Why must I? for Cp Sharma
Why must I
The mist is lifting slowly. So
I can see the way ahead.
Although I’m not allowed to know
my future fate. I need not dread.
The Unknown hidden by the mist
evaporated by the sun.
I will go on I will persist
until my distant goal is won.
The quest embarked upon at birth
which will not end until I die.
My sojourn on the planet earth
but always I must question why.
I have no choice but journey on
No one can answer my question.
27/05/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Related quotes
My Question for M lady Fay
There is a question I must pose
In the vain hope that someone knows
Who’s willing to enlighten me.
Before my birth where would I be
This question always puzzles me
and when I die where do I go.
I have asked priests who hesitate
to answer me, they vacillate.
Because in truth they do not know.
They quote their Holy Book to me
But I have looked and cannot see.
The answer that I seek to find.
Why is it that they pretend to know
from whence I came and where I go.
And yet they will not answer me.
My question is a simple one
I make it clear to everyone.
But no one seems to understand.
The truth is what I seek to know
From whence I came where do I go.
Will somebody please answer me.
20-Nov-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Onward Ever Onward.
I must pursue my endless quest.
My destination is unknown
Although the path is overgrown
I have no choice I must go on.
I’m not allowed to stop and rest
I have to journey on alone.
I have no choice I must go on
although the path is overgrown.
It’s up to me to do my best
until my journeying is done.
Although the path is overgrown
I have no choice I must go on..
Perhaps in time I’ll pass the test
Show I could do it on my own.
I have no choice I must go on
Although the path is overgrown.
Each man must pursue his own quest
It’s something he must do alone.
Although the path is overgrown
There is no choice you must go on.
Mirrored refrain created by Stephanie Rypnyk
Sunday,17 January 2010.
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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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Before the beginning
Why does the human race exist?
Unanswered questions will persist.
Philosophers and scientists
All try to penetrate the mists.
It seems as if each answer found,
leads to a question more profound.
It often seems the evidence
flies in the face of common sense.
Some premises I accept as true
may seem quite different to you.
The things we know or think we know.
Frequently prove to be not so.
It all depends how we perceive
the so called facts which we believe.
Is there a God it would seem so.
I can believe but do not know.
We cannot prove it either way
and so unanswered questions stay.
Unanswered now as they have done
since mans history was begun.
Although we ask we get no reply
Is God still there or did he die?
16/04/2009
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Demystified for M' lady Cate
The mist persists, it will insist
it has the right to block the light
with trailing wisps of dirty white.
The mist is wrong and it will learn
to leave when it has served its turn
Because the sun will rise and burn
the remnants of the mist away
There is no way that it can stay
once the bright sun comes out to play.
The mist defeated has to go.
It leaves reluctantly and slow
but where it goes I do not know.
It will return with fall of night
lurk in the darkness hid from sight.
Unless outlined by the moonlight.
The silver light makes it appear
to be the ghosts which cause men fear.
But they will quickly disappear
When banks of cloud obscure the light.
Be re-absorbed into the night.
to their dismay but men’s delight.
The mists persist they wont desist
as long as day and night exist
and if they did they would be missed.
The moisture which the mist supply
the plants trees drink thirstily.
Without the mists some plants would die.
1-Jun-08
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Uncertainty for Friend J.T. Ellison
There is a question troubling me.
How do I know that I am me?
You question my identity
I answer satisfactorily.
You are convinced that I am me.
Though I have passed your scrutiny
and proved I’m who I claim to be
I’m half convinced that I might be
somebody else who thinks he’s me.
This worries me considerably.
I can’t be sure that I am me
A crisis of identity.
You would worry if you were me
plagued by this uncertainty.
6-May-08
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Don't ask me
Sometimes I see though partially.
Like images through frosted glass.
Beyond control, sporadically
A foretaste of what is to come.
Sometimes reflections from the past.
Abilities which are not welcome.
A family trait inherited
an extra sensitivity
At times we see the way ahead.
But what we see we do not say.
Because we know we cannot change
future events in any way.
This is the cross we have to bear
the second sight can be a curse
to know but know we cannot share.
I would prefer that I was blind
Unable to see through the mists
.I feel that fate has been unkind.
To grant a talent I can’t use
It seems quite purposeless to me
If I had choice I would refuse.
I do not really want to see
what lies ahead for anyone.
What fate decrees will come to be.
I did not choose I was chosen
to inherit this ability
to see what lies beyond our ken.
My family is known to be
possessors of the second sight
but taught to use it sparingly.
I dare not share the things I see.
I can’t be sure I am correct
I will not share. So don’t ask me.
15/06/2009
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Merciful Release?
Merciful Release.
The mist descended suddenly.
Totally unexpectedly.
I could not see to find my way
So I decided I should stay
Just where I was. It seemed to be.
The wisest choice
I’m not so certain that it was
I think perhaps that is because.
The clammy fog embraces me
And whispers to me quietly
You have no choice.
