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There are as many opinions as there are experts.

quote by Franklin D. Roosevelt
Added by Lucian Velea
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Opinions

Opinions friend, we all may have, and opinions are not always bad.
All opinions indeed carry no weight, in regards to one’s eternal fate.
Opinions, my friend often speak, to the heart and mind of the weak.
They tend to sway a weaker heart, when from truth they do depart.

Opinions vary from one to the next, colored by many various sects.
Various groups truly do abound, as each echoes a different sound.
Men with opinions tend to change, and they’re not always the same.
But, God’s Truth doesn’t change; written in stone it’ll forever remain.

Opinions just air what men feel, delivered to all with a personal zeal.
But some are more of an appeal, contesting God’s Truth that’s real.
Opinions are formed deep inside, the inner feelings moved by pride.
Their opinions are a vain reproof, of God’s unchanging Eternal Truth.

They speak, but don’t understand, their voices are like shifting sand.
Easily moved by the wind and tide; all because The Truth is denied.
Isn’t it just a little bit strange, how much strong opinions do change?
When a big wind comes through, they change just like emotions do.

Opinionated people truly abound, even where God’s Truth is found.
Are they just the enemy’s sleuth, seeking The Lord’s ultimate truth?
However, opinions will not stand, in the presence of The Son of Man.
There only The Truth will reside, and vain opinions will all be denied.

(Copyright ©01/2006)

poem by Bob Gotti
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Opinions From Them Sent

Don't let that flight in sight needed to catch,
Miss you wishing for a ride...
To clear your eyes from others tripping.
As you are kept mesmerized,
Within their grip.

Don't be afraid to tell some people quickly...
To stay out of of your business.
Since that business that you're in...
Does not accept opinions given.

Don't let that flight in sight needed to catch,
Miss you wishing for a ride...
To clear your eyes from others tripping.
As you are kept mesmerized,
Within their grip.

People always give them...
Those opinions from them sent.
People always give them...
Those opinions from them sent.
People always give them...
Those opinions from them sent.
And loving this they do...
To solicit arguments.

People are fuss-budgets,
Stirring up conflicts to vent.

People always give them,
Those opinions from them sent.
People always give them,
Those opinions from them sent.
People always give them,
Those opinions from them sent.
And loving this they do,
To solicit arguments.

Don't let that flight in sight needed to catch,
Miss you wishing for a ride...
To clear your eyes from others tripping.
People are fuss-budgets,
Stirring up conflicts to vent.

And...
People always give them,
Those opinions from them sent.
People always give them,
Those opinions from them sent.
People always give them,

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Everyone Have Their Opinions

Everyone have their opinions that's how it ought to be
And respect their opinions though with them you may not agree
As long as they respect human rights and a fair go for all
The difference between you and them to say the least is small.

Everyone have their opinions and no two quite the same
Even between those who are known to think alike some difference one can name
That's what makes us most interesting we all think differently
And you are very different so different to me.

Everyone have their own opinions a fact that is well known
And like 'tis said of him or her the words to each their own
To others opinions you should not react in a violent sort of a way
We must allow for difference and let them have their say.

Everyone have their opinions that fact with us remain
And as long with your opinions power over others you don't seek to gain
Though your opinions may be very different to mine
I respect your way of thinking and our difference suits me fine.

poem by Francis Duggan
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Freethinker for J.T.Ellison

Freethinker

I do believe that memory can be passed down genetically
Encoded in our D.N.A Although I know the experts say
My theory’s unsustainable, there is no proof obtainable.
For all their professed expertise. My theory causes them unease.
They are afraid I might be right. It could explain why men take fright.
When darkness falls and they can’t see, arousing repressed memories
Of long ago when men were prey which linger to the present day
Although the experts can’t explain the workings of the human brain.
The experts say it can’t be so: They know less than they think they know.
I don’t accept the experts view I see no reason I should do
I still believe that memory can be passed down genetically.
Encoded in our D.N.A. No matter what the experts say.
They cannot force me to agree for I think independently

31/05/2009
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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The piper plays his clans lament.Story poem

On cold grey days, a piper plays
his pibroch on the battlements.
Clad in the garb of bygone days.
He proudly plays his clans lament.

From down below he can be seen
but no one knows who he might be
A misty figure on the scene
Bewailing his clan’s history.

The swank young men who fought and died
in foreign wars far from their home
their sacrifice can’t be denied.
He bids their long dead spirits come.

