En.Citatepedia^®.ro

The Autocrat for J.T.Ellison

History tells us Henry Tudor
was a kind man but much cruder.
Than any head of state to day.
He was the king and had his way.
He frequented the public stews
though people then held different views
Though Henry Tudor didn’t care
Nobody was brave enough to dare
to tell the king what he should do.
Athough there must have been a few
Who thought it inappropriate
behaviour for a head of state.
So what they thought was left unsaid
for critics often wound up dead.

03/11/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Public Servant

Public servant

I have no choice it must be done
before my only chance is gone.
I have him clearly in my sights
and I am well within my rights.

He is armed, prepared to kill.
I have no doubt at all he will.
He is a threat to everyone.
I have no choice it must be done.

Although I would rather not
I must squeeze off the fatal shot.
I chose to shoot him through the head
make certain sure that he is dead.

Before he can shoot anyone
The choice is mine and mine alone.
I kill the man reluctantly
but that is how it has to be

I swore to serve and to protect.
The public and they all expect.
Me to carry out my duty
As best I can efficiently.

The man is dead the threat is gone
And normal life can carry on.
Nobody spares a thought for me
They do not care apparently.

05/04/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Irrelevant

The history we learn at school.
Is mostly untrue as a rule.
A rather biased point of view.
Recorded by the victors who,
in an attempt to justify
their actions are prepared to lie.
The losers cannot air their views
and so we have no chance to choose.
Which version is more accurate.
Which gives me confidence to state.
The rubbish taught as history,
should not be taken seriously
Not only probably untrue
it is distinctly boring too.

26-Oct-08

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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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In two minds

John William Henry Barthrop wrote.
In iambic pentameter
an amusing suicide note
Stuck it on the water heater.
Which he turned on but left unlit.
Although his intent was to die.
He put no thought in planning it.
It was in fact a hopeless try.
The fool forgot to feed the meter
and very soon the gas ran out.
Fate decides, you cannot cheat her.
So he survives only to doubt
if in fact he really meant it.
He’s still alive though discontented.

05/11/2009

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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Room for improvement for Leslie

Critics express their point of view.
As they have every right to do
I will give credit where it’s due.
So I consider each review
as of potential benefit
Though I may not agree with it.
It may well be I can profit
by reading what my critics writ.
I treat all critiques just the same
accepting praise accepting blame.
All part and parcel of the game.
Improvement is my only aim.
So please feel free to state your view
You might well teach me something new.

13-Feb-09
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Mount Edgcumbe

Here the descendants of Bosworth Field
built their Eden from forest, bracken, heath;
bred partridge, pheasant, boar and deer,
then cast their shadow of darkening fear,
stretched out their hands
and filled their woods with death.

Built Tudor house and Tudor fort,
enclosed the land with Tudor thought.

Four hundred years from that to this
carefully constructed wilderness.
No man-traps now to stumble on,
the deer remain, the boars are long since gone.

The Tudor rides are proletarian walks
where we can wander where the next road forks,
through oak and elm and beech and ash,
through hyacinths and primulas,
daffodils and camellias.

Down to where Lady Emma’s Cottage
slumbers in quiet decay.
But as for Lady Emma,
she has “left and gone away”.

poem by Brian Taylor
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I refuse to be a clone.

From birth to death it seems to me.
That we are never truly free.
To be what we would like to be.
We are expected to conform
to what’s accepted as the norm.
Dictated by society.

WE go to school where we are taught.
To memorise the things we ought.
But no one spares a single thought.
About what we would like to be.
They do not care apparently.
We can’t escape too firmly caught.

Though some of us a very few.
Rebel and we refuse to do
What the system wants us to.
But most accept the status quo.
Because they aren’t allowed to know.
That they are entitled to pursue.

Their cherished dreams in their own way
and no one has the right to say.
That they cannot but they will pay.
The price for their rebellion
against the states opinion.
But some. still do it anyway.

I’m happy to defy the state
and take control of my own fate.
Because I don’t appreciate
being told I must obey
When I can see a better way
than that dictated by the state.

Sunday,09 January 2011
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Wasted Effort

Who steals my purse steals only trash.
My credit cards are all maxed out
I have no job I have no cash
so sadly he must do without.
The goodies that he hoped to buy
at my expense or so he thought.
The fix he needed to get high.
All of his effort gone for naught
The truth is I’m completely broke.
No job, no home, no family.
I hope that he can see the joke
that fate has played on him and me.
He thought to gain but he did not.
What have I lost—not a lot

14/08/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Tolerance.