If I decide to let you go
I am quite certain you will know.
Not to brave the moors alone
These moors are mine all that I own
and I rejoice.
I have the power to heal or kill
I always had and always will.
These moors are worthy of respect
It is mission to protect.
It whispered sotto voice.
I will remember till I die.
There is no reason I should lie
The day the mist enveloped me
and whispered to me quietly
I hear that voice.
In nightmares to this very day.
Although it let me go my way.
I still retain the memory
Of the lesson taught to me.
The moors own voice.
Although it spoke so quietly
Is etched deep in my memory
I can’t forget although I try
And to this day I wonder why.
It made the choice
To set me free as suddenly
as the mist had captured me.
I don’t suppose I’ll ever know
Why it chose to let me go
I had no choice.
The moors have little time for fools
They can and will enforce their rules
I'm forced to take it seriously
Or pay the price
Tuesday,15 November 2011
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Wondering for M 'lady Tara
.
Today I saw a winsome Nun.
A negative in black and white.
I wondered if she had begun
to question if her choice was right.
And was she really positive
a life of prayer would satisfy
When she had so much more to give,
given the opportunity
Had her choice been freely made?
Or was she merely dutiful?
Had she been promised as a child?
It’s not at all unusual
to be denied the right to choose.
A subtle form of child abuse.
19-May-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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I can and I will! !
Welsh Bardic form
Written in heptasyllabic (7 syllable) Quatrains
Line three cross rhymes with the central syllables of line four.
Lines one, two and four carry the main Rhyme
Rhyme pattern
XXXXXXa
XXXXXXa
XXXXXXb
XXXXb Xa
Example
There is no way I can know
Trials I must undergo.
This must be hidden from me
Lest I should be laid down low.
And see time as my mortal foe.
It is mete I should not know.
A mans future has to be
a deep mystery and so.
It was decreed long ago
No man is allowed to know
what his fate will come to be
in dire jeopardy or no.
The years will pass quick or slow.
Troubles come and troubles go
Insofar as I can see
Nobody is free to know.
I need no one to tell me so
We go where we have to go
Until we eventually
are allowed to see and know.
20-Dec-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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It could happen to you.
He walks alone, she walks alone.
Each to the other one unknown.
She dreams of love, he dreams of love.
It seems at last the fates approve.
They met quite accidentally.
The time was right apparently
He smiles, she smiles and then they talk
and they agree to share their walk
She hopes that he, he hopes that she
enjoy each others company.
It seems they did for both agree
to walk together frequently.
He was alone, she was alone.
But now their loneliness has gone.
She has a friend, he has a friend.
It may well be that in the end
They’ll realise that it was meant.
Their meeting was no accident
But fate had planned it from the start
They were not meant to be apart.
And who are they to disagree.
What fate decrees must come to be.
She is content, he is content.
Each thinks the other heaven sent.
As well they might fate has the right
to interfere in love affairs.
Their future now is looking bright.
Fate brings together matching pairs.
Though he was shy and she was shy
Fate had decided they should be
a couple.No one can deny
that fate had matched them perfectly
He’s not alone, she’s not alone
Their friendship slowly ripening
into what they have never known.
As love insists on blossoming.
A daily walk for exercise.
They say is very good for you.
It may well be fate has a surprise
in store.You might find someone too.
Friday,04 December 2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Perfect Justice
The boy donned his explosive vest
He had been brainwashed by the best
He was convinced by suicide
he’d be a martyr. Cause for pride
to all is friends and family
Too ignorant to question why.
His teacher was apparently
quite content to let others die.
When he himself was not prepared.
His life too precious to be spared
Though advocating suicide.
These evil men are satisfied.
Persuading naïve boys to die.
Although they are aware they lie.
The boys mere weapons for their use
The ultimate of child abuse.
Fortunately this boy was saved
the mechanism misbehaved
The bomb refused to detonate
A martyr’s death was not his fate.
The boy had been prepared to die
But now began to question why.
Allah refused his sacrifice.
Denied the promised paradise
Now honest clerics must explain
and re-interpret once again
The lessons which had been mistaught.
By priests who knowingly distort.
The laws laid down the in the Koran
to be observed by every man
which wicked men choose to defy.
Though they will answer when the die.
To Allah the compassionate
The burning lakes of fire wait
Though they repent it is too late
Their wickedness has sealed their fate.
The foolish boys they led astray
sure to be judged a different way.
By Allah the all merciful
The ways of god are wonderful.
26/06/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Preview for New Friend Amy
I had an imaginary friend.
Although she seemed quite real to me.
Someone on whom I could depend
always and absolutely.
As I grew up and made real friends
She faded out quite gradually
I must suppose as childhood ends
so does our youthful fantasy
I kept her picture in mind.
Albeit quite unconsciously
When in due course I tried to find
the ideal girl to marry me.
I found my child hood friend again.
