Unknown Author
I dip my pen in vitriol
to pen the letters which I write.
To highlight sin my only goal
It’s my belief I have the right.
An aging spinster old and bent
I always walked the narrow path
remaining pure and innocent.
Frustration now fuels my wrath.
Behind lace curtains I can see
much more than people think I can.
I keep my watch vigilantly.
I know the movements of each man.
Not only men but women too
as they conduct sordid affairs
and I will write to those who do.
To let them know somebody dares
Inform them that their secrets known.
How they transgress morality
a task I undertake alone.
My quill is sharp and lacks pity.
I scourge the sinners with my pen
because I have no other course.
Perhaps they will not sin again
if I can fill them with remorse.
It is my duty I must try
to wean them from their sinful ways
I know they fear publicity
to be exposed to public gaze.
Such is the power I now wield.
my only tool my trusty pen.
When guilty secrets are revealed,
they fear that I will strike again.
Nothing escapes my eagle eye.
Facts are recorded faithfully.
I have strict rules which I apply
I take my duty seriously.
I lacked the opportunity
I never had the chance to stray.
Perhaps a tinge of jealousy
has made me what I am today.
But Oh the pleasure that I gain
is in some way a recompense
for years of loneliness and pain.
Which I endured with forebearance
I wreak my revenge secretly.
Nobody will suspect that it is me
exposing the hypocrisy
of modern day society.
24-Jun-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Related quotes
Just deserts
I’ve killed before and will again.
I kill for justice not for gain
So many criminals go free
because of their ability.
To hire a lawyer who will try
To make the truth appear a lie
So they escape just punishment.
Although it is self evident
That crafty legal argument
based on some ancient precedent
The merest technicality
persuades the judge to set them free
I’m not constrained by petty rules
and those that are I see as fools
I pursue justice ceaselessly
and do my duty faithfully
And those I deem deserve to die.
The punishment that I apply.
Is merely justice long delayed
I play the part that I have played.
That of the executioner
Or murderer if you prefer.
For many years without remorse
And I will carry on of course.
I’ve killed before and will again
As long as criminals obtain.
Immunity they don’t deserve
a fact I frequently observe.
In courts of law. Guilty men go free.
Blind justice can depend on me.
To disregard such foolishness
I am completely pitiless.
Though self appointed I redress
injustice with some small success.
I operate in secrecy
It is a prime necessity.
You do not need to know my name
I have no wish for worldly fame.
I take my duties seriously.
and that’s reward enough for me.
I rectify the courts mistakes
a little thought is all it takes.
Each guilty man the courts set free.
I’ll execute eventually.
But I must make it crystal clear
that innocents have naught to fear.
I only punish guilty men
before they can offend again.
Prevention is better than cure
I see no reason to endure.
Acquittals earned by lawyer’s lies.
I think a higher law applies.
If you transgress then you must pay.
There’s nothing more I need to say. http: //blog.myspace.com.poeticpiers
13/07/2009
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Wordpower for Bro J.T.Early
It was as a schoolboy he
became entranced by poetry
He loved the rhythm and the rhyme
which made his words keep to strict time.
His talent was quite natural
although it was unusual.
He understood instinctively,
what was and was not poetry.
He learnt with words he could command
although he did not understand.
That he was casting potent spells
which tapped into the deepest wells
of other folks experience.
But as he grew in confidence.
In time he came to realise.
His childhood choice had been most wise
and that by mastering poetry.
He’d also mastered wizardry,
he held the power to bless or curse
just by the power of his verse.
He chose to use his power for good
as any decent poet would.
So he confined his wizardry
where it belonged to poetry.
Remember poets when you write
it is your duty to delight
to educate and entertain
and never to another’s bane.
10-Jul-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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A matter of choice for M'Lady Indira
Some take their writing seriously
Whilst others are just dilettantes
Though my muse states imperiously,
that I must write the way she wants
The duties writers undertake
are manifold and various.
They have to write make no mistake
on subjects light or serious.
They know it is their duty to
deflate the self important fools.
Who in their ignorance pursue
a vain attempt to scrap all rules.
Discard the lessons of the past.
Insisting anything will do.
A fashion I am sure wont last
when readers can compare it to.
Fine verse that stood the test of time.
The glories of formality
by masters of meter and rhyme.
Which they left for posterity.
