Barely bearable
I find the winter hard to bear.
A fact that must clearly state.
I wish I had been born a bear
and had the sense to hibernate
I do not like the damp and cold
nor do I like the snow and ice
and it gets worse as I grow old.
I often think it would be nice.
To be a hairy grizzly bear
and sleep from autumn until spring.
Kept snug and warm by my thick hair,
no need to wake for anything.
But sadly I am not a bear
I need my thermal underwear.
1-Jan-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Smoke if you wish
I love the banter and the flow
of witticisms to and fro.
When friends foregather for a while
to raise a glass or two and smile.
The group may be a motley crew
but all good friends both old and new.
Who really can participate
in some good humoured deep debate.
Although the subject’s serious
the comments can be humorous
They say that life’s too short to be
taken completely seriously.
We re not politically correct.
Nor ever will be I suspect.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Light and Movement
The sky is blue bright sunshine shows
the changing colours of the trees.
Which ripple in the playful breeze
A changing tapestry that glows
with autumn colours which compose,
contrasts and subtle harmonies
An artist palette sure to please
the eye of anyone who knows.
That they are free to look their fill
on Mother Natures artistry.
A still life which is never still
but always moving fluidly.
Obedient to the artists will
eschewing mediocrity.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Time out
I meditate as yogins do.
Just let the passing thoughts flow through
like fishes in a crystal stream
As tenuous as puffs of steam
I am aware what’s going on
But need not pay close attention.
Subconsciously I am alert
ready to counter any hurt
I reach the stillness which I seek
a peaceful place which is unique.
Where I recharge my batteries
in a short while with greatest ease.
Then I return to face the day
renewed and ready for the fray.
20-Jan-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Accidental Choreography for M' lady Tara
I do not think I’ll ever see
Such superb choreography
as that my cat displayed to me
when she was bitten by a flea.
The wretched insect made her prance
She did an entrechat by chance
it seems that painful bites enhance
a cat’s ability to dance.
I think she thought I was insane.
I tried my hardest to explain.
I was not smiling at her pain
but my attempts were all in vain.
I do not think she will forgive me
my seeming lack of sympathy.
10-Feb-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Impossibility
I met an average man today.
Average in every way
He was not nor was he lean
but in the middle in between.
Hw was not tall he was not short
but medium height I must report
His hair was neither dark nor light.
His mode of dress exactly right.
A statisticians dream come true.
The man that they all refer to.
hen they compile the lists they prize
at best half truths but mainly lies.
Statistically he cant exist
One sample not enough to list.
17-Feb-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Obsession for M lady Allison
An artist doesn’t have much choice.
He’s driven to pursue his dream
by a compulsive inner voice.
His dedication is extreme.
Whatever form his talent takes.
He strives to make his work perfect
Regretting bitterly mistakes.
His muse refuses to accept
that he has done the best he could.
She says the best is yet to be.
He listens to her as he should
he has no choice but to agree.
His inner voice will drive him on
in pursuit of perfection.
5-Apr-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Frosted Glass
Frost flowers on my windowpane.
Jack Frost has visited again.
I always know when he's been here.
Because pretty patterns appear
As if by magic overnight.
A tracery of sparkling white.
A sight that sure to satisfy.
The most discerning artist's eye.
It's beautiful though transient.
Frost paintings can't be permanent.
It will last for an hour or two.
Before it melts as it's sure to.
Frost flowers bloom beneath the moon.
‘til morning comes alas too soon.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Changing Times
Perverse and foolish, discontent.
Naïve but far from innocent
the bored young people of today
undisciplined in any way.
Seeking always new sensations
which might cure their chronic boredom.
Stirring up passing emotions.
Pursuing gluttony and whoredom.
The wheel of fate will slowly turn
repeating ancient history.
An age of discipline return
Curtailing excess liberty
Men swing between the two extremes
and always have done so it seems.
3-Mar-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Do You Know?
A blue ball bouncing merrily
arrives upon a motorway.
A recipe for tragedy
when children carelessly at play.
Follow the ball on flying feet
then with an accident they meet.
The distraught driver’s not to blame
but he feels guilty just the same.
Do you know where your children play?
Do you know where they are today?
It’s your responsibility
to supervise them properly.
I must confess that I did not
now memories are all I’ve got.
20-Feb-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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