Transient for M'lady Denise
A rain dropp sparkles in the sun
Refracting light prismatically.
Primary colours every one
collectively and separately
Though in itself quite colourless,
It can convert white light into.
Any colour more or less
A most impressive range of hues.
Sadly the magic cannot last
The raindropp will evaporate.
The present will become the past.
This is not open to debate.
There is no room for argument.
Rain drops are always transient
Tuesday,29 June 2010
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Related quotes
Could this be you?
I
Cannot
understand
intolerance.
I don’t even try.
You have the right to be
bigoted if you so please.
All I can do is pity you.
Who are enslaved by your prejudice.
I much prefer to keep an open mind
Tuesday,13 April 2010
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Changing perceptions for Friend Thad
The sun shines on the frozen snow.
Where ice crystals refract the light
The primal colours come and go.
Add fleeting beauty to the white.
When nightfall brings to end the day.
No pretty colours can be seen.
Just shifting shadows blue and grey.
which make a sad depressing scene
though soon the silver moon will rise.
Her gentle beams chase the shadows.
Revealing only snow and ice
which in the moonlight softly glows.
The beauty shows by day or night
Quite independent of the light.
Saturday,15 May 2010
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Pale Phantoms for M'lady Ernestine
Variant sonnet
Bare branches bear snow blossoms now.
Like forlorn ghosts of summers past.
A vain attempt that cannot last.
To counterfeit the summer show
Of roses that there used to be
in gay profusion blooming there
In gorgeous hues beyond compare.
In the rose garden’s scented air.
Winters attempts at artistry
can create an austere beauty.
Appealing to an artists eye
in black and white simplicity
.Enhancing our ability
to see beauty we can’t deny.
Tuesday,07 December 2010
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Evening routine.
A maple tree is glowing red.
Highlighted by the setting sun
A fiery glow that quickly spread
to tint the clouds now day is done.
When day is done before the night
comes to erase the pastel hues.
Which fill the western skies with light.
I watch and glory at the sight.
I watch until the stars appear
as spots of light against the blue.
It is a ritual, I fear
I have become accustomed to.
Then I will take my homeward way.
A peaceful ending to my day.
Wednesday,27 October 2010
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Posers Pay.
They say the camera never lies.
But you may find to your surprise,
not only that they can but do.
Glamour shots are seldom true.
They have been air brushed probably
to change the image that you see
and alter the reality
to cater to sheer vanity.
If you’re prepared to pay his fee.
I’m sure the snapper will agree
To airbrush out each small defect
Which makes you look less than perfect.
Of course the camera does not lie
it just fulfils your fantasy.
Tuesday,15 June 2010
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There And Back Again For Jt Ellison
The river flows unhurriedly
on its long journey to the sea
Sometimes flows fast and sometimes slow.
It does not matter really though
.
All rivers will eventually
become part of the great salt sea.
From whence they came as clouds and rain
to which they must return again
The sea and Sun co operate.
Evaporate, precipitate
Recycling water constantly.
All rivers flow into the sea.
Where they evaporate and rise
as water vapour to the skies.
The chill will change its state again
from water vapour into rain.
Which falls upon the earth below
to nourish all the plants that grow
Without the rain then there would be
no rivers flowing to the sea.
The world be a desert place
of growing plants no single trace.
A world of grey and brown and dun
Defeated by the burning sun.
Although the rain can be a curse
no rain at all would be much worse.
Accepting philosophically
the rain must fall and frequently.
Though sometimes inconveniently
Without the rain where would be
Extinct I think without a doubt
I much prefer the rain to drought.
Though it may rain on your parade
and spoil the plans which you have made.
You should be thankful for the rain,
you have small reason to complain.
Nature recycles constantly.
water the prime necessity.
If she did not then we would die
Beneath a blue and cloudless sky.
6-Dec-08
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A Poor Attempt
The water mill beside the stream, highlighted by a stray moonbeam.
Which adds an abstract quality, a touch of surreality.
To the scene which I can see and makes it extraordinary
The stream is deep and strong but slow and turns the paddles from below.
