Who Knows for J T Earley
Who Knows
I wonder where muses reside.
Externally or deep inside
some remote corner of the brain.
A quiet spot where they can gain
full access to your memories.
Which they manipulate with ease,
inserting things you could not know.
About events too long ago
for you to possibly recall.
The screaming of a minie ball
as butternut fought with blue grey.
As if you heard it yesterday.
Is my muse an entity
who has her own identity.
Or just another part of me
which can act independently.
Forgive me if I seem confused
sometimes I think I’m being used
Who really writes my poetry
is it my muse or is it me.
4-Jul-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Related quotes
Help Wanted
I am compelled, perhaps obsessed.
Would be a better choice of word.
My muse allows me little rest.
She is convinced that she know best
No matter how much I protest
She insists she has the right
To make me write by day and night.
I sometimes feel I am possessed
Although the idea seems absurd.
My judgement marred by lack of rest
I find reality is blurred.
I’m sure my muse abuses me
I’m tired of her tyranny.
I really think that it would be
Better if she left. Undeterred
She still insists that she knows best.
And acts as if she hasn’t heard.
That poets can dismiss their muse
When they are guilty of abuse.
I’m sick of being under stress
Although I would have much
preferred not to cause my muse distress
She pretended she misheard.
When I told her we were through
It was the only thing to do.
I did not like her attitude.
But now I am without a muse.
Although I have some aptitude
I must arrange some interviews
I will be careful when I choose
Some muse to fill the vacancy.
A muse that will not bully me.
Monday,17 October 2011
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Faded photograph
A snapshot taken years ago.
Somewhat lacking clarity.
Of some young guys I used to know
In fact the skinny one is me.
The other two I can recall,
their faces well but not their names
Although I try nothing at all.
My memory is playing games
I wonder where they are today
I wonder if they remember me
The passing years erode away
your memories ability.
To regain any access to
some things you know that you once knew
Monday,13 February 2012
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Changing perspective for bro Colin
A patchwork quilt of sunlit fields
Is visible as grey mist yields
to the majesty of the sun.
The morning mist and night shadows
are well aware that they must go
Now that a new day has begun.
The distant hills which I now see
Become for me reality
Now that the mists have fully gone.
No longer just a fantasy,
a half forgotten memory.
I wandered happily alone.
I did not lack for company
I had my book of poetry.
What more could any poet need
except a quiet spot to read.
31/08/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Accident.experiment or something meant.for M lady Ernestine.
I sometimes wonder why I ponder
on questions I cannot answer.
Why do I sit and wrack my brain
when there is nothing I can gain.
My endless curiosity
constantly compelling me.
To try and solve the mystery,
which has plagued man through history.
Did God create the race of man
for reasons known to him alone?
Is there an underlying plan
Which lies beneath all that is known.
Or were we just an accident
which has no purpose or intent.
The question which I put to you.
Which do you believe is true?
It’s not a case of either or
there could be many, many more,
explanations I suppose,
the truth is nobody knows.
You do not even have to choose,
you are entitled to refuse.
Though personally I shall still muse
and try to clarify my views.
Tuesday,11 May 2010
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Grown men do cry
Old memories which linger still.
Can bring the tear drops to my eyes
Sometimes they take me by surprise
and cause my tears to freely spill.
I’m not afraid to say they do.
There is no reason I should be.
My memories both old and new
are an integral part of me.
Sometimes they’re tears of happiness
and I am smiling through my tears.
Though other tears recall sadness
that I have suffered through the years.
Old memories reminding me
of joy and sorrow equally.
Monday,09 November 2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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We are not amused for M lady Mary Gordley
I cannot sleep the whole night through.
My muse will not allow me to
when she commands I must obey.
I wish she’d take a holiday.
She thinks that sleeping is a crime
she does not sleep so why should I.
A complete and utter waste of time.
Which I could better occupy
by sitting at my desk to write
instead of lazing in my bed.
I think she thinks she has the right.
She just ignores all I have said.
Some folks complain of writers block
whilst I have writers Diarrhoea
My muse would hide beneath a rock
if she could not supply ideas.
