Whiners and Losers
A man who can achieve his dream.
Because he’s willing to work hard
is worthy of our high esteem.
Success his well earned reward.
Yet some are jealous it would seem
and his hard work they disregard.
Because they will not recognise
success comes to the man who tries.
poem by Ivor .e Hogg
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Pibroch Dhu For Jim Hogg
The piper plays his sad lament
Alone upon the bleak hillside.
A bitter hymn of discontent
recalling those who bravely died.
A living breathing testament
to regimented homicide.
The piper plays his sad lament
alone upon the bleak hillside.
This world is not as it was meant
The ten commandments are defied
as warfare rages far and wide.
As in the past and the present.
The piper plays his sad lament.
poem by Ivor .e Hogg
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First things first for my friend Ben
The moon is shining on the lake
where trout are rising after flies
this tells me that it’s time to fish.
The gentle art of casting flies
correctly as my father taught,
has filled full many a supper dish
A trout that’s fried in bacon grease
Has a unique taste all its own,
If I were hungry I would wish.
For a fresh trout upon my plate
A feast I would appreciate.
But first you have to catch your fish.
28-May-07
poem by Ivor .e Hogg
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Altered Perception
My drug of choice is poetry.
I need no chemicals to fly.
Imagination is the key
which leads me into fantasy.
I have no need to break the laws
because I choose a different course.
I can get high on poetry.
A pleasure that’s completely free.
Why use adulterated drugs
and join the ranks of ripped off mugs.
Why should you spend your hard earned brass?
on coke or horse or even grass.
When all you need is poetry
to set your restless spirit free.
Rise to the sky on wings of words
and emulate the flight of birds.
Who recognise no boundaries
they’re free to fly just where they please.
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poem by Ivor .e Hogg
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Tonic
Bright sunshine on a winter’s day
is caught and held by naked trees.
Where light and shadow interplay,
like memories which fade away.
As quickly passing years erase
the glory of our younger days.
In youthful years of innocence.
Bright sunshine on a winter’s day,
dispensed by kindly providence.
Softened the sombre shades of grey
with subtle hints and shades of gold
Our winter weary eyes behold.
As we grow up and make our way
from childhood to maturity.
Bright sunshine on a winter’s day
still offers us the surety.
That winter is not permanent
in course of time it must relent.
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poem by Ivor .e Hogg
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Always for My Wife
The moonglow on the apple tree
silvers the blossoms I can see
and turns it into fragile lace.
A simile I can trace
back to the day you married me.
Resplendent in your modest,
the dainty veil which hid your face
could not conceal your innate grace.
Nor yet the mischief in your smile,
demurely walking down the aisle
up to the altar where I stood
waiting as a bridegroom should.
Such is the spell the moon can cast
reviving memories from the past.
To me you’re like the apple tree
mature; still beautiful to see.
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poem by Ivor .e Hogg
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