The droplets falling from the wheel to any poets eyes appeal
Reflecting light prismatically in rainbow colours flying free.
They join the moon light in a dance of ever changing radiance
Sadly dark clouds obscure the moon; the show is ended all too soon.
My soul is soothed and satisfied, although the dark clouds came to hide
the beauty which I saw displayed.The memories will never fade.
I can recall them vividly and in my minds eye I still see
the wondrous scene I saw tonight. An interplay of dark and light.
I try my best to share with you the beauty that I had in view.
Though I’m afraid I lack the skill despite the fact I have the will.
I am quite sure you’ll understand, I’m just a man I can’t command
the words I write to show to you, the fleeting beauty that I knew..
22-Nov-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Fleeting Impressions.
Fleeting Impressions.
Soft silver moonbeams passing through.
A stained glass window in the night.
Are guaranteed to turn into
An abstract picture to delight.
Those who can appreciate.
A different form of artistry
Which never becomes out of date.
But remains contemporary.
The way the colours merge and blend
The interplay of light and shade
The constant changes will not end.
Until the sun announces a new day
When daylight breaks the moonlight goes
Back where it came from I suppose.
Tuesday,29 November 2011
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Incapability
The sunset’s indescribable
but being me I have to try
to see if I am capable.
Although I see no reason why.
I think this time I might succeed.
I’ve tried so many times before
to explain how the colours bleed
into shades I have no name for.
I would love to share my view
but lack the vocabulary.
I cannot describe to you
the transient beauty that I see.
No matter how hard I may try
it’s an impossibility.
18/05/2009
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Awestruck for M lady Tara
Awestruck
In the distance peals of thunder
as the skies are rent asunder.
Massed ranks of clouds threatening rain
the lightning strikes and strikes again.
Forked spears of light, electric blue
can pierce the storm clouds through and through
The storm clouds offer no defence.
I know from past experience.
The lightning bolts will win again
and force the clouds to release rain
upon the thirsty earth below.
I watch and wait to see the show.
I watch in wonderment and awe
Although I‘ve seen it all before.
07/04/2009
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Freedom. Ivorian sonnet
Because some people disagree
about the rules of poetry.
There’ll always be some argument.
Nobody can define the rules
which leads to widespread discontent.
Some cannot understand it seems,
that every poet has the right.
To choose the way they share their dreams
in any form they choose to write.
I say each poet should be free
to write the way they want to write.
In metered verse with rhyming schemes
or try some new experiment.
No one can dictate how you write.
Wednesday,16 June 2010
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Female characteristic for M 'lady Ernestine
Women’s minds are different
They do not think the way men do.
Present no reasoned argument
they merely state their point of view
They seem to know instinctively
and are invariably correct.
Which grieves me but I must agree
It is what I come to expect.
Intuition is their guide.
A skill that men sadly lack.
We always tend to look outside
for reasons we can carry back.
To justify the things we do
and wonder why our ladies smile.
Men’s foolishness is nothing new.
Why should the ladies change their style.
What men consider logically
before they can make up their minds.
The ladies discount completely.
Their wisdom of a different kind.
They tolerate our foolish pride.
because they are superior.
A fact that men have long denied
It’s not a case of either or.
For women know without a doubt
What is important what is not.
They need no time to work it out.
A talent that no man has got.
Sunday,16 May 2010
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Past and Present.
The truth is written in the rocks.
The Fossil Record does not lie.
Although it’s true it sometimes shocks.
We must accept new rules apply.
The facts we once believed were true
are proven false by further proof
that’s been unearthed. Something new
which takes us closer to the truth.
The truth is what we seek to find.
Try to take an unbiased view.
Attempt to keep an open mind
It’s something that we have to do.
There are still answers to be found
by accident deep underground.
Tuesday,11 May 2010.
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Either or: both can't be true fpr Joe Poewhit
No one canprove that God exists.
No one can prove that God does not
and yet the arguments persists.
I do not know which view is true.
Nobody does apparently.
What you believe is true for you.
What I believe is true for me.
I think the evidence suggests
we should agree to disagree.
Accept the possibility
that either viewpoint could be true.
