The quiet man

A small dark man who stands alone.
He gives respect where it is due
but owes allegiance to none.
and he expects respect from you.

He has an air of confidence,
each move is made with fluid grace.
No one should doubt his competence.
A man who knows his rightful place.

Although he’s small he has no fear
he knows his own ability.
The warning signs are very clear
it is not wise to challenge me.

But if you do I’m sure he can
Show you who is the better man.

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Disappointed for M lady Ernestine

The Jackdaws are excitedly
feasting on the cast away
remains of someone’s takeaway.
Discarded by them thoughtlessly.
They’re squabbling vociferously
as they jostle for the best place
and very soon there is no trace
of the feast provided free.
The plastic tray is now quite clean,
then they fly off in search of more
It is as if the food had never been.
But one latecomer lone jackdaw
examines the now empty tray.
Squawks his disgust and flies away.

8-Jan-08

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Day Off

A placid pool unruffled by
the slightest breeze reflects the sky.
The sky a cerulean blue
takes on a slightly darker hue.
Sometimes a fluffy cloud or two
will slowly drift into my view.
I sit beneath a shady tree.
I am content to simply be
an observer of the scene
and draw comparisons between.
The peaceful pool and the clear sky.
Its not my place to wonder why.
I am relaxing happily
exactly where I want to be.

02/07/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Short term fixes create problems

A policy of slash and burn
may bring a small but quick return
but it’s the worst of strategies.
Thin soil denuded of its trees.
Cannot retain the falling rain
and soon becomes an arid plain
The soil dried out and blown away,
a man made desert here to stay
It seems man cannot understand
He’s just a steward of the land.
If nature can replace the trees
the process will take centuries.
Man has no choice but to move on
another swathe of forest gone.

26-Apr-08

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Bemused

I am relaxed and warm in bed,
the day is done its time for sleep.
Stray thoughts glide swiftly through my head
obediently like flocks of sheep.
But now and then a thought will be
held to be of interest
Recorded then subconsciously
reprocessed whilst I take my rest.
When I awake I can recall,
sometimes with startling clarity
Those words I did not write at all
and I inscribe them faithfully.
My muse was busy while I slept
I don’t complain I just accept.

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Patience

Each stalactite and stalagmite
is growing slowly dropp by drop.
Invisibly to human sight.
A process which will never stop.
When they meet eventually
They will form a column of stone
at which we gaze wonderingly.
Throughout long ages it has grown.
The wonders nature can produce
are greater than the works of man
Which in their pride mankind must choose
to understand as best they can.
The secrets Mother Nature knows
producing stone that slowly grows.

11-Mar-08

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Mighty mouse

A predator, the pygmy shrew?
It seems unlikely but it’s true.
To satisfy its appetite
this tiny scrap of dynamite
will tackle creatures twice its size.
They’re dead before they realise.
This little creature has to eat
twice its own body weight of meat.
On each and every single day.
the pygmy shrew’s no easy prey.
Some larger creatures find to their cost.
Make the attempt and find they’ve lost.
The pygmy shrew’s ferocity
means that he wins inevitably.

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Sentimental Value for M 'lady Tara

A crystal vase reflects sunlight
but splits it up prismatically
Into stray beams of colours bright
which demonstrate the artistry.
Which can lie locked in inert glass.
Though beautiful in its own right.
It is enhanced when sunbeams pass
through emerging as coloured light.
A whole spectrum of colours play
across the china cabinet
highlighting teasets on display
in such a way you can forget.
They are completely valueless
as dancing colours irridesce.

18-Apr-08

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Not Proven

They tell me I will go to hell.
Condemned for all eternity.
I don’t believe the tales they tell.
The being who created me
gave me a brain which I can use
to choose which pathway I should take
what I accept or I refuse.
The choice is mine alone to make
No man can tell me what to do
to save my soul: They do not know
what they believe may not be true.
They have no proof which they can show.
to convince me that they are correct...
They think I’m foolish I expect.

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Incapability

The sunset’s indescribable
but being me I have to try
to see if I am capable.
Although I see no reason why.

I think this time I might succeed.
I’ve tried so many times before
to explain how the colours bleed
into shades I have no name for.

I would love to share my view
but lack the vocabulary.
I cannot describe to you
the transient beauty that I see.

No matter how hard I may try
it’s an impossibility.

18/05/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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