Tricked and mistreated.
Tricked and mistreated.
I’ve been evicted dispossessed
I was fool did not believe
I really thought that knew best
and had no fear of all souls eve.
To me a jolly holiday
to trick or treat with all my friends.
But sadly I became the prey
of evil spirits who intend.
To seize the opportunity
Usurp a body take its place
assume again humanity
and thus rejoin the human race.
By accident I was alone
with no one near to offer aid
when I was cast out overthrown.
It was the one mistake I made.
To disbelieve was foolishness.
The legends made it very plain.
So now I am left bodiless
although I can still feel the pain.
I’m not the me I used to be
I am not sure just where I am.
Though all around me I can see
foul spirits who don’t give a damn.
For me and my predicament
They are too busy trying to
realise their only intent
of occupying a body too.
I’ve been evicted dispossessed
I know too well the tales are true.
I’ll disappear with all the rest
When the sun comes smiling through.
I’ll have to suffer 'til next year
Between the worlds in limbo lost.
Until all souls eve draws near.
For disbelief I pay the cost.
Then I’ll be hunting with pack
Seeking an opportunity
to try and seize my body back.
To be again who I should be.
I would advise you to believe.
The warning that I offer you
and stay indoors on all souls eve
because the old wives tales are true.
13/10/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Related quotes
You never know.
At the approach of All Souls Eve
I am not sure what to believe
Most see it as a time for fun.
The preparations have begun
The stores are stocking fancy dress.
For little children to impress
and hopefully frighten their friends.
With the very latest trends
Witches, warlocks, vampires and ghouls
And other stealers of men’s souls.
That’s what they will pretend to be.
They’ll trick or treat innocently.
I have a different point of view
I fear the legends may be true.
I lock my doors and stay at home.
When unclean spirits free to roam.
Can wreak revenge on enemies.
At will in any way they please.
Every year folks disappear
And very rarely re appear.
But those that do are not the same.
To me it’s not a children’s game
When folks vanish mysteriously.
I tend to take it seriously.
I will remain behind locked doors
Which seems to me the wisest course.
Until the Sun rises on a new day
I will tell my beads and pray.
You’re free to do what you want to
What I believe may not be true.
You never know who you might meet
When you are playing trick or treat.
Friday,14 October 2011
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Will You? for friend Thad
The singing spring, a sacred well.
Is heard to sing so legends tell.
At midnight when the moon is full.
They say the singing’s wonderful.
So beautiful you are entranced
until the sunrise sets you free.
You basic nature is enhanced.
So you are changed; permanently.
The good become even better.
The wicked ones grow much worse.
These rules are followed to the letter.
Bring changes which you can’t reverse.
I was advised to stay indoors
on evenings when the moon was full
I disregarded this of course.
When you are young you play the fool
I did not believe the tales were true
So I resolved to check it out
a very foolish thing to do
But Now I know I have no doubt.
I was a young and headstrong fool
Although that does not change a thing.
I went there when the moon was full
And heard the singing of the spring.
That’s why I sit here on death row.
I grew to enjoy violence.
I killed a man with just one blow.
Although I pleaded self defence.
The jury found I was guilty.
I know I didn’t mean to kill.
The evidence convicted me.
It seemed to be an act of will.
It seems I can’t escape the fate
The sacred well foresaw for me
I know now when it is too late
I must fulfil the prophecy.
I can’t complain I made the choice
I should listened carefully
But no I had to hear the voice
I went there unbelievingly.
I should have known but I did not
Old legends are based on some truth.
That’s why the legends aren’t forgot.
Except by disbelieving youth.
I must accept the penalty
There is nothing I can do.
One morning they will come for me.
Not pleasant to look forward to.
So heed my words and heed them well.
Do not ignore the legends that you hear
The strange tales that the old wives tell.
Although their meanings are not clear.
It won’t harm you stay indoors
on evenings when the moon is full.
It is by far the wisest course.
It never hurts to be careful.
Although you are a modernist
and can’t believe the tales are true
The ancient legends still persist.
The question is my friend Will you?
10/08/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Seize the day for grandaughter chitra
Seize the day
We rarely know how others feel
Because they are afraid to say
and think it wiser to conceal.
Emotions that they daren’t display.
Although they are attracted to
your looks and personality
The are afraid if the tell you
you may reject them completely.