Which I must translate into verse
to demonstrate her eloquence
She views my fatigue as perverse;
of very little consequence.
An active muse can be a curse
I sometimes wish she’d stay away
To have no muse would be much worse
I just give in do it her way.
5-Jun-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Bussokusekiku Japanese form
Bussokusekiku
6 lines
5 syllable, line one
7 syllables line two
5 syllables line three
7 syllables in the last three lines
Orientally
inspired I write poetry.
Exercise my brain
Look at things differently
If I can do it so can you
White chrysanthemum.
Signifying purity
One single blossom.
Typically Japanese
in its simplicity
Needs no explanation.
Savage warrior
who composes poetry.
Shows his softer side.
He must be a samurai.
A well trained brave fighting man
Writes beautifully of love.
28/10/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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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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Tribute to W.B.Yeats
When you are old and grey and full of sleep
And nodding by the fireside. Take down this book
and slowly read and dream of the soft look.
Your eyes once had and of their shadows deep
William Butler Yeats 1865-1939
A tribute to W.B Yeats
When you are old and grey and full of sleep
and conscious thoughts go in and out.
I am quite sure I have no doubt.
That memories will unbidden creep
And nodding by the fireside. Take down this book
a true record of all that’s been
Everything you’ve done and seen.
It is past time to take another look.
And slowly read and dream of the soft look
you used to see in your lovers eyes.
You are content because you realise.
There is contained within this book
Your eyes once had and of their shadow deep
Are still the same they have not changed.
Constant they have not been re-arranged
All of the memories you chose to keep.
31/08/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Foregone Conclusion. For M'selle Perrault
My muse like any woman will
use her feminine wiles and skill
To persuade me to her view
and will persist until I do
Exactly as she wants me to.
I’m well aware that she will win.
Should I surrender just give in?
I must defend my self respect
it is the least she will expect
So I protest to no effect.
When my muse makes up her mind.
Like any poet I will find.
I have no choice but to obey
and there is nothing I can say.
She will reject each argument.
That I can muster and present
Although it’s futile to resist.
My fragile ego will insist
I have no option but persist
to register my discontent.
Though this does not deter my muse.
She knows full well I can’t refuse.
She knows from my past history.
I will submit reluctantly
She always wins eventually
She knows I must put on a show
to satisfy my male ego.
She is prepared to wait until
I do obey her sovereign will.
She makes that clearly evident.
I cannot win I’m bound to lose
When I argue with my muse.
She’s confident she will prevail.
After all I’m only a male
Somewhat naïve and innocent.
She knows I am a gentleman
that’s why she’s certain that she can.
Persuade coerce or bully me
Until give in and agree.
My muse will brook no argument.
Sunday,24 October 2010
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Seize the day
Although society expects
that old folk should live quietly.
I don’t accept foolish precepts
I cannot possibly agree
Nobody can dictate to me
what I should or should not do.
I won’t surrender easily
I’m always trying something new.
I will not sit and vegetate
in my arm chair and watch T.V.
I say this most vehemently.
Though I am old I’m not brain dead
I lead an active life instead.
31-Jan-09
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Baidoo
To gain access to the forest is like,
To gain access to your love;
And, you are like one of the smart waiters around me!
But, let me break the jink.
Of the forest of love that muses with my heart!
For, my mind is now set on you like the eternal blues of love;
And i will always wait for you my sweet one,
Because, you are the very one that my heart had been searching for.
Baidoo my lover!
receive my muse and take in my message;
For, to gain access to your love is like,
To gain access to the thick forest!
And, i will always do my best to wait for you always.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Freethinker for J.T.Ellison
Freethinker
I do believe that memory can be passed down genetically
Encoded in our D.N.A Although I know the experts say
My theory’s unsustainable, there is no proof obtainable.
For all their professed expertise. My theory causes them unease.
They are afraid I might be right. It could explain why men take fright.
When darkness falls and they can’t see, arousing repressed memories
Of long ago when men were prey which linger to the present day
Although the experts can’t explain the workings of the human brain.
The experts say it can’t be so: They know less than they think they know.
I don’t accept the experts view I see no reason I should do
I still believe that memory can be passed down genetically.
