Unwanted Nocturne
When day is done and twilight falls
I hear the Tomcats caterwauls.
The noise they make is quite obscene.
They vie for favours of the queen.
Who’s quite content to see them fight.
She will choose as is her right
The tom cat with whom she will mate.
I really don’t appreciate
The dreadful noises that they make.
I only wish that they would take.
Their courting to a new venue
I fear that they will force me to
react with undue violence.
I am entitled to silence.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Beneath the surface 09
I choose my friends instinctively.
Signals received unconsciously
decide compatability
I am convinced accurately.
I trust my hunches completely
I find they work efficiently
and so I listen carefully
To what my guts are telling me
I understand obviously
I could be wrong quite possibly
It makes no difference to me.
It suits me to believe you see.
I do not have to make a choice
I leave that to my inner voice.
27-Jan-09
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Compensation
September sings of summer sun.
Whilst trying on her autumn dress
Recalling happy days of fun
but recognising none the less.
This is her final chance to show
what she can do to demonstrate
a range of shades which simply glow.
It’s her attempt to compensate
for the winters coming snow.
When she discards her finery
stripped by the cruel winds which blow
The trees will then stand nakedly.
Black silhouettes against the sky
sheer beauty to an artist’s eye.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Too Busy
To say I’m old is true today
but you will never hear me say.
I have done all that I can do
each day I attempt something new.
I won’t sit back and vegetate
because I still appreciate.
There are still things I have not tried
some wishes still unsatisfied.
I will not live vicariously
a life that’s centred on T.V.
I will not take to my arm chair.
I haven’t got the time to spare.
I’m far too busy being me
still trying new things eagerly.
9-Mar-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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One of the crowd
Beware of mediocrities.
They suffer from a strange disease.
They’re terrified some one may see
That they are not as ordinary.
as they would really like to be.
Though you may see them differently.
They do not know that they’re unique.
Just blending in is what they seek.
They have no personality
and they don’t really want to be
singled out- In any way
earnestly each day they pray.
Oh Lord don’t make me different
I’m nobody but I’m content.
13-Dec-07
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Freeway Diners
In sombre black from head to toes.
There are few birds as smart as crows
both in the manner of their dress
and in their native cleverness.
They seize each opportunity
to gain advantage easily.
Patrol the motorways at will
and daily dine on fresh roadkill.
The need not struggle to survive
as long as human beings drive.
The crows are wise enough to know
exactly when and where to go
to satisfy their appetites.
They have their choice of tasty bites.
6-Apr-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Outpost of Empire for Friend Thad
It’s clear that archaeology.
Can tell us of the history
of long forgotten Roman forts.
From evidence of many sorts.
Broken shards of Samian Ware.
Which turn up almost everywhere
can tell within a year or two
the date when they were brought here new.
Foundation walls that still remain
when deciphered make it plain.
That this was a most important site.
Our findings greeted with delight.
Vinovia a Roman fort
is much, much older than was thought.
13-Jan-08
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Wedlock For MY Lady Irene
Thou art my love, I worship thee.
I have the right to call thee wife,
I am enamoured completely,
thou art the star that guides my life.
Though other men may envy me
I do not fear their jealous eyes
For I have placed my trust in thee
thou art not only fair but wise.
I trust thee as thou trusteth me.
Who heaven hath joined let no man part
We are as we were meant to be
Conjoined directly heart to heart
and where thou art there I will be
together for eternity.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Tabula Rasa.
Rondel Prime.
A pristine page of purest white.
A challenge that I can't resist.
Although I try my muse insists.
I take my pen and start to write.
I quickly find to my delight
My muse is ready to assist.
A pristine page of purest white.
A challenge that I can't resist.
An empty page a welcome sight
To a poetic formalist
Or even to a modernist.
To anyone compelled to write.
A pristine page of purest white.
A challenge that I can't resist.
Sunday,14 October 2012.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Power to the people for M 'lady Ernestine
In single file the pylons stride
across the open countryside.
They bear their burden easily
providing electricity.
Those thin black lines against the sky
may not be easy on the eye
But we have grown accustomed to
man made intrusions on the view.
Demand for power overrides
the views of the opposing sides
The pylons are unfortunately
an absolute necessity
Which we accept reluctantly
we all need electricity.
26/04/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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