The call we can't ignore for Friend Stephen
When I was young so long ago
an inside toilet was to me
epitome of luxury.
We had no choice we had to go.
To the outside lavatory
trudge down the yard through rain and snow
We suffered untold misery.
I can recall it vividly.
A stump of candle for a light.
Squares of newspaper on a string
It was no haven of delight
and all the while the draught whistling.
It used to be an earth closet
but we had progressed to a loo
Most usually the floor was wet
a home made duck board had to do
Today I sit upon the throne
in my bathroom warm and dry
and ponder on the loos I’ve known
I know I am a lucky guy.
From footprint loos in the east
to ultra modern super loos
It doesn’t matter in the least.
We have to go we can’t refuse.
I sit content and contemplate.
The softly quilted toilet roll
and all the latest up to date
systems with which I can control
The heat and the humidity
and spray sweet perfumes in the air.
Such decadence and luxury.
I do not find too hard to bear.
07/07/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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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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A Sobering Tale.
Sometimes he sits, sometimes he thinks.
At other times combines the two
More frequently he sits and drinks.
Because he cannot bear the view.
The only view that he can see
through pain filled eyes awash with tears.
He can remember vividly.
The promise of his early years.
When he was young and full of hope.
He had the whole world by the tail
But later found he could not cope,
although he tried to no avail.
Discovering that a drink or two
helped to alleviate the stress
A sorry story nothing new
His life became a complete mess.
He lost his job it had to come.
His drinking led to a divorce.
His wife then claimed the family home.
His life sped on it’s downwards course.
A friend became his enemy
because he let it take control.
It took him over completely.
Dependent now on alcohol.
No longer does he drink from choice
That luxury is now denied.
He drinks to still the nagging voice
which urges him to suicide.
Today he’s just a drunken bum
with nothing to look forward to.
Bar cheap red wine to make him numb
albeit temporarily.
Sometimes he sits, sometimes he thinks
sometimes he can combine the two.
More often though he sits and drinks
There’s nothing he would rather do.
10/10/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Such luxury is not for me. for friend Thad
A marble floor that’s silken smooth
and walls of carven cedar wood.
What does such ostentation prove?
I do not know but feel I should.
Such luxury is not for me
I am contented with my lot.
I make no effort to impress
I have sufficient for my needs.
It matters not that I have less
than those who feel they must succeed
Such luxury is not for me.
I am contented with my lot
I see no reason to display
I much prefer my privacy.
I live my life in my own way
Accepting life’s reality
Such luxury is not for me.
I am contented with my lot
Though I indulge in fantasy
from time to time like everyone
I know it’s not reality
only a dream that’s quickly gone.
Such luxury is not for me.
I am contented with my lot.
I earn my living honestly
although I’m just an artisan
Better to live quietly
as befits a simple man.
Such luxury is not for me.
I am contented with my lot
A marble floor that’s silken smooth
and walls of carven cedar wood.
What does such ostentation prove?
Something I’ve never understood.
Such luxury is not for me.
I am contented with my lot.
Tuesday,10 November 2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Bloody Luxury
(coverdale)
Now when I first met you
I was rolling along,
Just a bar room crooner
Singing heartbreak songs,
An I supposed I could never get next to you
But, you seemed quite happy with my company
You kept my body heat steady at 103,
With your mouth full of gimme
An your body full of much obliged
Its bloody luxury
What you mean to me,
Bloody luxury
What you do to me
Its bloody luxury
What you mean to me,
cos no matter what you do to me
Its bloody luxury
Bloody luxury...
Youre a five star woman,
An you know what to give
To fill a part time loser
Full of reasons to live,
But, theres no doubt about it
Im taking a chance on you
Becos you get my heart beating heavy,
Make my knees go weak
You get me so damn nervous
I can hardly speak,
But, nothings gonna stop me
Hanging on my good luck charm
Its bloody luxury
What you mean to me,
Bloody luxury
What you do to me
Its bloody luxury
What you mean to me,
cos no matter what you do to me
Its bloody luxury
Bloody luxury...
Its bloody luxury
What you mean to me,
Bloody luxury
Honey what you do to me
Its bloody luxury
What you mean to me,
cos no matter what you do to me
Its bloody luxury
Bloody luxury
What you mean to me,
Bloody luxury
Honey what you do to me
Its bloody luxury
What you mean to me,
cos no matter what you do to me,
No matter what you do to me,
No matter what you do to me,
Its bloody luxury
Bloody luxury
Bloody luxury...
song performed by by Whitesnake
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dog watch
The night is cold and clear and still.
The village streets lie quietly.
A bitter wind adds to the chill.