Encoded in our D.N.A. No matter what the experts say.
They cannot force me to agree for I think independently
31/05/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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House Hunting for M lady Ann Beard
Some houses seem to welcome you.
You feel at ease immediately.
It is if the walls recall
What happened here and store it all.
The triumphs and the tragedies
Firm memories of past events
Have been recorded faithfully
Each and every incident.
If you are at all sensitive
You tune into the ambience,
the positive and negative.
Impinge somehow so you can sense.
That something dreadful happened here
It may be faint it may be strong
but it affects the atmosphere.
You know at once this house is wrong
You’re certain that it will not do.
You have no doubt, no doubt at all
You know the house is telling you
it has no choice it must recall
All the unpleasant memories
which it has stored so faithfully.
For decades perhaps centuries.
You choose to leave immediately.
The next house which you choose to view
affects you in a different way.
It seems prepared to welcome you.
You can decide without delay
It is not hard to make the choice
This is the house that you will buy
You listen to that house’s voice
because you know it cannot lie.
You go ahead complete the deal
prepare to move in right away
You are content because you feel
that everything has gone your way.
You know that it was meant to be
It’s all that you were looking for.
This house responds positively
You need not look at any more.
21/07/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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The Daily Round.
The grey dawn breaks and I awake,
slowly and reluctantly.
A wash and shave is all it takes
for me to wake up properly.
I get dressed automatically
in preparation for the day.
But first I need some fresh coffee
before I plunge into the fray.
The household chores which must be done,
although I did them yesterday
But yesterday’s already gone
and tomorrow is on its way.
the household tasks always remain
and every day need done again.
Friday,29 January 2010
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Case Hardened for Joe Poewhit
A macho man must strut his stuff.
Because he lacks the sense to see
That any man who’s man enough
Can let his feelings show freely
Secure in his identity
He does not care what other say
about his masculinity.
He chooses to go his own way.
But macho men feel they must hide
behind a shield of bravado
But deep inside they’re terrified
that other people get to know.
Their attitude is self defence
their bravado is all pretence
Sunday,17 January 2010
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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The best laid plans for J.T Ellison
The best laid plans
He sits and thinks but rarely shares
the subject of his pondering
He is convinced nobody cares
to hear his views on anything.
He does not like to watch T.V.
unlike the other residents.
He’s happy sitting quietly
Reviewing long ago events.
When he was self sufficient.
Intelligent and capable
‘til a cerebral accident
which rendered him incapable
of living independently.
Forced his reception into care
although it’s very plain to see
He would much rather be elsewhere.
Though he’s disabled physically
His mental capability
is not impaired apparently.
He accepts philosophically.
Life rarely goes as you have planned.
We meet with things we don’t expect
for fate not man is in command
What fate decrees we must accept.
22/04/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Ebenezer Shillingtree.R.I.P
I sit and muse amongst the tombs.
Only disturbed by sonic booms
as fighter planes pass overhead.
A noise enough to wake the dead.
The dead do not agree with me.
Continue sleeping peacefully.
Planes interrupt my train of thought
I cannot get the peace I sought
I seek peace in this cemetery
So I can write my poetry
The dead don’t question what I do.
Perhaps they might do if they knew.
Their headstones can inspire me
I use their strange names shamelessly.
18-May-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Interdependence for MY Lady Irene
I go where my lady goes.
Because I need her I suppose
I need her more than she needs me.
Though doubtless she would not agree.
Where she is you will find me
because that’s where I want to be.
We have achieved togetherness
Our partnerships a great success
For I need her and she needs me
for us it works efficiently
A mutual dependency which binds
us but still leaves us free.
To act as independently
as we feel any need to be.
4-Aug-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Hope overcomes experience.
I understand that love can die.
Without a cause apparently.
There is no point in asking why.
We must accept that agony
replaces erstwhile ecstasy
We used to share so long ago.
So we decide reluctantly
the time has come we must let go.
We can retain fond memories
or do our damndest to forget
though neither can be done with ease.
Because we are not ready yet.
No doubt we’ll fall in love again
undeterred by our past pain.
Thursday,27 May 2010
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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