Though I concede all have the right,
to write in any way they choose.
To some free form is sheer delight.
All down to taste I must suppose.
26-Jul-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Maiden Aunt for Friend Bob
She smiled her constipated smile.
A spinster of a certain age
as she condemned the modern style.
Moustache bristling with righteous rage.
It isn’t right her constant cry.
The freedom the young have today
Their attitude I must decry
we weren’t allowed to act that way.
I was taught virginity
was some thing ladies should retain
and not surrender easily.
Once lost something you can’t regain.
A girl should wait until she’s wed
Before allowing liberties.
I repeat what my mother said
Young ladies must act properly.
What makes me mad is I missed out
Nobody ever fancied me
Except the butcher’s boy a lout
of lower social class than me.
So I retained my maiden hood
more accident than good intent.
I would have lost it if I could
if I had found a likely gent..
I must confess I’m envious
a touch of green eyed jealousy
What makes me frankly furious
I lacked the opportunity
.
I think I would have given in.
In fact I bloody sure I would
If I had, had the chance to sin
instead of acting like a prude.
2-Jun-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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The culture demands writers?
What for do you write?
For an applause.
What from do you write?
From borrowings.
Why should you write?
To get pleasure in catharsis.
Why do you chose writing>
Most suited to an idler.
Do you write to cure the society?
No.
Do you write to save the society?
No.
Then, why?
Writings to people
Are cosmetics to women.
The culture demands them
16.05.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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L2,7,22
people are playing games
often they fight, the rules are
changed without notice,
people are killing each other,
the dead lose, the winner is
the living, there is no more
argument about this,
case is closed.
they play their games over
and over again, time is a
room, there are no referees,
no one is just, inherent is
the fraud, the swindler is
the hero, the rich ones have
always crimes behind their
great fortunes,
sometimes they go to court,
judges are made by them
in accordance with their genes,
and those who mold them from
their own clay, are those that
always win
such is the state of affairs,
to cover all these, these twisted
ways, those that have the gold,
invent religion, create society,
write their history, proclaim their
deities, codify their laws, print
the books, carpenter their
own kind of teachers, sculpt
a civilization,
i am a small man, i do not have
many years in my cells, i simply
watch, i do not say much, i keep
my mouth shut, i write a diary,
i keep a journal, i have a blog,
i do facebook, i fit in, i am not
that twisted somehow, i have
objections, i protest inside my
square head, i write in ciphers, i do
not want to be understood, neither
do i want myself to be used.
if you read me, you get nothing.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Check, double check and discard for friend Thad
You can prove statistically.
The truth of things which cannot be
proven empirically.
Manipulating carefully
the figures which do not agree.
You seem to prove apparently.
The truth of facts which are untrue.
That is what fanatics do
in their attempts to persuade you.
You must adopt their point of view
but you are foolish if you do.
What can be proved statistically
To me lacks credibility
and can be disproved easily.
Examined analytically
as all statistics ought to be.
15-Aug-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Vengeance delayed storypoem
My country taught me how to kill
and when I had sufficient skill
I was recruited secretly
to serve a special agency.
My given task was to erase
any who opposed our ways
at home abroad where I was sent
To which I gave my free assent.
I slowly came to realise
I could not always recognise.
My target as an enemy.
Suspected they were using me
Though I had little evidence.
Some missions seemed to make no sense
I was expected to obey
my instructions come what may/
My duty was to do or die
I had no right to question why
There was no way I could resign
or else the next death would be mine.
I had known other colleagues die
quite frequently Now I knew why.
I was convinced my turn would come
Because a dead man will stay dumb.
I chose instead to disappear.
Create a new life far from here.
Although I killed for my country
I’m certain they will search for me.
They are afraid that if I chose
their dirty secrets to expose.
They have no means of stopping
me whilst I remain at liberty
They would much rather I was dead.
I have a price upon my head.
So I have planned accordingly
If they succeed in killing me.
My story will be given to
the press who will know what to do
.I’ll take revenge posthumously.
on liars who exploited me.
22/04/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Family Secrets
Every family has its secrets
hidden in the dark corners of the past,
the ones passed down
from generation to generation
never to be revealed to the outside world.
Some are considered shameful,
others fill the heart with dread,
all them are secrets
best kept within the family.
Some do reveal themselves
in the most astonishing ways,
an innocent conversation
and something never talked about
is suddenly revealed.