So seize the opportunity
it may not ever come again.
Speak honestly and openly
you may lose less than what you gain.
Perhaps she feels the same way too.
Unless you speak you’ll never know.
She’s probably as scared as you
to let her inner feeling show.
What fate decrees will come to be.
Despite your lack of confidence.
I can tell you with certainty.
This has been my experience.
Say what you feel what can you lose?
Sometimes you have to take a chance.
A still tongues is of little use
when you are searching for romance,
26/04/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Next time I'll know better for M lady Lucianne
I hear a tapping at my door.
It’s trick and treaters I expect.
I have some candy treats in store
which they will happily accept.
I slip the latch so easily
but it appears there’s no one there
I look and listen carefully.
I find the silence hard to bear.
I close the door return inside
I feel a presence I can’t see.
Although there is no place to hide
I gaze about uneasily.
The tales they tell could they be true.
At Halloween the veils grow thin
and homeless spirits can pass through.
I feel my head begin to spin.
When I come to the sun is bright
but I’m not who I used to be.
Some homeless spirit won the fight
and is pretending to be me.
I’ll have to wait another year
before I am myself again.
A long and lonely wait I fear
before my body I regain.
I only hope that it is true
they must give up their tenancy.
When the next Halloween falls due
I’ll have to wait impatiently.
Beware of answering your door
especially on All Hallows Eve.
Fate may have a surprise in store
for those of you who don’t believe.
That this night spirits come and go
and each one seeking for a place
another chance although they know
they’ll have to wear another’s face.
Far better to pretend your out
on no account answer the door.
You will be safe without a
now you’ve been warned You know the score.
31-Oct-07
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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Halloween, trick or treat.
Come evening we open the door,
And see quaint sights of blood and gore,
We find the streets are strange to walk,
Tales of horror are all the talk,
For one night all love the bizarre,
While the plain leads to a faux pas,
Costume is donned as it gets dark,
As many seize the chance to lark,
There's many frights and smiles to see,
As souls seem inhibition free,
Children en masse take to the street,
Whilst seeking a trick or a treat,
The macabre is put on display,
Pumpkins carved in an artful way,
Sweets are scoffed at a shocking rate,
And children stay up far too late.
poem by Christian Lacdael
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I keep my head for Sdi Mahtrow
I
I am a bard with tales to tell
I know my trade I know it well.
I am made welcome when I call
at any manor house or hall.
I have sweet tales of courtly love
which will the ladies spirits move
and epic tales of battle lore
to entertain the men of war
Plus jests and japes of every kind
All carried in my well stocked mind.
I travel round the countryside
collecting news from far and wide.
I try my very best to be
certain of my accuracy
Although sometimes I stretch the truth
some puissant lord’s anger to soothe.
I pride my self on honesty
although some critics disagree.
All bards at times are forced to lie.
There is a simple reason why.
I would much rather live than die
and when my life’s in jeopardy
I lie as well as any bard
to go on living my reward.
10-Jun-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Polysyllabic Complexity
Polysyllabic complexity
Polysyllabic words afford me great hilarity
Especially used improperly
By those who seize the opportunity
to demonstrate pretentiously.
Their vast store of vocabulary.
It fills me with malicious glee
to see them comprehensively
confusing similarities
between words so easily
Relinquishing simplicity
in favour of complexity.
Because they’re hoping to impress
us with their cleverness
Instead display their foolishness.
Because of their proclivity
for using words which do not mean
quite what they think they do.
Instead of saying what they mean
precisely and with clarity
.In words that everybody knows
The can’t resist the urge to pose
I’m sure we all know someone who
will use five words where one would do.
I’ll draw this ramble to a close
Or you might think I’m one of those
Who talks the way that posers do
Perhaps you’re right it could be true.
13-Oct-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Nothing is endless
Going by the philosophy,
souls never die
It is just change of body
from one to other guy,
Agreeing the reincarnation
if look the time behind,
Soul changes body of human
question comes in mind;
The earth took birth years back
say many millions,
Where these souls were before
say many billions?
Why we can’t find linkage
if souls take rebirth?
Why many creatures vanished
from the earth?
I feel it is the God and
only God who lives forever,
Who demerges from him
and merges souls of creatures.