Come back braw lads where ye belong
Ye have been far too long away.
He guides them home a mighty throng.
His bounden duty is to play.

Should you attempt to draw too near
all you will find is empty space.
The piper simply disappears.
No one has ever seen his face.

The locals know and understand
He too is dead another ghost
Who still obeys his last command
a phantom who sticks to his post.

A sight the tourists come to see
and vainly try to photograph.
of course they cannot possibly.
Their efforts make the locals laugh.

On certain days the piper plays
the tourists have to make their choice
Though most arrive on sunlit days
if he appears they will rejoice.

They have more chance on sad grey days
to see the piper through the mist.
the locals know the piper’s ways.
The legend cannot be dismissed.

The experts may explain away
the ghostly figure. which appears.
But can’t account in any way
for the lament which they can hear.

[...] Read more

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Opinion

Congratulations you have won
Its a years subscription of bad puns.
And it makes your story our concern
And you set it up for returns
My opinions. mmm. mmm. (x4)
And there seems to be a problem here.
Your state of emotion seems to clear.
You rise and fall like wall street stock
And you had an affect on our happy talk.
Our opinions. mmm. mmm. (x2)
My opinions. mmm. mmm. (x2)
Congratulations you have won
Its a years subscription of bad puns.
And it makes your story our concern
And you set it up for returns
Our opinions. mmm. mmm.
Your opinions. mmm. mmm. (x3)
My opinions. mmm. mmm.

song performed by Nirvana
Added by Lucian Velea
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Prejudice

IN yonder red-brick mansion, tight and square,
Just at the town's commencement, lives the mayor.
Some yards of shining gravel, fenced with box,
Lead to the painted portal--where one knocks :
There, in the left-hand parlour, all in state,
Sit he and she, on either side the grate.
But though their goods and chattels, sound and new,
Bespeak the owners very well to do,
His worship's wig and morning suit betray
Slight indications of an humbler day

That long, low shop, where still the name appears,
Some doors below, they kept for forty years :
And there, with various fortunes, smooth and rough,
They sold tobacco, coffee, tea, and snuff.
There labelled drawers display their spicy row--
Clove, mace, and nutmeg : from the ceiling low
Dangle long twelves and eights , and slender rush,
Mix'd with the varied forms of genus brush ;
Cask, firkin, bag, and barrel, crowd the floor,
And piles of country cheeses guard the door.
The frugal dames came in from far and near,
To buy their ounces and their quarterns here.
Hard was the toil, the profits slow to count,
And yet the mole-hill was at last a mount.
Those petty gains were hoarded day by day,
With little cost, for not a child had they ;
Till, long proceeding on the saving plan,
He found himself a warm, fore-handed man :
And being now arrived at life's decline,
Both he and she, they formed the bold design,
(Although it touched their prudence to the quick)
To turn their savings into stone and brick.
How many an ounce of tea and ounce of snuff,
There must have been consumed to make enough !

At length, with paint and paper, bright and gay,
The box was finished, and they went away.
But when their faces were no longer seen
Amongst the canisters of black and green ,
--Those well-known faces, all the country round--
'Twas said that had they levelled to the ground
The two old walnut trees before the door,
The customers would not have missed them more.
Now, like a pair of parrots in a cage,
They live, and civic honours crown their age :
Thrice, since the Whitsuntide they settled there,
Seven years ago, has he been chosen mayor ;
And now you'd scarcely know they were the same ;
Conscious he struts, of power, and wealth, and fame ;

[...] Read more

poem by Jane Taylor
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Like it or not, we have placed our destiny in the hands of the experts. A politician is, after all, a kind of expert, if self-styled. Even the fact that competent experts must serve under politicians of mediocre intelligence and little foresight is a problem that we are stuck with, because the experts themselves cannot agree on any major world issue. A logocracy of quarreling experts might be no better than the rule of the mediocrities to which we are subject. The declining intellectual quality of political leadership is the result of the growing complexity of the world. Since no one, be he endowed with the highest wisdom, can grasp it in its entirety, it is those who are least bothered by this who strive for power.

classic quote by Stanislaw Lem
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Please youreslf

I think that ladies should ignore
The dictates of the fashion trade
The doubtful claims of haute couture
by so called experts often made.

A wise lady will choose her clothes
to show her assets at their best.
Not as the expert all suppose
to look exactly like the rest.