No longer imaginary,
and I began to wonder then
if she too had imagined me.
Perhaps we were allowed to see
When in our childish innocence
what in the future was to be.
It seemed to us to make good sense.
We wed and raised a family
I still love her and she loves me.
We live together happily.
And on this subject we agree.
It was intended we should wed
as we would do eventually.
We were allowed to see ahead
as children do with clarity.
Before they’re taught it cannot be
by adults who have forgotten how
very clearly younger children see.
Because they only see the now..
The future is a mystery
that adults cannot penetrate.
Though children can quite easily
Perceive what is to be their future fate.
At least we two believe it’s true
Though other folk may disagree
What you believe is up to you
We may be wrong quite possibly.
14-Jan-09
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Kismet 2009
A man cannot escape his fate.
He must fulfil his destiny.
A peasant or a potentate
what is decreed will come to be.
His future is decided by
the three weird sisters who still weave.
Their multi coloured tapestry.
It matter not what you believe.
Each thread that represents a man.
Their nimble fingers intertwine.
They do not work to any plan
Completely random in design.
For they are blind and cannot see
the chaos they have caused to be.
They too are ruled by destiny.
they cannot change: No more can we.
15/06/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Hooked.
I’m sure, deprived of poetry
descent into insanity
would follow.Inevitably
It is my prime necessity
Poetry is my drug of choice.
Without it I would have no voice
either to lament or rejoice.
For I depend on poetry
to validate that I am me.
I am addicted hopelessly.
Wednesday,23 December 2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Naani for Subarraman N.V.
War will persist
as long as men exist.
Men have the will and skill to kill.
They always had and always will.
Peace apparently
an impossibility.
Men expect hostility
Universally.
Why should this be?
It seems to me
we were meant to live peacefully.
In perfect amity.
6-May-08
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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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Learning New Skills: something a little different
I smell the rancid stench of fear.
Although you sense that I am near.
You give no credibility
to anything which you can’t see.
You don’t believe in ghosts as such
And yet you’re conscious of my touch.
But you refuse to listen to
the inner voice that’s telling you
There are some things you can’t explain.
Some hidden aspect of your brain.
Which knows a great deal more than you
are prepared to believe is true.
You are aware your terrified
of something but you can’t decide.
If it is fact or fantasy.
Should you fight or should you flee.
I can’t do what I used to do.
All I can do is frighten you
I cannot harm you physically.
That pleasure is forbidden me.
I feed upon the scent of fear
To satisfy my appetite.
Before I died I used to kill
And if I could I would still kill.
But I cannot I’m just a ghost
one of the great unnumbered host.
Who have to pay the penalty
for who and what they used to be.
A never ending punishment
For those who can’t or won’t repent.
As long as I can frighten you
I will continue making do.
A lesser thrill I must confess
But it feeds me none the less.
The taste of terror exquisite
It titillates my appetite
for cruelty. I am still proud to be
operating sadistically.
Inflicting mental cruelty.
A student of psychology.
Although you sense that I am near
You cannot understand your fear.
There’s very little you can do.
I am more powerful than you.
Though disembodied I exist
as tenuous as morning mist.
And while I do your fears persist.
You need to find an exorcist.
30/08/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Their evensong; my pleasure for friend Thad
I sit outside the monastery
and pass an hour pleasantly
Listening to the brothers chant
I find their plain song elegant.
I wonder why, it puzzles me
Why do some men voluntarily
decide upon monastic life.
Are they afraid of worldly strife.
It seems to me that they retreat
from normal life; admit defeat.
I’m sure they see it differently
To me it is a mystery.
What can they possibly achieve.
This question really baffles me.
I must suppose that they believe.
It’s pleasing to their deity.
But I am not a Christian
I have my own philosophy.
More suited to a simple man.
Which is all I claim to be.
They have a choice they can decide
to worship God in their own way.
I am content to sit outside
I do not have the right to say.
What they should do or should not do.
My own motto is tolerance
that’s why I come to listen to
the plain song. which my ears entrance.
When night falls and all is still.
The final notes have died away.
I exercise my own free will
and rise to make my homeward way.
My God does not expect me to
stick to a rigid discipline.
The way the brothers have to do.
To pray or not the choice is mine.
14/07/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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It could be for C.P Sharma
We search for truth but would we know
if our quest met with success
Perhaps truth changes as we grow.
We can’t be sure so we must guess.
Maybe there is no absolute
unchanging truth that’s permanent.
So we adopt beliefs to suit
whatever seems convenient
That’s fits in with what we think we know.
Because we fail to recognise
What we’ve been taught my not be so.
Though in due course we realise.
The quest fir truth which we pursue
would seem to be man’s destiny.
Its something we were born to do.
To search for truth continually
Although it seems illogical
I offer you this theory
The truth is something personal.
My truth only applies to me.
Your truth is only true for you.
It’s just another theory
I have no way to prove it true.
although it could be possibly.
26/04/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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