Scotland calling.
Scotland Calling.
A land of glens and mountain streams.
Chuckling softly as they flow
A land that haunts the exiles dreams
with memories of long ago.
The dreams they have inherited.
Passed down inside their DNA.
Although some doubts are merited
It seems to be the only way.
We can explain memories
of places we have never seen.
Though scattered through the colonies
It seems embedded in our genes.
Is an urge which prompts us to.
Visit the land our forebears knew.
Saturday,28 August 2010
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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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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Inspiration, motivation, satisfaction
Your wants and needs are not the same.
You needs you cannot do without.
Your wants are quite a different game.
Things that you choose to dream about.
Long cherished dreams can motivate
you to make that extra effort
and when you win appreciate.
It was much easier than you thought.
Some people are content to dream
others will make their dreams come true.
All part and parcel of life’s scheme.
Dreamers just dream and doers do..
Though some of us combine the two
We dream at first and then we do.
Saturday,21 August 2010
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Silent Alarm for Friend David Threadgold
The darkness hosts a multitude
of atavistic memories.
which influence our attitude
Towards the things we cannot see.
The hunting owl which quietly
on noiseless wings seeks out his prey.
His night tuned eyes can clearly see
as if it was as bright as day.
Some see him as an enemy
and view his passage with alarm.
Although he’s acting naturally
with no intent to cause them harm.
Men fear the dark which seems to be
a breeding ground for ancient fears
embedded inescapably
in memories from their forebears.
Their fear of being eaten by
some marauding predator
which pounces on them from the sky.
Man will recall for evermore.
15-Aug-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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What can you lose?
I’ve dreams to spare and dreams to share
For those of you prepared to dare
to leave behind reality
and try a little fantasy.
Although my dreams may not be new.
The promise that I make to you.
My dreams are all in good repair,
though some have seen a lot of wear.
You need not pay my dreams are free
because they’re low technology.
You do not need a power source
to view my dreams.Although of course
you must return them when you’re done
and if you’re truly satisfied
Exchange them for another one.
All sorts of dreams can be supplied.
Friday,22 January 2010
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Lack of oversight A rant
The quality of mercy is not strained.
Today it seems to be more underused.
Charity appeals have us all confused.
The urge to contribute is now constrained
We can’t be sure that anything is gained
We are afraid donations have been misused
Our generosity has been abused
Although we ask no one has explained.
Exactly where the money raised has gone.
Administration costs are far too high.
The doubts I have will linger on
Until somebody can explain why.
and what the money has been spent upon.
No one accepts responsibility.
Sunday,28 February 2010
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Moonshine
Amidst the hills clandestine stills
are still producing liquid gold.
Utilising ancient skills
passed down from forebears; known of old.
Forded from their homelands unjustly
deprived of all they had by laws
Enforced by English kings decree
The clansmen had no other course.
But emigrate and seek freedom
in distant lands across the sea
Where they hoped to find a welcome.
It seems they did and readily
Resumed the way of life they knew
cherished traditions from the past
They proved they were willing to
adapt to change as the years passed
Becoming model citizens.
Accepting their new ome lands laws.
Retaining some independence
as any Scotsman would of course.
Inherited ability
ensured they’re were able to.
Distil their own kind of whisky.
Something that they will always do.
Though law abiding generally.
They’re adamant the will not pay
the government any duty
on what they make it’s not their way
Rebellion is in their blood
inherited genetically.
They would not change it if they could
They won’t surrender easily
And that is why we hide our stills
in places that are known only to us.
An ongoing battle of wills
between the government and us.
11-Jan-09
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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File Clerks Lament.
File clerk’s lament.
I dreamt a dream of pure delight.
Then woke up to reality
I know it was a fantasy.
It satisfied my appetite
for beauty which I rarely see.
Confined to grimy city streets.
My restless spirit was quite free
to travel where it wants to be.
My mind is capable of feats.
Which are denied to my body.
I visit worlds where none compete
and all are treated equally.
Unlike this weary world of woe
that’s all I am allowed to know.
Saturday,21 August 2010
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Freethinker for J.T.Ellison
Freethinker
I do believe that memory can be passed down genetically
Encoded in our D.N.A Although I know the experts say
My theory’s unsustainable, there is no proof obtainable.
For all their professed expertise. My theory causes them unease.
They are afraid I might be right. It could explain why men take fright.
When darkness falls and they can’t see, arousing repressed memories
Of long ago when men were prey which linger to the present day
Although the experts can’t explain the workings of the human brain.
The experts say it can’t be so: They know less than they think they know.
I don’t accept the experts view I see no reason I should do
I still believe that memory can be passed down genetically.
Encoded in our D.N.A. No matter what the experts say.
They cannot force me to agree for I think independently
31/05/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Your Place
I awaken-- in the soft darkness.
Alone-- but yet not lonely,
Your place --beside me in our bed
Is filled-- with memories of you
Only-- you of all women could
With--your constancy leave such sweet
Memories-- that comfort me still.
13-Dec-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Wishful Thinking.
.
The old year’s coming to its end.
Few will be sad to see it go.
We greet the New Year as a friend
We live in hope but cannot know.
If the New Year will prove to be.
A year in which we can achieve.
Our cherished dreams successfully.
Though some have doubts most can believe.
Despite their past experience
of disappointments they have known
They set aside their common sense
and are sustained by faith alone.
It seems we all prefer to see.
The New Year optimistically.