Dress to suit your face and figure
There is no need to buy in haste
clothes which make your rivals snigger.
Have faith in your own good taste.

Women come in many shades
different shapes and different sizes.
Mature matrons and slim young maids.
Every one that some man prizes.

A well dressed women who stands out.
Knows full well what she’s about.
She won’t let the experts tell her
how to dress to please her feller.

Some women have good fashion sense
but many lack the confidence
to tell the experts to get lost.
They can dress well at half the cost.

Fashion labels may sell clothes
but only silly girls suppose.
Only the latest style will do.
When obviously it is not true.

Suit yourself in the way you dress.
Choose the clothes that will suit you
If you do you will impress
in the way you ought to do.

Let all the fashion gurus prate
But don’t believe a word they say.
You know that you will look great
when you dress in your own way

Fashions come and fashions go.
You know when you’re looking good
What do the so called experts know? .
Ignore them as you know you should.

[...] Read more

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Tough Love

Tough love

Rebecca was a horrid child.
Her antics drove her mother wild..
Child experts offered their advice
but seldom came to visit twice.

Although her mother tried her best
Rebecca outdid all the rest.
She was unpleasant rude and crude.
An anti social attitude.

She seldom did as she was told
and thought she had the right to scold.
Her mother’s efforts at control
She seemed to have no other goal.

Than making life a misery
for members of her family.
But then her grandma came to stay.
Rebecca came to rue the day.

Grandma applied psychology
Rebecca placed across her knee
She tanned her little bottom hard.
Grandma had but scant regard.

For what the experts had to say
She raised her kids in the old way.
A firm hand lovingly applied
across Rebecca’s small backside.

Quickly changed her attitude.
Because her Grandma understood.
That little girls should never be
allowed to think that they were free.

To act and speak unpleasantly
without they paid the penalty.
Rebecca very swiftly learned
she got exactly what she earned..

She soon became a paragon.
Her bad behaviour was all gone.
Which demonstrates that Grandma knew
exactly what she had to do.

To make Rebecca toe the line
applied a little discipline.
In her own old fashioned way.

[...] Read more

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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On A Famed Poet

Forgive me if his greatness I cannot seem to note
His poems never rhyme but he is a famed poet
By literary experts considered to be knowledgeable and wise
And for his poems he has won many a prize.

Though poetry is not very popular today
The poet of the poetry lovers the experts do say
In University literary magazines students his verses read
And they all agree he's a fine poet indeed.

Of poets and poetry I must confess so little I know
My favourites old rhymers from ages ago
On the poetry I do not like most experts agree
That it is well written and quite good poetry.

Forgive me if the worth in his verse I can't see
His non rhyming poetry does nothing for me
Of reading blank verse I do quickly grow tired
My truth is by such stuff I do not feel inspired.

The experts on his poetry great interest show
And his stature as a poet only seems to grow
Of him great things are written and great things we hear
And good luck to him on his literary career.

poem by Francis Duggan
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Knock.knock who's there for M 'ladyErnestine

The poltergeist, mischievous sprite
who taps and knocks to cause alarm
and can move things about by night.
A nuisance but does little harm.

It is to be found most commonly
up to his scalliwaggery.
Where one approaching puberty
creates him quite unconsciously.

He’s not a separate entity
but an extension of the mind.
Which can act independently
in some way as yet undefined.

Or so psychiatrists believe
and who can prove their words untrue
Their explanations don’t achieve
an end to what is troubling you.

A poltergeist a noisy ghost
does little harm to anyone
. His mostly unsuspecting host
often a girl sometimes a boy.

A child who quite unconsciously
expresses feelings they can’t show
with openness and honesty.
When they mature the ghost will go.

There are some things you can’t explain
no matter how hard you may try.
The experts need to think again
if they’re to solve this mystery.

But they maintain as experts do
that their opinions are correct.
Although sometimes this may be true.
Some times it is not I suspect.

For Poltergeists obey no rules
Although the experts think they do
Just self opinionated fools
who know less than they think they do.

14-Sep-08

http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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The Expert and The Apricot

The orchardist, with hope aglow,
Sets out a crop of fruit to grow
And sell it wisely where he can,
Like any other business man;
And he strives to make a contract fair and free.
But, 'Fie!' exclaims the Government,
'Have we not experts heaven-sent
Who, by their schemes an shrewd advice,
Will win you twice the market price?'
(And the bloom begins to burgeon on the tree.)