At home is where I’d rather be.
I have no choice I have to go.
My dog insists I take him out.
He knows he is entitled to
his final evening run about.
Then he will settle for the night.
It matter not rain, hail or snow.
He is correct he has the right
to tell me that its time to go.
He knows the time I must suppose.
What puzzles me is how he knows.
Wednesday,23 December 2009.
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Peccavi for friend Bob
A sword suspended by a thread, precariously above my head
A sin committed long ago I did not want the world to know.
My conscience nagged incessantly I dreaded the discovery
of what I had done as a child. Sufficient cause to be reviled.
By anyone who came to know the secrets that I hid below
my air of seeming innocence. How I’ve regretted my offence.
What I had done nobody knew nor were they ever likely to.
I did not wish to cause alarm nor did I wish the slightest harm.
To anyone I was a fool to think it would be rather cool.
To super glue the ladies loo which left a lady sticking to
The toilet seat to her distress. I was too frightened to confess.
I realised eventually that only I could forgive me
I still regret my foolishness. A childish prank no more no less.
The time has come for my reprieve I am forgiven I believe
My punishment draws to its close.Although in fact still no one knows.
Who superglued the ladys loo.There is no way that they could do.
I have repented of my sin but secretly suppress a grin.
When I recall the memory which all my life has haunted me
26/04/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Power Failure
Tonight I write by candle light
I am forced to by circumstance
Although the light is not too bright
I find that it gives me a chance.
To compare my life style today
with what I recall from my youth.
Reluctantly I have to say
If I should tell the honest truth
The simple life of yesteryear
may be a pleasant memory.
I much prefer my life today.
I need a brighter light to see
Advancing years have dimmed my sight
I dote upon electric light.
21-Nov-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Top Taps
At the Royal Festival Hall, on the third floor,
There is an experience which I just adore.
Every time that I visit there, I always choose
To wash my hands under the taps in their loos.
Out of the tap, the water suddenly gushes;
On to my waiting hands, hot water rushes.
Into the basin, water froths and foams:
I really wish we had these taps at home.
Round my wrists, the white water swirls
Like a precious bracelet, made of pearl.
Bubbles coat my hands, just like a glove:
It is a sensation which I simply love.
By the bubbles, my hands are massaged.
Luckily, for these loos, there isn't a charge.
With these taps, I am a little obsessed.
These are the taps which I love the best!
poem by Angela Wybrow
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Either Or just for a laugh
Either Or
Though constipation is a curse,
Diarrhoea is much worse.
I alternate between the two.
There’s very little I can do
Because I suffer I.B.S.
Which is a nuisance I confess.
Retention and distention bloats
a condition which denotes.
The former is full control
though other people find it droll.
I cannot make a joke of it
Its not enjoyable one bit.
It is the diarrhoea I fear.
Because it tends to interfere.
With anything I try to do
I have to swiftly find a loo.
Or otherwise disgrace myself.
I think that’s why I’m on the shelf.
I search in vain to find a cure
The only thing of which I’m sure.
Until I do I’ll be alone
and occupy my favourite throne.
Such is the curse of I.B.S.
I can’t afford to be careless.
No decent girl would want to be
Placed second to the lavatory.
But I can’t help it I’m afraid
it seems to be the way I’m made.
I’m all bunged up or far too loose.
There is no way that I can choose.
Constipation, diarrhoea
I wish they both would disappear
So I could lead a normal life
instead of this internal strife.
I either have to sit and strain
Or find the nearest loo again.
This malady drives me insane
I’m sick of trying to explain
To other folks the reason why
I disappear so suddenly.
I have no choice I have to go
for fear that I will overflow.
Which makes my life a misery.
I’m forced to act unsociably.
I cant make friends as others do.
My life revolves around the loo
Unless you too have I.B.S
and suffer from the same distress.
There is no way you’ll understand
Knowledge acquired second hand,
might activate your sympathy.
Which doesn’t do a lot for me.
So I must suffer silently
I don’t care what you think of me.
You cannot know what I go through
when there’s a queue outside the loo.
And I am forced to concentrate
every minute that I wait.
Until a cubicle is free
and dropp my trousers hurriedly.
And do that which I need to do
I can relax when I am through.
If only temporarily.
Until they find a cure for me.
07/11/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Dipping Low
I went around the world till I found the right spot.
It was ultra sweet and just a little bit hot.
Dippin' low in the lap of luxury.
Dippin' low in the lap of luxury.
Now if you get down there you'll be doin' it right.
Yeah, once you got it you better hold on tight.
Dippin' low in the lap of luxury.
Dippin' low in the lap of luxury.