S.D. Tiwari
poem by S.D. Tiwari
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What I Think
what i think is what you get
this is all i have
a finger, a thought, a tongue
i can offer you a hand
if you want
if you stay, i can offer you greater
than all these
you may have my body
and if you care for me more than
enough
you can even have my soul
but if you are true more than enough
that you take time
burying me when i die
then i can give you
more than my soul and my body
but you may not like it
so i may ask: won't you take my poetry?
don't laugh, i am a serious writer.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The only Way to go.
Some choose to grow old quietly
but others take a different view.
They chose to live disgracefully.
Why should you give up having fun.
Because you’ve reached a certain age.
There are still things you haven’t done.
You want to do before you die
Though your time may be limited.
You see no reason not to try
To make your madcap dreams come true.
Why should you sit and vegetate
as other folks expect you to.
You are the captain of your fate.
So you can do what you want to.
Tomorrow may be far too late.
So do it now immediately.
Regardless of the consequence.
What does it matter anyway?
Society may not agree.
You have the right to your own view
Choose to act disgracefully.
You’ll find that life is much more fun
than sitting watching the T.V.
Show the world you’re still someone
Seize every opportunity
that life’s prepared to offer you.
To shock your neighbours thoroughly.
They choose to sit and wait to die.
You choose to do the opposite.
You won’t surrender easily/
But fight until your final breath
because it is your nature to
Although you know you can’t beat death.
You know that one day you must die
but until then you choose to live
Just as you wish disgracefully.
01/09/09
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Her Own Choice
She could no longer cope alone.
Knew all too well that it was true
and there was something else she knew.
Her race was run, time to move on.
She did not wish to vegetate
in some well run establishment
Where lunch became the main event.
With no attempt to stimulate.
The workings of an agile mind,
trapped inside a useless shell.
A body which had served her well.
Before her health was undermined,
by ailments which progressively
destroyed all of her abilities.
The time had come to quit the game.
So she decided she would die
in her own bed in her own home
To be pain free would be welcome.
So she died voluntarily.
The cause of death no mystery.
She chose to exercise her right,
While she had the will to write
the finish to her life story.
22/04/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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An Exhortation to Gentleness
You who are strong, and do not know the need
That weaker spirits feel, but do not plead -
The need to lean on someone who is strong -
Oh! see you give their silent want good heed.
Be not so busy with your own career,
However noble, that you cannot hear
The sighs of those who look to you for help,
For this is purchasing success too dear.
Many strong men and good, I see, so bent
Upon their own souls' high development
That they have only scorn or tolerance
To give to those who are not thus intent.
Yet, who can answer that it is not true
That those weak souls who spare, where blame is due,
And smile, because too gentle to be stern,
Are not more needed in the world than you?
poem by Alice Duer Miller
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From one Soul of the Universe are all Souls derived... Of these Souls there are many changes, some into a more fortunate estate, and some quite contrary... Not all human souls but only the pious ones are divine. Once separated from the body, and after the struggle to acquire piety, which consists in knowing God and injuring none, such a soul becomes all intelligence. The impious soul, however, punishes itself by seeking a human body to enter into, for no other body can receive a human soul it cannot enter the body of an animal devoid of reason. Divine law preserves the human soul from such infamy... The soul passeth from form to form and the mansions of her pilgrimage are manifold. Thou puttest off thy bodies as raiment and as vesture dost thou fold them up. Thou art from old, O Soul of Man yea, thou art from everlasting.
quote by Hermes Trismegistus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Legendary profitabilty.
A quiet space a secret place.
A rocky cave in the cliff face.
Which somehow makes you feel welcome.
A hermit once made this his home.
A healer and an herbalist.
The legends say he did exist.
It’s said he never charged a fee
But gave his services for free.
To the poorest folks of his day.
But those who were rich enough to pay
Had to pay accordingly
For medicine the poor got free.
He was regarded with respect.
Exactly as you would expect.
His treatments worked effectively.
Because he knew the properties.
Of every herb both root and leaf.
And which to use to bring relief.
From common ailments of the day
His nostrums drove the pain away.
Although his fame spread far and wide.
He was determined to abide.
In the haven he had chosen
Far apart from other men.
As a hermit ought to do
And to his principles be true.
None knows his true identity
Lost in the mists of history.
The cave can still be seen today
And tourists come from far away.
Perhaps from curiosity
although there’s not a lot to see.
