But I don't want to for M lady Ernestine
I wander freely mentally.
Enraptured by the things I see
within my worlds of fantasy.
I just reject reality
where nothing ever works for me.
Quite certain I would rather be
divorced from harsh reality
There is no comfort here for me
and live in my own fantasy.
A dream which cannot possibly
be realised apparently
Reluctantly I must agree.
That I am where I’m meant to be.
You can’t escape reality
and learn to act responsibly.
[...] Read more
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Thunder Thursday
The Sun breaks through the overcast.
The rain has ceased to fall at last.
The ground below is soaking wet.
The streams and rivers overflow.
A summer I will not forget.
The violent thunderstorms widespread
With rain falling torrentially.
Forked lightning flashing overhead.
Flooding homes and property.
The rain falling persistently.
The drainage systems cannot cope.
They simply lack capacity.
The rising waters envelope
All in their path remorselessly.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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For Pity's Sakes
Oft in the stilly night, I wake
for no reason apparently.
Then I recall each past mistake
that I have made regretfully.
A self inflicted punishment
for wrongful deeds which I recall
Some hurt I caused without intent.
The guilt I felt still lingers yet.
I fall asleep eventually
my guilty conscience satisfied.
Allows me to sleep peacefully.
My past misdeeds are set aside.
I can’t deny I made mistakes
so do we all for pity’s sakes.
11-Jan-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Just look for M' Lady Ernestine
The Daffodils in massed array
their yellow trumpets on display
are flaunting beauty shamelessly
. They see no need for modesty.
Their growing season all too brief.
‘Till time the ever present thief.
Robs them of their vitality
a crime of opportunity.
The early springtime beauty show
of yellow blooms which freely grow
along the verge of every road.
Natural beauty a la mode.
Some pass them by unseeingly.
For them I have no sympathy.
2-Apr-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Whatshisname
An actor always plays a part.
He has no personality.
It is the essence of his art
an actor’s capability
To become anyone at all.
Whoever they’re supposed to be
at least until the curtains fall
Revert to being nobody.
Their whole life is a fantasy.
They don’t know who they really are.
They can cope with reality
but only so much: Insofar
as I can see, because they can
act like any other man.
12/07/2009
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Disillusionment
I was so trustingly naïve.
Too young and foolish to believe.
That though she promised paradise
all of her promises were lies.
I was in love and could not see
that she was merely using me
To her I was a stripling boy
the merest plaything just a toy.
A lesson all green youths must learn
it comes to each of us in turn.
The angel which we think we see
is not as she appears to be.
She’s merely out to have a fling,
to her you do not mean a thing.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Dollars and sense
Financially the world’s a mess.
The reason why not hard to guess.
A credit based economy
will always lack stability.
Advancing cash too easily
may rapidly increase your take
but in the end it’s a mistake.
A nightmare from which you cannot wake,
leading to sorrow and heartache.
For people who have overspent
money far too easily lent
by bankers who had one intent.
To profit from your borrowing.
My final comment cash is king.
23-Apr-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Rose tinted recollections
I would that those who wish might go
back to their childhood innocence
but I am wise enough to know.
That looking back makes little sense.
The memories you cherish now
are merely vignettes which express
the happy times: Hiding below
are recollections you suppress.
The things you don’t want to recall.
The times of abject misery.
If you went back you’d face them all
Each long forgotten memory.
Given the opportunity
I could refuse quite easily.
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Feet of Clay.
Byronic sonnet.
Lord Byron loved the ladies well.
Too many and too frequently.
A somewhat chequered history.
According to the tales they tell.
Aristocratic ladies fell
so easily beneath his spell.
Surrendered their virginity.
Their curiosity to quell.
A serial philanderer.
He pursued many love affairs.
A faithless selfish wanderer.
It seems to day nobody cares.
Because the public much prefer
To ignore truths too hard to bear.
Sunday,26 August 2012
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Prima Ballerina for M lady Ernestine
I was enchanted by her grace.
The way she moved so fluidly.
A member of the human race?
It seemed to me she could not be.
Yet there she was before my eyes.
A ballerina in her prime,
who has the power to hypnotise
To look away would be a crime.
This was her farewell performance.
She seemed to defy gravity.
I’ll never have another chance.
It was as if she danced for me.
It was the same for everyone.
She danced for them and them alone.
7-Nov-07
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