Unsung Heroes

The land laid waste and desolate.
Opposing armies came and went,
that neither thought to contemplate
the end result is evident.

There’ll be no harvest here to reap
There’s no one left to till the land.
Beneath the soil the farmers sleep.
The warriors failed to understand

In war there is no victory.
The winners and the losers fail
to learn from all past history.
That warriors die to no avail

The real heroes are men of peace.
The farmers and the labourers
the men who toil without surcease
to feed themselves and their neighbours.

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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Hourglass

The sand flows through, marks grain by rain
the minutes which won’t come again.
Moments of pain, moments of pleasure.
They record with equal measure.
They mark them with a steady flow
the sand above drips down below.
Then when the final grain has dropped
It does not mean that time has stopped.
It’s time to turn the hour glass
so that the grains may freely pass.
From up above again below.
Time will not stop if they don’t flow.
But if it did how would you know
without the sand to tell you so.

8-Oct-08

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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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September afternoon for M lady Ernestine.

September sun spasmodically
breaks through the clouds which threaten rain.
Sometimes the clouds triumphantly
block out the sunshine once again.
I watch and wait expectantly
to see the sun come smiling through
A little optimistically
I hope to see the sky turn blue.
The storm clouds try but can’t resist
a brisk wind blowing from the sea
They have no choice the wind persists
Although they move reluctantly.
The clouds are gone the sun shines on
and will do ‘til the day is done.

Wednesday,08 September 2010
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Forward planning

Bright autumn leaves like butterflies
are gaily dancing in the breeze.
Until they fall; no more to rise
and coat the ground beneath the trees.
In carpets of rich autumn hues
Which will soon fade to neutral brown.
The time has come for trees to lose
their leaves and cast them down.
As they prepare for winters rule.
Returning to the earth again
their useless leaves to use a fuel.
Which when spring comes will help sustain.
The sudden burst of energy
that is required by every tree.

Saturday,11 September 2010
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Unwelcome visitor

Begone sad ghost why dost thou bother me.
I knew thee not whilst living thou drew breath.
Nor do I wish to know thee after death.
Why dost thou visit me so frequently?
What is that thou hopest to gain from me?
Unlike the other dead who slumber peacefully.
Under the stone which they must lie beneath.
What wantest thou with me; I know thee not,
nor do I want thy ghostly company.
If once I knew thee I have forgot
Begone sad ghost thou dost not frighten me.
Go now there is no welcome here for thee.

9-Sep-08

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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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I am still me.

I’m not the man I used to be
When in the first bloom of my youth.
Who had abundant energy
I must accept the awful truth.

As I grow old I realise.
I’m not the man I used to be
I have no choice but recognise.
I must conserve my energy.

It’s for the best quite probably.
I have to think before I act.
I’m not the man I used to be.
I can’t deny that simple fact.

I can do what I need to do
Though I must plan it carefully.
I am quite sure you feel it too.
I’m not the man I used to be.

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Star bright.

.
Englyn Milwr

The day light hours quickly fled.
The sun sinks beneath the sea.
In the west the sky is red.

As the daylight fades away.
Indigo will flood the sky
Darkness marks the end of day.

Twilight lingers in between
It is neither night nor day
until the first star is seen

This bright star will signify.
That day is done its time to rest
Twinkling stars now rule the sky

The moonrise will light the night

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Legacy.

Legacy

Ghosts from the past, our ancestors.
Though long since dead are part of us.
WE must accept this truth of course.
Our forbears weren’t all glorious.
If you research your family tree
You’ll be surprised by what you find.
Most forbears were quite ordinary.
But some of them have left behind.
Abilities and qualities.
Which are passed down through their offspring
in varying quantities.
You can be sure of just one thing.
Today we are the latest batch
of evolutions mix and match.

Wednesday,29 December 2010
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Miseable existence.

Miserable existence.

I don’t admit to being old.
Nor will I put my life on hold.
As others think I ought to do.
I have a different point of view.

There’s so much that I want to do.
Each day I can find something new.
Something I have not done before.
It’s not a case of either or.

Let oher people vegetate
If they're prepared to sit and wait
in their arm chair and watch TV
Until they’re switched off finally.
When death decides to swing his scythe
and end their travesty of life.

Saturday,04 September 2010

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Junior houseman for friend Thad

Can’t find a pulse the young doc said.
I think that means that you are dead.
This goes against all common sense.
I blame his inexperience

I had to strongly remonstrate,
which he did not appreciate.
You have no pulse you must be dead.
That’s what my old professor said.

A nursing sister standing by
just shook her head and heaved a sigh.
I sent the young fool on his way.
That’s why I am still here today.

I had no pulse in my false arm
I saw no reason for alarm.
I know that in my other wrist
I have a pulse that can’t be missed.

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