ivor or ivor.e hogg Poems

We die a little every day.
Commencing with our first drawn breath.
It's what we learn along the way.
Prepares us to accept that Death.
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When overcome by black despair you can’t find beauty anywhere.
There is no point in finding fault; it is past time to call a halt.
I find that when I’m feeling blue. It helps to change my point of view. Why it that the world seems grey, nothing is has changed since yesterday.
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Quiescent now for many years.
I never thought to feel again.
The hunting instinct which now stirs.
An urge I must try to restrain.
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She trusted and she was betrayed
At least according to the maid.
She swore that she was innocent
and unaware of my intent.
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Least said soonest mended.

In the anger of the moment.
We react instinctively
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Musing on mortality.

Though we all start on equal terms
Your life experience will affirm.
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A prude regards all nudes as rude
unchanging in their attitude.
Which they perceive as rectitude.
A sign of their ineptitude
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The sonnet form is capable
of being very flexible
It can be used to air your views
on almost anything at all.
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I feel a hand touching my hair but when I look there’s no one there.
And then I settle down to rest again I felt my hair caressed.
I’ve no idea what it might be. It seems to mean no harm to me.
I’m wide awake I m not dreaming. The gentle moonlight softly beaming
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I’m not the man I used to be
In fact I’ve changed considerably.
Sixteen stone my fighting weight.
I really don’t appreciate.
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