If you ask me politely
Invariably I will comply
But if you try to compel me
then your demand I will deny.
As I have every right to do
You have your views and I have mine
and they are most unlikely to be
close enough so they combine.
Into a view we both agree
I’m tolerant and you are not
You see my views as heresy.
Which does nor really help a lot.
Some see your views as bigotry
and who am I to disagree.

Wednesday,13 January 2010
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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I have become a pragmatist for friend Leslie

I have become a pragmatist

I’ve been betrayed by so called friends
and people who I thought I knew.
With no attempt to make amends.
I sometimes wonder if it’s true.
Was I myself in part to blame
for trusting far too readily
that’s not the way to win life’s game.
Now that it’s too late I see
I acted rather foolishly.
I should have been more sceptical
and checked them out more thoroughly
at risk of seeming cynical.
I am no longer so naïve
I’ve learnt my lesson I believe.

16/08/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Circuit Judge?

Circuit Judge?

I am detached, dispassionate.
My judgements purely logic based.
I think I can proudly state
all chance of error is erased.

Emotions do not affect me.
My circuits are all solid state
Designed for functionality.
I do not love I cannot hate.

It is a pointless exercise
attempting to influence me
I disregard the lawyers lies
I rule them out immediately.

I consider all the evidence
As I was designed to do
which points to guilt or innocence.
I can detect what isn’t true.

I have no human loyalties.
My logic circuits cannot fail
I judge the facts impartially
You can be sure truth will prevail.

I am detached impassionate
You may be very sure of that
My only role to serve the state
I am the perfect bureaucrat.

18/08/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Personal Preference

Prudence acted prudently.
She valued her virginity,
Unlike her fellow student Pearl
who chose to be a party girl.

Prudence was prepared to wait
until she changed her single state
She much preferred matrimony
Although her friend did not agree.

Pearl was convinced life should be fun
Had no regrets for what she’d done
In fact believed her way of life
would make her a much better wife.

When she was ready to get wed.
At least when asked that’s what she said.
Which one was right I do not know
that’s something only time will show.

Prudence chose to remain chaste.
Pearl thought celibacy a waste.
Both could be right quite possibly
What right have I to disagree.

12/07/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Dare you come with me?

Do you dare go one step beyond?
the limits of your comfort zone?
Rely upon yourself alone
and take the road to Trebizond.

A city where the minarets
are peopled by resentful ghosts
Who vainly shout their empty boasts
And voice aloud their dire threats.

Brag of past depravity.
For which the suffer punishment.
They weep and wail their discontent.
Condemned for all eternity.

Are you brave enough to face
All of the dangers you might find
enough to break the strongest mind.
In that long lost and fearsome place.

A city which was once designed
to be a place a place of peace and rest.
Hypotheses could be refined,
and theories put to the test.

Fate was to prove the wise men fools.
As she has often done before
Fomented into civil war.
The views of the opposing schools

The learned men were powerless
they could not stem the violence
Though they foresaw the consequence
As followers sought to impress.

The views which they held to be true.
On other men who disagreed
Defending their own narrow creed.
As bigots always tend to do.

The learned men were first to die
They weren’t as wise as they had thought
they had no time to wonder why.
They perished in the first onslaught.

Their wailing ghosts will argue still
that they were right the others wrong.
I have no doubt they always will
that’s why they stay where they belong.

Confined to haunted minarets
in a city men have forgot.
They still owe payments on their debts.
You may be fearful I am not.

I dare to take that step beyond
the confines of my comfort zone
and travel on to Trebizond
Though usually I go alone.

06/05/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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I'm still a man for M 'lady Milica

I’m still a man though I grow old
I am no longer brave and bold.
I think before I chose to act.
I have to face up to the fact.
I have to do as I am told.
I’m still a man

The aches and pains that trouble me
all tend to sap my energy.
I cannot do what I used to
That’s matterless for in my view
I’m still a man,

Short Rondel format

15/10/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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She was much wiser than he knew.

He asked her for her heart and hand.
Which she agreed to readily.
He thought she did not understand.
His motives were mercenary.

She joined the aristocracy
became a Countess over night.
Which recued him from penury.
He thought that she was not too bright.

But soon discovered his mistake.
For trust funds still controlled her wealth.
There was no way that he could take
advantage of her using stealth.

She was much wiser than he thought
and kept control of the purse strings.
She gained the title that she sought.
She disbelieved his sweet nothings.

She had agreed to clear his debts
and this she was prepared to do.
Without the slightest of regrets.
Because she was entitled to

use her new title of Countess.
Which opened many doors for her.
But as for him he gained far less
than he had really bargained for.

Though not harassed by creditors
He finds his freedom is curtailed.
Like many would be predators.
He lost much more than what he gained.

There is a moral to this tale
When predators go head to head.
The weakest one is bound to fail
So do take head of what I’ve said.

