ivor or ivor.e hogg Poems

My time grows short I'm getting old.
The years pass by so speedily
Each day is worth much more than gold.
I greet each morning thankfully
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Out of the night that covers me.
Black as the pit from pole to pole.
I thank whatever Gods there be.
For my unconquerable soul
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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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A sky layered in lavender,
old rose and streaks of gold that glow.
Against approaching indigo
as night accepts day’s surrender.
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</The Wilted Rose.

A wilted rose recalls to me.
A sad but cherished memory
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I wandered in an ancient maze.
Close clipped hedges on either side
and as I walked its narrow ways.
I had no choice but to decide.
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I have a family

My ancestry a mystery
I was abandoned as a child.
...