Saturday,26 December 2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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To The Land
To the land of bribes,
To the land of telephones,
To the land of corruptions,
To the land of trains,
To the land of shops,
To the land of thieves,
To the land of connections,
To the land of drugs,
To the land of trucks,
To the land of cats,
To the land of Banks,
To the land of dogs, To the land of footballers,
To the land of dragons,
To the land of hope,
To the land of ice-cream,
To the land of potatoes,
To the land of chocolates,
To the land of tomatoes,
To the land of apples,
To the land of coffee,
To the land of lights,
To the land of ships,
To the land of birds,
To the land of tigers,
To the land of carpets,
To the land of pillows,
To the land of lions,
TO the land of toys,
To the land of horses,
To the land of beds,
To the land of roses,
To the land of love,
To the land of passion,
To the land of romance;
I never new women do snore until i married one.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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End of day thoughts.
The glory of the sunset fades.
The evening sky surrenders to
a nonstop flow of darkest blue.
Which overwhelms the pastel shades.
The evening stars come on parade.
A panorama we can view.
In hopes of seeing something new.
Although the stars we see displayed.
May well have burnt out long ago.
There is no way that we can know.
Which of the stars we think we see.
That twinkle brightly overhead,
are still alive and which are dead
We never will most probably.
Saturday,27 November 2010
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Some things never change.
I do.
She said and so did I
We wed,
one Saturday in June.
We went
away on honeymoon.
A taste
of paradise for two.
We swore.
Each year we would renew.
The vows
we made when we were wed.
Today
though many years have flown.
We are
on honeymoon again
The kids
grown up and fled the nest.
Nothing
has changed we feel the same.
Our love
grew deeper day by day.
The same
hotel the same bedroom.
We had
reviving memories.
Although
We have raised a family.
We knew
all those years ago.
We would
return to paradise.
A dream
that would come true.
Today.
While watching the sun rise.
She said,
I love you so did I.
It’s true.
We were wiser than we knew.
When we
decided we should wed.
We two.
Were meant to be a pair.
Decreed
by fate: We still care.
The way
we did when we first wed.
She knows
its true and so do I.
Monday,15 March 2010
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Over the Hills for M'lady Ernestine
Over the hills.
Beyond the distant hills there lies.
A wonderland a paradise.
Not often seen by mortal eyes.
Alternative reality
which only dreamers ever see.
Imagination is the key.
That’s needed to unlock the door
and let your restless spirit soar
on high to where it can explore.
Beyond the range of normal sigh
to scenes which guarantee delight
and satisfy your appetite.
For things that may or may not be.
Indulge your taste for fantasy
Imagine what you want to see
Beyond the hills you can pretend
that you have found the rainbows end
You’ll find your day dreams can transcend.
All of the normal boundaries.
You can imagine what you please.
No limit to your fantasies.
Nobody can dispute the view
which you accept as being true.
Your dreams belong only to you.
Though other folks have different dreams.
Of crystal pools and flowing streams.
Each to their own or so it seems.
Beyond the distant hills there lies
a wonderland a paradise.
That’s only seen by dreamer’s eyes.
Tuesday,10 August 2010.
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Grown men do cry
Old memories which linger still.
Can bring the tear drops to my eyes
Sometimes they take me by surprise
and cause my tears to freely spill.
I’m not afraid to say they do.
There is no reason I should be.
My memories both old and new
are an integral part of me.
Sometimes they’re tears of happiness
and I am smiling through my tears.
Though other tears recall sadness
that I have suffered through the years.
Old memories reminding me
of joy and sorrow equally.
Monday,09 November 2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Hope overcomes experience.
I understand that love can die.
Without a cause apparently.
There is no point in asking why.
We must accept that agony
replaces erstwhile ecstasy
We used to share so long ago.
So we decide reluctantly
the time has come we must let go.
We can retain fond memories
or do our damndest to forget
though neither can be done with ease.
Because we are not ready yet.
No doubt we’ll fall in love again
undeterred by our past pain.
Thursday,27 May 2010
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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You Long To Go To A Place Near Mountain Streams (Triolet)
You long to go to a place near mountain streams
where we wander around in our memories
or maybe to the Knysna forest you go in your dreams.
You long to go to a place near mountain streams
for which your heart at times screams
where we wander among the trees without worries.
You long to go to a place near mountain streams,
where we wander around in our memories.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Shedding a little light on the past for M 'lady Ernestine
A candle in a paper boat
Placed on the water carefully
Then lit before its set afloat
Recalls a racial memory.
Of funeral pyres in days of old
Of longships burning in the night.
The records that our memories hold.
Transformed by the candle light
on paper boats we set adrift.
It’s just a little game to us
But memories can slowly lift
the veil that’s separating us.
Two worlds existing side by side.
Long may these memories abide.
Tuesday,08 December 2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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The Land of Dreams
Awake awake my little Boy
Thou wast thy Mothers only joy
Why dost thou weep in thy gentle sleep
Awake thy Father does thee keep
O what Land is the Land of Dreams
What are its Mountains and what are its Streams
O Father I saw my Mother there
Among the Lillies by waters fair
Among the Lambs clothed in white
She walkd with her Thomas in sweet delight
I wept for joy like a dove I mourn
O when shall I again return
Dear Child I also by pleasant Streams
Have wanderd all Night in the Land of Dreams
But tho calm and warm the Waters wide
I could not get to the other side
Father O Father what do we here
In this Land of unbelief and fear
The Land of Dreams is better far
Above the light of the Morning Star
poem by William Blake from Songs and Ballads (1794)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Rivalry2010
A clear but broken line of white.
Divides the blue sky from the sea.
A crimson sail comes into sight
and draws the waiting watchers eye.
She knows her man is sailing home.
Where she is waiting patiently.
He knows he’ll get a warm welcome.
She hopes to win him from the sea.
His other love his cold mistress.
With whom she battles constantly.
Although at times she feels helpless.
She won’t surrender easily.
She’s sure she’ll win eventually.
Her love is stronger than the sea.
Saturday,21 August 2010
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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