The tourists are prepared to spend.
That’s why the local all pretend.
That they believe the legends true
Because it suits their pockets to.
Sell souvenirs to visitors
at an inflated price of course.
You might well think I’m cynical
The locals are quite typical.
If there’s a profit to be made
Encouraging the tourist trade.
You can be sure they will supply
whatever tourists want to buy.
The legends may or may not be
Well rooted in reality.
What does it matter anyway
As long as it can be made to pay.
Thursday,02 February 2012
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Singular Duality for M lay Catrina
The moon against the blue black night
A symbol of serenity
Bathes the world with silver light
a touch of surreality.
Far different to the world by day
which has no time for fantasy
The boring hum drum everyday
view of the world that most folks see.
The moonlight stimulates our dreams.
The interplay of light and shade
where nothing is quite as it seems.
The stuff of which all dreams are made.
The silver moon light can create
a moving tapestry of dreams
Produce in us a trance like state
and blend together without seams
reality and fantasy
Two worlds existing side by side
the moon somehow mysteriously
their difference can override.
I seize each opportunity
to see the shadows as they dance.
The moonlit night providing me
the time and place and circumstance.
26/04/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Spin Doctors for friend alex
In days of yore long, long before
the spoken word took written form.
The Bards, the guardians of the lore.
In Great Men’s halls they would perform.
Their epic tales from history
to entertain the listening host.
With tales of war and mystery
and heroes which their race could boast.
Each teller added something to,
adjusted what they had been told.
By teachers who had altered too
the ancient tales they had retold.
Each myth and legend seems to be
a twisted version of some tale.
Which was quite true originally
Our search for truth is doomed to fail.
There’s little evidence to find.
Although we can extrapolate
from different versions left behind.
These fragments we appreciate.
Contain some truth enwrapt in lies,
Driven by curiosity
embark upon an enterprise,
The ultimate futility.
Though we can guess, we cannot know.
Our theories could be correct
Events which happened long ago
change with each telling I suspect.
03/06/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Prophecy for M lady Lucianne
The moon is blue to suit my mood. I’m missing you I knew I would.
My love for you is deep and true but there is little I can do.
I cannot make you want to stay. So I will send you on your way.
I’ll paste a smile upon my face and hope that it will stay in place
until you disappear from view. You have a dream you must pursue.
Whilst I must wait and hope and pray, you will return to me one day.
Perhaps in time you’ll come to know there was no need for you to go.
When you have slaked your wanderlust and found nobody you can trust.
Maybe your thoughts will turn to me; I’ll still be waiting patiently.
I am quite certain you will come back to where you’re always welcome.
By then my love you’re sure to know. I loved enough to let you go.
What had the world to offer you? No one could love you like I do
Now you are home you will remain I will not let you go again.
You had your dream and I had mine. Your dream is dead you must share mine.
Together we’ll find happiness I know we will it’s not a guess.
27-Jan-09
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Threepenny Bits
Our little dog is very old.
She’s rather deaf and almost blind
and if the honest truth were told
You might think my words unkind.
She often has an accident
The reason isn’t hard to find,
she’s senile and incontinent
She has but one thought in her mind
She hasn’t lost her appetite
The only pleasure left to her
she hunts by scent and not by sight
for any food that’s on offer.
We never know where we will find
some souvenir she’s left behind.
13-Nov-08
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Our little Yorkshire Terrier Threepence is fourteen years old
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Why do you hesitate.
He had one eye, one arm, one leg
a landmine had removed the rest
he does not whinge or whine or beg.
His attitude is best expressed.
I’m still a man and I can do
almost as much as any guy.
A little slower that is true
but I can see no reason why.
You feel you have to pity me
I would much rather earn respect
Though not the man I used to be
I can do more than you expect.
Give me chance and I’ll show you
I still have skills which I can use
to do as well as others do.
Why hesitate what can you lose?
I draw the pension I am due
but need to boost my self esteem.
Prove to the world that I can do
much more than sit at home and dream.
Give me the opportunity
to demonstrate what I can do.
Ignore my disability
if I can do it so can you.
Just set your prejudice aside
and treat me as a normal guy
Give me a chance and then decide
to keep me on or say goodbye..
Why do employers constantly
turn down disabled veterans.
Are they so blind they cannot see
that veterans deserve a chance.
25-Apr-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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