But that's different
The jester jests: He plays the role
we are conditioned to accept.
His sly insults though dry and droll
conceal much malice I suspect.
If he should chance to pick on you
as target for his vicious tongue
Then act as you’re expected to.
Just smile pretend to play along.
He seems to pick unerringly
On those who have something to hide.
Exposes secrets fleeringly
Though some would say he’s justified.
But when the jester picks on them
Adopt a different stratagem.
24-May-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Each to his Own for Friend Bob Blackwell
I dance before the Lord, My God.
Though other people find this odd.
They are entitled to their view.
I worship as I was taught to do.
The Christians sing hymns of praise
but mainly on their holy days
And Muslims pray six times a day
they worship God in their own way.
As for the Jews they have their views
a lengthy list of don’ts and dos.
Why can’t we learn to tolerate
each others views. Appreciate
there is one God omnipotent.
who understands each mans intent.
20-Aug-08
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And no bird sings fot new friend Mel
.
The breeze which rustles in the trees
assisted by the birds and bees
Whose interlacing melodies
produce pastoral symphonies
Which vary as the seasons change
and the musicians re-arrange
the notes to suit their vocal range.
I think it would be very strange
if suddenly there ceased to be.
The music which can set us free
from worries temporarily
and silence reigned; permanently.
The sound of silence echoing
instead of song birds carolling.
13/04/2007
Revised
18/04/2009
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Productive Chaos for M lady Tara
Ideas are swarming in my brain.
Each demanding to be heard
insisting time and time again
it is their turn.It’s quite absurd.
If they would learn to stand in line
instead of jostling for a place
Then everything would work out fine.
But as it is I cannot trace
which are the ones I should pursue.
Immortalise in flowing verse
and give to each attention due.
My situation could be worse
perhaps it’s unfair to complain
because I have a fertile mind
Far better than a tidy brain
where inspirations hard to find.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Minor Sins for M lady Lorraine
The shadow of an echo falls
upon deaf ears which listen not.
They fail to hear the distant calls
of memories they thought forgot.
The sinful acts they have repressed
and buried deep in memory.
Are in their disturbed sleep expressed.
Rise to remind them forcefully.
The night mares we perforce must ride
are merely our self punishment
We cannot from our conscience hide.
We must acknowledge and repent
those things we did unthinkingly
before we can sleep peacefully.
14-Nov-08
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All change for M lady Adria
Familiar landmarks disappear
gradually as darkness falls.
Though if you listen you can hear
the roosting birds exchanging calls.
From nests in tree you cannot see
though you’re aware that they’re still there
Enwrapped in night fall’s mystery.
There is no way you can compare
the quiet countryside at night
with the busy and bustling day.
All life moves faster in sunlight
until the sun sets anyway.
Darkness can make the world we see
into a realm of fantasy.
26-Jul-08
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Unbroken cycle. for M lady Ernestine
Englyn Prost Dalgron.
Seasons come and seasons go.
Summer sun or winter snow.
That is all we need to know.
Winter is replaced by spring.
Summer ripens everything.
Autumn will the harvest bring.
When the harvests gathered in
Safely stored in box and bin
Then the winter will begin.
Nature brooks no argument.
She carries out her intent.
With or without our consent.
Spring, Summer and Autumn too.
Each has its own job to do.
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Enough Already
I sometimes wish my muse would take
a holiday, A longish break.
She is convinced she has the right
to badger me by day and night.
There’s other things I want to do.
I love to write that is quite true
But household chores must still be done.
I’d like a little time for fun
A bit of time to paint and draw
I don’t have time to anymore’
I have some books I want to read
but constantly she fills my head
with poetry, she cannot see
Sometimes I need some time for me.
27/10/2009Http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Enough already.
I sometimes wish my muse would take
a holiday, A longish break.
She is convinced she has the right
to badger me by day and night.
There’s other things I want to do.
I love to write that is quite true
But household chores must still be done.
I’d like a little time for fun
A bit of time to paint and draw
I don’t have time to anymore’
I have some books I want to read
but constantly she fills my head
with poetry, she cannot see
Sometimes I need some time for me.
27/10/2009Http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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By example
A mother sings a lullaby
To let her baby know
that she is near no need to cry.
The babe is sleeping peacefully
In safety warm and dry
Still mother listens carefully.
As baby sleeps her mother rests.
Relaxed but vigilant,
the mother love which she invests.
Will in time pay rich dividends
at compound interest.
Mutual love which never ends.
The child becomes a woman grown.
A daughter and a friend
When she has children of her own.
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