Something thought so shameful,
means nothing anymore,
but is never cast aside
and someone wishes
that earlier that secret
should have been revealed.
Many lives are turned
upside down now
and will never be the same.
Now the shame is not in the secret,
but in that, it was never revealed.
8 April 2011
poem by David Harris
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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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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Accidental death story poem
Along the coast a lonely road.
That’s closely watched buy excise men.
Who know that smugglers transport their load
along this roadway now and then.
They do not know but they suspect
that it might well be pure cocaine.
In vain they try to intercept.
The smugglers know when to expect.
the excise men to lie in wait
Not only when but they know where
The local folks communicate
conspire to foil excise men.
The smugglers here traditionally
have always ignored import laws.
There is no reason they can see
why they should change their ways; Of course
they know there’s money to be made
by smuggling drugs illicitly.
Although in favour of free trade
they cannot possibly agree.
To let drug pedlars infiltrate
They guard their secrets jealously.
Much more efficient than the state
arranging accidents at sea.
Small boats go missing frequently
when carrying drugs from ship to shore.
The locals can quite easily
defend this coast for evermore.
The wont allow drug smugglers to
unload their cargoes secretly.
They know exactly what to do.
To prevent them permanently.
They aren’t constrained by silly rules
which hamper the authorities.
They execute the greedy fools
and hide the evidence at sea
To them smugglings an honest trade
evading duty is their aim.
But they have rules which are obeyed
and smuggling drugs is not their game.
Though technically they break the law
importing certain luxuries.
It seems that they protect these shores
From drug dealers efficiently.
They only have one penalty
and don’t waste time in courts of law.
They execute immediately.
The silent sea will keep the score.
Drug smugglers meet with accidents
as they approach this rocky shore,
So frequent are these incidents
they’re nor newsworthy any more.
Drug smugglers deserve to die.
Although you’re free to disagree.
I for one won’t question why
They’ re terminated quietly.
Accidents happen easily
and they might well be genuine.
Explained away quite feasibly
you have your belief: I have mine.
1-Jan-09
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Without fear or Favour
Without fear or favour
I see no need to demonstrate
that I wield greater powers than most.
A fact my friends appreciate
and enemies learn to their cost.
I use my powers selectively
Adhering to the right hand path
I am well versed in wizardry
and very seldom moved to wrath.
But I will punish the offence
of any black magician
armoured in false confidence.
Who tries to disregard the ban.
The first law taught to any mage
Thou shalt not use your power to hurt.
A rule renewed at every stage
from novice to the more expert.
As always there will be some fools
consumed by their own selfishness
Decide to ignore the lawful rules
and use their power to curse not bless.
I am the guardian of the law,
A duty I take seriously,
the purity of magic lore
must be maintained. I oversee
practitioners of every grade.
From novice to the fully fledged
To see the first law is obeyed
For magic power is double edged.
When used for good meets with success
but if used improperly.
Deserves and will receive no less
than the ultimate penalty.
I will destroy then utterly.
I have supreme authority
and each one knew the penalty
for using power wrongfully.
So make you choices carefully.
Obey the sacred oath you swore.
Or you must then answer to me
and I have heard it all before.
There’s no excuse that you can make
I will erase you from the roll.
You have to pay for your mistake.
May god have mercy on your soul.
19-Aug-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Fixed routine.
I always choose to take this way
This quiet path leads to my door,
Today as every other day.
I have no fear that I may stray.
I see no reason to explore.
I always choose to take this way.
Here sun and shadow interplay
Creating shapes not seen before.
Today as every other day.
The song thrush sings his roundelay.
I feel my jaded spirits soar
I always choose to take this way.
Though I could choose another way
I am aware of two or more.
Today as every other day.
It adds some pleasure to my day
a feeling I have known before.
I always choose to take this way
Today as every other day.
Wednesday,10 November 2010
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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As ye sow so shall ye reap
Tenebrous shadows congregate
and murmur surreptitiously.
About the vagaries of fate
and who or what they used to be.
Once powerful now powerless.
They complain interminably
but to the world have no access.
No power on earth can set them free.
They are condemned for their past sins
and all must serve their sentence out
But then of course new life begins
another chance of finding out.
Where they went wrong, try to amend
for hurts they caused deliberately.
Impossible now to pretend.