God could be fact or fantasy.
Why should we argue fruitlessly.
An argument no one can win.
God must remain a mystery,
Tuesday,22 December 2009
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Death is not the end For M'lady Ernestine
Death is not the end.
A ray of sunlight penetrates
the quiet gloom of the sick room
Wherein a dying lady waits.
For death to call impatiently.
She has no fear she is content
To know that soon she will be free.
For ninety years she’s done her best.
To her the sunlight seems to be
A sign that she has passed the test.
The ray of light eventually
illuminates her final smile.
She passes over quietly.
Her empty shell lies peacefully.
Almost as if she slumbered still.
Her spirit soars triumphantly.
Towards the light she hopes to see.
Remaining faithful to the end
She goes ahead confidently.
She has outlived her family
and all her friends are long since dead.
She lived her life successfully.
She lived and died competently
and she passed on with no regrets.
To start a new life hopefully.
Wednesday,30 June 2010
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There ought to be! !
There ought to be! !
I’m paralysed and wheel chairbound.
Although I can still get around.
I cannot just go anywhere
Unless there’s access for my chair.
I am an independent man.
I try to do all that I can.
My home’s adapted to my need
Free access is guaranteed.
But when I face the world outside
I’m very rarely satisfied.
that people truly understand.
How hard it is when you are banned.
From places you would like to see.
There’s no access for folks like me
Tuesday,14 September 2010
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Where do they go? for M'lady Denise
A sky layered in lavender,
old rose and streaks of gold that glow.
Against approaching indigo
as night accepts day’s surrender.
The sun descends into the sea.
His task complete it’s time to rest.
As night achieves a slow conquest.
The colours will fade gradually
Tomorrow morning with the dawn
The pastel colours will return,
The Sun will rise to take his turn.
As in the east new day's born.
Where do the pretty colours go?
when darkness reigns. I do not know.
Saturday,03 July 2010
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Sour Grapes for M lady Tara
Sour grapes
Crysanthemums flamboyantly
display their multicoloured hues.
Each blossom is potentially
a winner though it is hard to choose.
This is the task the judges face
and all three judges must agree.
Which one of them deserves first place.
Decisions made collectively.
At last the winner is declared.
Against which there is no appeal
they have debated and compared.
Without a doubt the judges feel.
That their decision was correct
unlike the losers I suspect.
5-Mar-09
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Heavenly Messenger.
Heavenly messenger.
As morning breaks the still, dark lake
reflects the opalescent light.
The waterbirds begin to wake.
Then somewhere near a lark takes flight.
This tiny bird whose melody
informs the world of a new day.
She rises singing joyously.
The blackbird adds his roundelay.
A pleasure for the ears and eyes
of early rising men who see
the pastel colours of sunrise.
Spread from the east above the sea.
I am content to listen to
her hymn of praise forever new.
Saturday,11 September 2010
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Foiled by beauty for M'lady Sally plumb
A spider web bedecked with dew.
The early morning sun shines through.
Creates a tapestry of light.
A work of art in its own right.
Because the sparkling dew negates.
The spider webs efficiency.
Until the sun evaporates
the morning dew sufficiently
The spider must wait patiently
until at last she breaks her fast
Flies tangled inextricably
in the sticky threads she cast.
The spider builds instinctively.
A trap we aren’t supposed to see.
As long as it is visible
It’s totally impossible.
For the silken trap to do
(It is designed to be unseen)
The task it is intended to.
But for the dew it would have been.
Although it’s pleasing to our eyes
We know it isn’t meant to be
It’s obvious to passing flies
who can avoid it easily.
The hungry spider would prefer
to do without the morning dew.
Which seems intent to deprive her
of fat flies which are her due.
The spider’s loss is our gain
We see the transient beauty.
Which we may never see again.
If only temporarily.
The spider web bedecked with dew
To us a source of great delight
Created each morning anew
by dew drops reflecting sun light.
Although the spider breakfasts late.
There’s little doubt she will survive.
I’m sure she will appreciate
her breakfast when it does arrive.
Tuesday,08 March 2011
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