Monday,17 May 2010 http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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King Richard The Third

(1452—1485)

He was the last king of the House of York and last of the
Plantagenet dynasty. His deafeat at the battle of Bosworth
Field was the decisive battle of the War of the Roses.When
his brother Edward IV died in 1483, Richard was named Lord
Protector of the realm for Edward's son and successor, the
12-year-old King Edward V.The young king and his brother
were murdered in the Tower of London, on the orders of
Richard.

Shakespeare falsified Richard's memory
Appeasing his Tudor monarch's royal line
Claiming him unfit to be king, a bloody tyrant
With crown stolen on bloody Bosworth Field.

Richard was not born before his time
Hunchback, withered hand, dragging foot
But was of pleasing appearance, tall, strong
No withered hand, hunchback nor deformed limb.

He was a goodly king for his own dark times
Reigning two years, a brave warrior of the rose
Brother of a king, uncle to two young princes
Murdered, smothered in the Tower of London.

Betrayed by Baron Stanley on Bosworth Field
The turncoat traitor for the Tudor cause
Leading his Welsh army bringing King Richard down
Butchered, and buried naked in a farmer's dung heap.

poem by Colin Ian Jeffery
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I would if I could

Philosophers considering
the mysteries if the universe.
May seem to be woolgathering
or dozing off which would be worse.

But they are not: They’re deep in thought
Oblivious to reality
They contemplations of a sort
which is akin to fantasy.

Their thoughts are on a higher plane
I don’t pretend to understand.
Although they try they can’t explain.
So they dismiss me out of hand.

At least I work to earn my pay
I cannot sit and think all day.

13/05/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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You are Mistaken! !

The arguments range far and wide.
Opinions held stubbornly
will be adhered to by each side
Because we do not want to see.

That we may be wrong possibly.
Brain washed by what we have been taught.
By teachers who most probably
had not expended too much thought.

Passed on the tenets of their creed
for which they had no evidence.
They merely listened and agreed
which shows a lack of competence.

A teacher should be confident
that what he teaches is the truth.
Mere words are insufficient
when you are educating youth.

Challenge all you have been taught.
Although in fact it may be true
Do not accept without much thought.
The currently prevailing view.

Each creed will claim they are correct.
It ‘s human nature so to do
This will not change. I don’t expect
We’ll ever know which one is true.

12/07/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Eureka! Todays Idiocy.

He stands alone, he has B.O
He has no friends to let him know.
He is supremely ignorant
that he needs a deodorant.

He does not wish to be alone.
But sadly he has never known.
The fact that he smells so bad
If he was told he would be glad.

To take a bath. use aftershave
in short become a willing slave.
But no one dare get close enough
to tell him all about such stuff.

He stands alone he has B.O.
how very sad he does not know

.26/10/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Inexplicable.

The night was cold but still and clear.
As I patrolled the riverside.
I felt a sudden twinge of fear.
Quite suddenly I was terrified.

It was a strange experience.
I saw no reason for my fear.
It went against my common sense
When I thought I saw appear.

Two figure from the distant past.
A sailor and his light of love.
Fear for the moment held me fast.
Although I tried I could not move.

The sailor struck her on the head
with some heavy implement.
To make quite sure that she was dead.
Another blow more violent.

Then he made off and left her there.
He had done what he intended to.
Whilst I was forced to stand and stare.
There was nothing I could do,

When I could move I went to where.
I had seen her body fall
Her battered body was not there.
There was no blood no sign at all.

When I regained my self control.
Of course I double checked the scene.
Then carried on with my patrol.
Convinced myself that I had been.

Confused by some trick of the light.
It's possible I might have been.
But I won't forget that night
nor what I thought that I had seen.

The memory still bothered me.
When I retired I found the time.
To study local history.
I found a record of the crime.

A woman's body had been found
Beside the waters of the Tyne.
Just left abandoned on the ground
She died in eighteen twenty nine.

Was I transported back in time?
On that cold evening long ago
.Was I a witness to that foul crime?
I cannot say I do not know.

Though I remember vividly.
The murder scene I thought I saw.
A trick of light most probably.
Though I shall wonder evermore.

Tuesday,07 February 2012
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Each to his Own for Friend Bob Blackwell

I dance before the Lord, My God.
Though other people find this odd.
They are entitled to their view.
I worship as I was taught to do.
The Christians sing hymns of praise
but mainly on their holy days
And Muslims pray six times a day
they worship God in their own way.
As for the Jews they have their views
a lengthy list of don’ts and dos.
Why can’t we learn to tolerate
each others views. Appreciate
there is one God omnipotent.
who understands each mans intent.

20-Aug-08

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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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