Then, lo, with docket and with file,
The studious experts toy the while.
With rain and sun, the season goes,
The blossom falls, the fruit it grows
As bureaucrats debate and disagree.
They look up section forty-two
And regulation Seven Q
All eagerly upon the scent
Of written rule and precedent.
(And the apricot is hardening on the tree.)

The orchardist toils in the sun;
He prunes and delves; and, one by one
The trees are sprayed with Parls Green,
Or, mayhap, soap or kerosene,
Or some vile mixture dear to chemistry.
Meantime, a sale the experts seek,
Not hurriedly, all in a week,
But in a manner dignified,
As fits such men of knowledge wide.
(And the apricot is ripening on the tree.)

Gravely they ponder this and that,
While buyers wait upon the mat;
And, as the smiling autumn comes,
They chew their pens and suck their thumbs.
And argue over Section Ninety D,
And while the harried orchardist
Grieves for the market that he missed.
They suddenly wake up and say:
'We have agreed at last! Hooray!'
(But the apricot is rotting 'neath the tree.)

poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Hairy Woes

(This not a poem. One day I thought whether I could write about hair problems and this is what I could come up with. Have a good hair day.)

Oh all the balding men of the world! Neither split your hair nor let your hair down; instead, get up to fight against hair experts and hair industries because, you have nothing to loss except hairs, which you are already losing anyway.

The scientific study published in, 'International Journal of Fake Studies', has proven beyond doubt that, all kinds of hairs and particularly black hairs, absorb sun light and thus indirectly contribute to the global warming whereas, shining bald pates reflect sun light back into the atmosphere, thus help to make earth’s climate cool. So taking these facts in account, bald persons should be given the tax rebate in form of carbon credits whereas, high taxation should be levied on persons with hair for leaving carbon footprints behind.

It is true my friend, that you are paying the tax as well as losing your hair, but try to imagine a plight of less fortunate ones, who neither earn enough money to pay the tax nor have enough hair to loss.

'Son! Why do you worry about your hair problems; get me mustards seeds from the home, that doesn't have hair problems', thus spake enlightened sage, hearing which young man became calm.

The biggest cause of hair fall, dandruff and other hair related problems is existence of hair.

No person with hair on his head, can solve all your hair problems, neither can the person without hair.

As, not all the armies of the world, can stop the idea whose time has come so, not all the hair experts can stem the progress of baldness, whose time has come.

Only two things are universal, hair problems and human stupidity, but I have doubt about former, thus spake Einstein of hair science.

Not all the trichologists, dermatologists and hair experts together, armed with shampoos, hair oils, hair dyes and herbal ointments can cure all the hair ailments, as long as hairs are there.

As long as hairs are there, there are going to be hair problems, similarly as long as shrinks are there, there are going to be mental problems.

The hair industry expands their business by perpetuating the two myths, first is there are more hair at unwanted place and other is, there are less hair at desired place.

Hair here, hair there, hair everywhere similarly: problem here, problem there, problem everywhere.

He fell in love with her hair and married the whole girl, soon he was without hair.

In early part of his life man losses his hair to earn money then he uses same money to gain hair back.

Don't bask in a glory of the hair, you used to have in past, instead tell me, do you have gorgeous hair now?

There is some truth in a myth that the bald men are fortunate; to begin with, they don't have to spend their fortune on comb, hair products, hair cuts and last but not least girls.

There are more blondes on streets of India than women of the rest of the world put together; thanks to Garnier. Take Care.

White hair is nothing but a flag hoisted by a tired life, signaling armistice with hostile time, which eventually leads to surrender to the death.

Blessed are the monks who shave their hair themselves, a symbol of a vanity of the world, because nature is going to destroy that vanity eventually anyhow.

Oh Sinner! Vain is your attempt to hide your sins, for sins will shine in your life as bald pate shines through the sparse tufts of hair.

It is irony that the monks who do not care for their hair often have beautiful and luxuriant hair.

Trees are nothing but hair of Gaia, the earth; if you destroy, them then earth too would take her revenge by creating conditions, that won't allow the hair to stay on your crown.

More often than not, one owns heir are responsible for one owns hair fall.

If you cannot prevent hair fall, enjoy it.

[...] Read more

poem by Hitesh Sheth
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Boundless curiosity for friend Thad.

