Yet more Ogdenashicals. just for fun
Ermintrude the echidna
lost her diamond tiara.
Her husband trying to be kind
softly whispered never mind
It never suited your behind.
Coromandel crocodile
whilst swimming in the River Nile
Yawned and swallowed a canoe.
his mother cried this will not do
You make me so ashamed of you.
Caroline the kinkajou
liked a glass of wine or two
Which made her act indecently
so that very frequently
She was confined for her own safety.
Sebastian a young male skunk
was a most aggressive drunk.
Until he met his waterloo
and picked upon a kangaroo.
Who showed him what a roo can do.
Gustavus gorilla thumped his chest
to show the world he was the best
When a stray hunter with a gun
shot Gustavus just for fun
I do not think he should have done.
An octopus can count to eight
the number of his tentacles
I’m sure you will appreciate
it’s one of natur’s miracles
At least I think so more or less.
We rattle snakes are dangerous
but only if you anger us.
We aren’t aggressive naturally
We much prefer to lie quietly
and will do if you leave us be.
17/10/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Related quotes
Godfrey Gordon Gustavus Gore
Godfrey Gordon Gustavus Gore —
No doubt you have heard the name before —
Was a boy who never would shut a door!
The wind might whistle, the wind might roar,
And teeth be aching and throats be sore,
But still he never would shut the door.
His father would beg, his mother implore,
'Godfrey Gordon Gustavus Gore,
We really do wish you would shut the door!'
Their hands they wrung, their hair they tore;
But Godfrey Gordon Gustavus Gore
Was deaf as the buoy out at the Nore.
When he walked forth the folks would roar,
'Godfrey Gordon Gustavus Gore,
Why don't you think to shut the door?'
They rigged up a Shutter with sail and oar,
And threatened to pack off Gustavus Gore
On a voyage of penance to Singapore.
But he begged for mercy and said, 'No more!
Pray do not send me to Singapore
On a Shutter, and then I will shut the door!'
'You will?' said his parents; 'then keep on shore!
But mind you do! For the plague is sore
Of a fellow that never will shut the door,
Godfrey Gordon Gustavus Gore!'
poem by William Brighty Rands
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Time to be,
Steal away quietly meditate
You can spare time enough. For a while
silently hide away. Contemplate
who you are, what you are thoroughly.
You may find peace of mind, leave behind
the pressures and distress easily.
All you need to succeed is concede.
You can fly if you try earnestly.
You will see, you can be really free.
12/07/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Meditating meditation for M lady Ernestine
Ignore the fleeting thoughts which pass
across the surface of your mind
Reflections in a looking glass
which leave nothing solid behind.
They briefly show then fade away
Like shooting stars across the sky.
Of no importance any way.
Not worth the time it takes to try.
To understand what they might mean.
If they’re important they will slow
their pace so that they can be seen
as something which you need to know.
Command your mind to concentrate
and pay attention to one thought.
Be single minded contemplate.
Is this the truth which you have sought.
Reducing the complexity
of half formed thoughts which multiply
to simple singularity.
Grows easier each time you try.
If you achieve an empty mind
completely undistracted by,
Stray random thoughts of any kind.
Experience epiphany.
For one brief moment understand.
We are all small parts of just one whole.
Then you will know you can’t command
the forward movement of your soul.
The quest you are engaged upon
is something which we all must do.
Accept this fact and carry on
How long it takes is up to you.
03/06/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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The River Knows
Englyn unodle crwca
Quietly the river flows
never telling all it knows.
Has no reason I suppose and no voice.
We rejoice it does.
Whilst the river holds its peace.
We need not fear it might release,
From its store of memories: Dark secrets.
It forgets and heeds our pleas.
Secrets which we wish to hide.
We can cast our cares aside.
The wise river will decide, not to tell.
suits us well, all denied
Sins we now view with regret
.Sins we would we could forget
The river will keep secret for ever
and never cause upset.
Tuesday,09 February 2010
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Familiarity For M'lady Ann
The river as it flows on by.
Softly sings us a lullaby
Our cottage built of weathered stone
sits by the riverside alone.
Here where we raised our family
we are still living happily
Al though the family have flown
and now have children of their own.
The house was here before we wed
and will be here when we are dead
But until then we’re satisfied
to live beside the riverside
and listen to the lullaby
the river sings as it flows by.
22/04/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Unwritten for C.P.Sharma
I bought a new anthology
of poems from the First World War.
I offer no apology
The poetry filled me with awe.
To understand that tragedy
could inspire young poets to write.
Poetry of such great beauty.
To read it is a sacred rite.
I have a strange affinity
with young men cut down in their prime
Who made their mark on history
describing hell in metered rhyme.
I am forced to wonder what
they might have written but could not.
18/05/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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A true measure for J.T, Ellison
The measure of a life is not
the length of time from birth to death.
Nor the possessions you have got
or what you say with your last breath
But what you did whilst you were here.
The joy and happiness you shared
with those you loved and held most dear.
With total strangers if you dared.
If all your kind deeds can outweigh
the things you did which you regret.
As through the world you made your way,
and folks are willing to forget.
Your little foibles faults and flaws
because you did more good than harm.
As you tried to steer your course
through the rough waters to the calm.
Your worth is only measured by
The memories you leave behind.
this is a truth I can’t deny.
To which I have become resigned.
26-May-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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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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There's nothing There! ! for M lady Ernestine
She rules the roost behind the scenes.
Although her husband wears the jeans.
She lets him show he is the boss
but there are lines he dare not cross.
For all his manly macho show
she knows it’s only bravado.
More importantly so does he
which he accepts apparently.
He knows quite well who’s in control
but still he plays his public role.
She treats him deferentially
whilst there’s an audience to see.
Like any man who’s seen the light.
He knows that she is always right.