Now if you wanna break down I'll hold my head up high.
I'm a good mechanic, I'll go over you in style.
Dippin low in the lap of luxury.
Dippin low in the lap of luxury.
song performed by by ZZ Top
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Future Imperfect for friend Ben
The world today is in a dreadful mess.
No one accepts responsibility.
It seems that truth and honour matter less
than expedience apparently.
The only thing we value is success
although it’s been achieved dishonestly
The values which our forbears knew are lost
and everyone of us will bear the cost.
Ottavo Rima
23/08/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Marry in haste, repent at leisure.
Begone wan ghost what wantest thou.
Why dost thou haunt me constantly
I owe no duty now to thee
I did whilst thou didst live but now
There is no law that doth allow
a long dead wife to harass me.
When kindly death hath set me free.
I suffered thy tongue long enow.
Thou wert a shrew with bitter tongue.
Thou didst not hesitate to use
to make my life a misery.
The choice I made when I was young
led to a lifetime of abuse.
God knows I am well rid of thee.
Sunday,07 February 2010.
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Gramercy
Why should I live in agony?
my life a total misery.
Because you find you can’t agree.
to help me die with dignity.
Who gave you the right to choose?
whether to allow or to refuse.
To end a life of little use
I think it is gross abuse.
of your assumed authority.
To decide what is best for me,
you will not listen to my plea.
I choose death voluntarily.
I am no use to anyone.
I’m well aware my race is run
and I am anxious to be gone.
The choice is mine and mine alone.
And therefore should be left to me
But in your wisdom you decide.
I must live on in agony
You won’t assist my suicide.
01/05/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Time to be,
Steal away quietly meditate
You can spare time enough. For a while
silently hide away. Contemplate
who you are, what you are thoroughly.
You may find peace of mind, leave behind
the pressures and distress easily.
All you need to succeed is concede.
You can fly if you try earnestly.
You will see, you can be really free.
12/07/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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It makes no sense.
A dog goes mad and is destroyed
A danger to society.
Why do we strive to avoid
the use of the death penalty.
Why do we pay to keep alive
a madman that we cannot cure.
It seems unjust he should survive
His victims didn’t that’s for sure
There is no cure for his disease
No chance at all he will be freed,
no way that he can earn release
He should be put down humanely
Why should he live in luxury?
with all mod cons provided free.
Saturday,05 December 2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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It might come back into fashion
Why do we hoard things we don’t use?
Why is that we always choose
to take the easy way.
Turn a blind eye.
We will decide another day
what to keep, what to throw away
Although there’s no reason why
we should refuse
We’re well aware what we should try
to clear some space before we buy.
That gorgeous pair of shoes
We should say nay.
We know quite well we should refuse
but bargains we can always use.
Thursday,19 November 2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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It might come back into fashion for all long suffering husbands
Why do we hoard things we don’t use?
Why is that we always choose
to take the easy way.
Turn a blind eye.
We will decide another day
what to keep, what to throw away
Although there’s no reason why
we should refuse
We’re well aware what we should try
to clear some space before we buy.
That gorgeous pair of shoes
We should say nay.
We know quite well we should refuse
but bargains we can always use.
Thursday,19 November 2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Forgotten.
I used to be a household name.
A notable celebrity.
I was a winner in life’s game
Now nobody remembers me.
I lived a life of luxury.
Spent every penny that I earned.
Today I live in poverty.
The tables well and truly turned.
I should have saved but I did not
I thought my fame would never end
I was contented with my lot.
But now I know you can’t depend.
On lady luck a fickle jade.
She builds you up then tears you down.
One day you top the hit parade
The next day you become unknown.
I only have myself to blame
Believed my own publicity
I gloried in my transient fame.
But lady luck deserted me.
I was a fool I must confess
But I chose not to think ahead.
What does it matter more nor less.
Most people think that am dead.
Instead I’m just an old has been
I slipped into obscurity
completely faded from the scene.
Nobody wants to remember me..
23/08/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Companions
The old maid and her tabby cat
Live together happily
in their small ground floor council flat
Where from the window they can see.
Pedestrians who hurry by intent
upon their own affairs
But others walk more soberly
as though weighed down by worldly cares.
They are content to stay at home
and watch the busy world go by
The cat is far too old to roam
her mistress ventures out to buy.
Although she goes reluctantly
the food they need from local stores.
The grocers and the bakery.
The old cat stays at home of course
but welcomes her ecstatically.
The moment that she steps inside
their haven of security.
Safe from the dangers of outside.
They keep each other company
the old maid and her tabby cat.
They are contents as they can be
in their small ground floor council flat.
29-Jul-08
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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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