease
until he has good reason to.
17/06/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Que sera sera
When the words are flowing and written
It’s the feeling I could express
Will it be read or immediately forgotten
Will it be an anchor or scrabble of confusion?
I don’t care of those things
Que sera sera
What ever will be, will be
As long as I could be honest to myself
Que sera sera
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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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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A different song for Friend Howard
Highways, byways and motorways
are very much the same to me.
I much prefer the bridle ways
Those quiet lanes are traffic free.
I care not where the path may lead.
I stroll along at my own pace.
I’m free from any need for speed
I am quite happy to retrace
my steps. Should I mistake
the path I follow get it wrong
What does it matter if I take?
a shortcut which proves to be long.
I opted out of life’s rat race.
I am at no mans beck and call
I choose my way and choose my pace
and don’t regret my choice at all.
I live my life free from all stress
I only have myself to please.
No time constraints to cause distress.
I freed myself from that disease.
Time does not matter not to me
I thought it did but I was wrong.
At last I am completely free
To listen to a different song.
14-Nov-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Like it or not, we have placed our destiny in the hands of the experts. A politician is, after all, a kind of expert, if self-styled. Even the fact that competent experts must serve under politicians of mediocre intelligence and little foresight is a problem that we are stuck with, because the experts themselves cannot agree on any major world issue. A logocracy of quarreling experts might be no better than the rule of the mediocrities to which we are subject. The declining intellectual quality of political leadership is the result of the growing complexity of the world. Since no one, be he endowed with the highest wisdom, can grasp it in its entirety, it is those who are least bothered by this who strive for power.
quote by Stanislaw Lem
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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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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Potsherds
Collectors of antiquities.
Renowned for eccentricities
are very often to be found
hanging round some battle ground
Dug up by archaelogists.
For whom they are apologists,
they are ready to accept.
Some archaeologists’ concept,
his latest greatest theory
of what some artefact might be.
Although in truth they do not know.
They will insist it must be so.
Professional experts every one
who are convinced that they are right.
They make deductions based upon
false premises to my delight.
They either can’t or won’t admit
that their opinions might be wrong.
They are convinced and that is it
The rest of us should go along.
With what they say no argument.
What can we know which they do not.
They’re sometimes right by accident
but just as often they are not.
The Piltdown man a clever hoax
fooled all the experts for decades.
Yet still some of these learned folks
do not believe mistakes are made.
I often watch with interest
the TV documentaries.
Which put their ideas to the test
and prove they’re only theories.
3-Nov-07
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Whatever Will Be Will Be
Got a letter just the other day
So much was left unsaid
When you went away
How my heart grew so cold
From the misery of dreams ago
An open envelope
The last time that we spoke
You said that you would always be my man
And now this letters here
What will you say my dear
To bring me to emotions once again
The truth of it you say
Theres never been day
That youre not sorry you apologize
But life teaches new things
Beyond the pain it brings
You to a place where you are truly wise
Que sera sera
What will be will be
Im happy for you and me
That we can finally see what was meant
Que sera sera
What will be will be
Im happy for you and me
That we can finally see what was meant
I know weve made mistakes
Cause love is give and take
I mean to say it wasnt all your fault
I too had some regrets
Such pain Ive felted yet
Its better to have love than not at all
The memories we had of all the good and bad
Has helped me be the woman that I am
So dont apologize
Ive come to realize
Just what is meant by all in love is fair
Que sera sera
What will be will be
Im happy for you and me
That we can finally see what was meant
Que sera sera
What will be will be
Im happy for you and me
That we can finally see what was meant
Sometimes its just not meant to be
But the love that we share goes on and on
Spiritually therell be no more crying
No and therell be no more lying no no no no no
And the truth that we gained will offset the pain
And now we finally see
Que sera sera
What will be will be
Im happy for you and me
That we can finally see what was meant
Que sera sera
What will be will be
Im happy for you and me
That we can finally see what was meant
Hmm hmm hey ooh yeah oh
Ooh
song performed by by En Vogue
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Opposing views.
Opposing views.
Alone outlined against the skies.
An ancient druid proudly stands
Or so it seems to human eyes.
Upright erect with outstretched hands.
As if appealing for Gods aid
Against the Roman conquerors
Who have decided to invade
and stamp the old ways out by force.
But only when the sun is high
At other times it’s just a tree.
A trick of light deceives the eye.
Although the locals disagree.
They disregard the experts view.
For they still hold the legend true.
Friday,12 November 2010
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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The best laid plans for J.T Ellison
The best laid plans
He sits and thinks but rarely shares
the subject of his pondering
He is convinced nobody cares
to hear his views on anything.
He does not like to watch T.V.
unlike the other residents.
He’s happy sitting quietly
Reviewing long ago events.
When he was self sufficient.
Intelligent and capable
‘til a cerebral accident
which rendered him incapable
of living independently.
Forced his reception into care
although it’s very plain to see
He would much rather be elsewhere.
Though he’s disabled physically
His mental capability
is not impaired apparently.
He accepts philosophically.
Life rarely goes as you have planned.
We meet with things we don’t expect
for fate not man is in command
What fate decrees we must accept.
22/04/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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