Her slightest wish is his command
which isn’t hard to understand.
He’s not the tough guy he appears
She has been training him for years.
He knows: She knows, he knows she knows
His public image is a pose.
1-Jun-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Of course sweetheart for M lady Tara
She rules the roost behind the scenes.
Although her husband wears the jeans.
She lets him show he is the boss
but there are lines he dare not cross.
For all his manly macho show
she knows it’s only bravado.
More importantly so does he
which he accepts apparently.
He knows quite well who’s in control
but still he plays his public role.
She treats him deferentially
whilst there’s an audience to see.
Like any man who’s seen the light.
He knows that she is always right.
Her slightest wish is his command
which isn’t hard to understand.
He’s not the tough guy he appears
She has been training him for years.
He knows: She knows, he knows she knows
His public image is a pose.
1-Jun-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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A Sobering Tale.
Sometimes he sits, sometimes he thinks.
At other times combines the two
More frequently he sits and drinks.
Because he cannot bear the view.
The only view that he can see
through pain filled eyes awash with tears.
He can remember vividly.
The promise of his early years.
When he was young and full of hope.
He had the whole world by the tail
But later found he could not cope,
although he tried to no avail.
Discovering that a drink or two
helped to alleviate the stress
A sorry story nothing new
His life became a complete mess.
He lost his job it had to come.
His drinking led to a divorce.
His wife then claimed the family home.
His life sped on it’s downwards course.
A friend became his enemy
because he let it take control.
It took him over completely.
Dependent now on alcohol.
No longer does he drink from choice
That luxury is now denied.
He drinks to still the nagging voice
which urges him to suicide.
Today he’s just a drunken bum
with nothing to look forward to.
Bar cheap red wine to make him numb
albeit temporarily.
Sometimes he sits, sometimes he thinks
sometimes he can combine the two.
More often though he sits and drinks
There’s nothing he would rather do.
10/10/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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I was wrong: So what. todays idiocy
I say that it’s impossible.
You cannot eat soup with chop sticks
Though it is highly probable.
Someone will try to prove he can.
To demonstrate his cleverness
and show he is a better man.
What will it prove should he succeed?
That I’m mistaken in my view.
I will be happy to concede
.
the victory to some buffoon.
Who can eat soup using chop sticks.
I still prefer to use a spoon.
I think soup should be eaten hot
I do not like cold soup a lot.
20/06/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Future Imperfect for friend Ben
The world today is in a dreadful mess.
No one accepts responsibility.
It seems that truth and honour matter less
than expedience apparently.
The only thing we value is success
although it’s been achieved dishonestly
The values which our forbears knew are lost
and everyone of us will bear the cost.
Ottavo Rima
23/08/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Who trains Who? for friend Bob
My human thinks he’s training me.
A fault that’s common to the breed
Though he is learning gradually
So I pretend to let him lead.
It is great fun to see him try
to understand each new command
Although sometimes I wonder why
he is so slow to understand.
I haven’t had him very long
I must remember he’s a man
To try and rush him would be wrong.
I ‘m sure he does the best he can.
I take him for a walk each day
make sure he gets his exercise
I need to teach him not to stray.
He doesn’t seem to realise.
That I’m in charge he’s rather slow
but then of course he’s just a man
You can’t expect a man to know
as much as any canine can.
26/04/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Insanity Rules
Slip loose the moorings of your mind.
Freely embrace insanity
it’s freedom of a different kind
from mere eccentricity.
Once you have been certified
they don’t expect normality
You basic needs will be supplied
accommodation is rent free.
No need to rise unless you choose.
You have no need to earn your keep.
No knotty problems to confuse
your mind, which might disturb your sleep..
So why not choose to be insane.
You will lose less than you can gain.
01/05/2009 http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Thinking Deeply.
I find these days quite frequently.
I slip into a semi trance.
When meditating quietly
on fate and changing circumstance.
I close my eyes to contemplate
Which seems quite sensible to me.
It leaves me free to concentrate
On what I think not what I see.
Of course my wife accuse me
of napping when I’m in a trance
But she does enjoy teasing me.
A little when she gets the chance.
I can’t deny it’s possible
I dropp off when I’m comfortable.
But I do not believe I do.
Although my wife insists it’s true.
Wednesday,03 November 2010
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Thinking for Friend Sid
The lightning flashed, the thunder roared.
Combined in mad cacophony
The suddenly peace is restored.
The clouds disperse the moon shines through
and the stars are visible gain.
Pinpoints of light against the blue.
Far distant stars that we can see.
Each one of them a burning sun.
I sit and wonder quietly.
Do they perhaps have planets too
in orbit round the mother star.
I think that it might well be true.
It seems to me that it must be
at least a possibility.
That we will learn eventually.
We aren’t alone we never were.
That there are other races too
that live and thrive somewhere out there.
Perhaps they sit and wonder too
and see our sun another star
a mere pinpoint against the blue.
23-Oct-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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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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Wishful Thinking.
.
The old year’s coming to its end.
Few will be sad to see it go.
We greet the New Year as a friend
We live in hope but cannot know.
If the New Year will prove to be.
A year in which we can achieve.
Our cherished dreams successfully.
Though some have doubts most can believe.
Despite their past experience
of disappointments they have known
They set aside their common sense
and are sustained by faith alone.
It seems we all prefer to see.
The New Year optimistically.
Saturday,26 December 2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Maturely Considered Opinion
.
Approaching his centenary.
The old man did not seem to be
at all concerned apparently.
About the fact that he was old.
Still a player in life’s game
He took each day just as it came
and treated every day the same.
He did not feel that he was old.
Though he had reached a ripe old age
Much greater then the average
He did not see that he should rage
against the fact that he was old
He saw no reason to complain
he’d rather not be young again.
07/07/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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