They see with renewed clarity.
That as you sow so shall you reap.
This simple law can’t be repealed.
That’s why the shadows wail and weep
because their sins lie unconcealed.
Each act recorded faithfully
there is no way that you can lie.
Although you acted furtively
you can’t escape the watchful eye.
Of your own deep subconscious mind
Recording what you did and why.
A monitor that’s well designed
to bring to light what you deny.
Yours is the only evidence
that karmic law will listen to.
No one can speak in your defence.
The faults are clearly down to you.
You are the jury and the judge
and you impose your own sentence.
No legal niceties to fudge
and no pretended penitence.
You join the other shadows who
wait in the dark impatiently.
To be reborn as someone new.
Your role selected carefully.
To give the opportunity
to undertake the tests again.
The tests you failed so miserably
by causing other people pain.
You’ll suffer as you caused them to
Their agonies will be redressed
your wickedness rebounds on you
Until the lesson is impressed.
If you succeed you can move on
It is entirely up to you.
Each life can teach a new lesson
as each life is intended to.
No one’s condemned eternally
you always get another chance.
Some learn their lessons easily
according to their circumstance.
But others find it very hard
and fail the test repeatedly.
A life of misery their reward
but they will learn eventually.
That what you give is what you get.
The scales must balance perfectly.
All other laws you can forget.
All men are treated equally
…13-Jul-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Justice for all storypoem
The bards of old their stories told.
In rhyming verse they had writ,
to entertain the young and old.
Sometimes they stretched the truth a bit.
To please their current lordly host
They would extol his bravery
and of his prowess loudly boast.
Although their words lacked verity.
They spread the news from far and near.
Tailored to suit their audience.
Some news which they were glad to hear.
The bards received in recompense.
The recognition and respect
accorded to them for their skill.
A place to sleep as you’d expect
and food and drink enough to fill.
Always treated as a welcome guest
in manor house or lordly hall
They could fulfil their host’s requests
with stories suitable for all.
Love stories for the ladies ears
and tales of war to suit the men
Old tales for those advanced in years
which could recall their youth again.
The bards were guardians of the lore
which was passed down from bard to bard.
The masters of bryhonic law
Which they had studied long and hard.
It took them one and twenty years
to earn the title of a bard.
Long years of travel sweat and tears.
Authority was their reward.
All men were subject to the law
from kitchen churl to lordly knight
All disputes then were brought before
a bard to judge as was their right.
He listened to the evidence
then made his judgement openly
Applied the law with common sense
but always judged impartially.
But that was then unlike today.
When every man obeyed the law.
But sadly we have gone astray
There is no justice any more.
The laws today are not applied
to rich and poor men equally.
All thoughts of justice cast
aside in our corrupt society.
A guilty man can go Scott free
when clever lawyers twist the laws
and find some technicality.
For which they are well paid of course.
There are no bryhon bards today
and poets get but scant respect
But still we try to show the way
We must protest poetically.
The conscience of society
that has to be our modern role.
To outline with our poetry
Justice for all should be our goal.
2-Feb-09
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Absence of Fear
Where is all the fear today, in God, men know, at least they say?
Where is the fear within hearts, when from God a nation departs?
Forsaking God’s moral decrees, this, to do whatever they please,
Straying far from righteousness, to fill the land with godlessness.
What are we teaching children today, as men widen a darker way?
While shaking their fist of reproof, at our Lord’s unchanging Truth,
Enticing many a soul onto a path, that only invites His Holy Wrath;
And it’s hard to truly understand, just what’s happened to our land.
Our morals have indeed declined, this as many are spiritually blind,
Just giving lip service to the Lord, as Righteousness goes ignored,
With many others just unaware, of the prince of the power of the air,
Not changing his ways at all, while deceiving souls to spiritually fall.
Have we truly fallen that far, deceived by Lucifer, that morning star?
As leaders and the people praise, not God’s, but Satan’s evil ways;
While the days become darker still, in a land opposed to God’s Will,
Like Lucifer opposing his Creator, and cast down for judgment later.
How can men say they know, God, when fear of Him doesn’t show?
Both, in choices they make today, and in the lives that they display.
The wisdom required, understand, is a fear of God, across the land,
For if we do not return to God, we just may see His Wrath and Rod!
(Copyright ©08/2010)
Last Man for friend J.T.Early
I am alone, last of my race
The reign of man is nearly done
I wonder who will take our place.
I am the last and only one.
WE had our chance but failed the test.
Our foolish pride ensured we would
Because we thought that we knew best
instead of living as we should.
We chose instead belligerence
and Might is Right became our creed.
Despite the mounting evidence
that we wrong we paid no heed.
We flouted Mother Nature’s rules
Took much more than our rightful share
A race of self destructive fools
for others rights we did not care.
It had to come it was bound to.
She’d reached the end of her patience
and knew exactly what to do.
So she unleashed a pestilence.
Against which man had no defence.
The doctors failed although they tried
they simply lacked the competence.
Each passing day more people died.
I am alone last of my race
and I too soon must leave the stage.
I wonder who will take our place
to usher in a brand new age.
23-May-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Self made Man
Alas alack and woe is me
My life is filled with misery
I loved a lass who loved not me
She treated me disdainfully.
She saw herself as upper class
And much superior to me.
A barrier I could not pass.
A subtle form of cruelty.
But time moves on and so did I
I went to university
Where somewhat different rules apply
You’re judged on your ability.
I earned a double first degree.
I studied politics and law
So I was qualified to be
What I decided either or.
My tutor recommended me
to several of his well placed friends.
Who he felt quite probably
Would use me to suit their own ends
I became a secretary
To a rising star in politics
Who chose to place his trust in me.
To cover up his dirty tricks.
I managed this successfully.
He taught me more than what he thought.
Although I served him loyally
I knew much more than what I ought.
Eventually he sponsored me
to be his party’s candidate.
I was elected as M.P
Then all I had to do was wait.
For the right opportunity.
To demonstrate what I could do.
Show my potentiality
To the elite, the favoured few.
The men who held the power to
Promote me or to hold me back.
I paid respect where it was due
and very soon I was on track.
To realise my ambition.
To be a junior minister.
Perhaps in education
or something rather similar.
I knew enough to toe the line
Without appearing threatening
And soon a junior post was mine.
Which in itself was heartening.
I was quite sure I could secure
all the support that I would need.
To land myself a sinecure
I had no doubt I would succeed
I had recorded secretly
The dirty tricks that they had played.
And told them confidentially
About records I had made.
I soon acquired cabinet rank.
My erstwhile mentor taught me well
Although his methods sometimes stank
I learnt as I endured the smell
I am the minister for trade
I travel everywhere first class
My only job is to persuade
The members of the working class
I have their interests at heart
It’s not an easy thing to do.
My lies are truly works of art
They sound as if they could be true.
I never promise anything.
But they are convinced that I do
I am well used to public speaking
They believe ‘cos they want to.
That is the art of politics.
If you can fake sincerity.
And conceal your dirty tricks.
Then you are where you ought to be.
The public now do not believe
That M.P.s have integrity
Who earn respect they don’t receive.
I do not let that worry me.
I shall receive my knighthood soon
And then retire from public life.
Nobody can prick my balloon
Although rumours may be rife.
There is no concrete evidence
That anybody can provide
I can say that with confidence
No one can prove that I ever lied.
I only claimed what I was due.
I made quite sure to follow rules.
The claims I made were always true
Unlike the other greedy fools.
I will retire with dignity
With my integrity intact
At least it will appear to be
although it may not be in fact.
Appearances are all that count.
In the modern world today.
You never hear the true account
Which people know but dare not say.
Sunday,18 September 2011
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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The birth of poetry for M lady Mary Gordley
The birth of poetry.
Before the advent of the written word.
When all knowledge was passed on orally.
then history relied on memory.
Men had to memorise all that they heard
Perhaps this was the birth of poetry.
The tribal elders found they could recall
in simple rhyming verses best of all.
Easily committed to memory.
Long, long before recorded history.
The elders chose and trained one man to be
The current guardian of their legacy
of knowledge they had garnered carefully.
When all knowledge was passed on orally
Then history relied on memory
Poetic piers
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12-May-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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The Poetic Experience (Part Three)
we cry out for peace,
but there can be no peace
until we find peace within...
men who are not at peace
within... start wars, fight wars,
and kill innocent people.
the whole journey begins and
ends within... when we stray
from the path we become the tool
of suffering... we become fear!
the poetic experience seeks
to free us from our fears...
and it begins by being a mirror!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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