The world is full of mysteries.
Colossal buildings left behind
by earlier societies.
Their purposes still ill defined

Although the archaeologists
advance their favourite theories.
The mysteries will long persist.
Their different hypotheses.

Cannot be proven any way.
They’re based on their experience
Of living in the world to day.
A different frame of reference.

Which cannot possibly apply
They saw the world quite differently.
I do not think we can deny
We’re blinkered in the way we see.

The evidence which we can find,
We can’t interpret properly
The artefacts they left behind
Their uses are a mystery.

Though we attempt to classify
we can’t be sure we are correct.
These relics from past history
aren’t always what we would expect.

Temples and Tombs or Palaces
The truth is that we do not know
Secular or sacred places.
There is no evidence to show.

That we can state with confidence
confirms our modern theories.
We have no point of reference
With which everyone agrees.

The arguments rage to and fro
As experts wrangle bitterly
They daren’t admit they do not know.
Although they don’t quite obviously.

At best an educated guess
Must be the best we can expect.
From experts trying to impress
The other experts I suspect.

[...] Read more

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Changes Are Natural

The perfect English summer day.
Is very seldom seen today
When skies are blue and clouds are few.
Although I know they used to do.

Long ago when I was small
They often came I can recall.
Playing in the summer sun
with my friends just having fun.

Though nowadays we see more rain
For reasons that I can't explain.
Although the experts say they can
They firmly place the blame on man.

Personally I cannot agree.
Changes happen naturally.
Although my views may seem perverse
I do believe the universe.

Dictates the pace of climate change.
When it decides to rearrange.
The patterns we have been used to
There's very little we can do.

We have no choice but to accept.
We do not know what to expect.
The universe has power to
Do precisely as it wants to do.

Climate changes in the past.
Have come and gone they did not last.
The human race is not to blame
We're minor players in the game.

Looking back at history
It seems quite obvious to me.
We lack the power to reverse
Decisions of the universe.

Long before man came on the scene.
We know quite well that there have been.
Climatic changes now and then.
The experts need to think again.

But experts are reluctant to
accept they need to change their view.
They can't face the reality.

[...] Read more

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Confounded Experts for Joe Poewhit

An artefact of machined steel
found buried in a deep coal seam.
The experts say it can’t be real
it does not fit with their world scheme.

The all insist it cannot be.
Be cause the know they can’t explain
this very strange anomaly
and so they bury it again.

They hide it very carefully.
Conceal the fact that it exists
forget about it quietly.
But awkward objects will persist.

So in due course it surfaces
as it was always certain to.
The so called experts have to face
awkward questions asked anew.

They do not know but dare not say.
this artefact defies their skill
They still cannot explain away
the artefact and never will.

They lack all credibility
Their rigid minds so tightly closed
They can dismiss reality
when it is not as they supposed.

An ancient machined artefact
found buried deep in a coal seam
Preserved for ages quite intact
Confounds the experts it would seem.

03/06/2009
http; // blog.myspace.com/poeticiers

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Que Sera, Sera

Que Sera, Sera

A New Year lies ahead of us. I must admit I’m curious.
to see if experts prophecies will turn out to be theories.
Which passing time will not sustain and leave the experts to explain.
Just how and why they got it wrong I’m sure they’ll sing the same old song.
We’re only men what we express is just an educated guess.
You have to place it in context. They do not know what will come next.
No more than any other man.Although they all profess they can
interpret the faint signs they see and can predict with accuracy.
What events will come to be but get it wrong consistently
That’s why I listen cynically and mostly unbelievingly.
When experts choose to air their views, I find their words of little use.
I much prefer to wait and see: What fate decrees will come to be..

1-Jan-09
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers

I wish you all a happy and peaceful 2009

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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El Nino The Thirsty One

Some weather experts told us el nino is dead
That we would have his rainy sister la nina instead
Of him but now the word is more dry and warm weather ahead
The drought to continue despite what we've heard and read
Old thirsty el nino is alive and well
For many he does make life an earthly hell
Because of him many farmers have committed suicide
Their hopes and their dreams by him have been destroyed
El nino is living despite what some weather experts do say
He is a survivor he will not go away
He sucks the dams and waterways dry and every dropp of moisture from the ground
Where drought is prevalent he is to be found
El nino the thirsty one is with us to stay
Despite what some of the experts on weather do say.

poem by Francis Duggan
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Most Of The So Called Literary Experts

Most of the so called literary experts are dismissive of rhyme
They say 'tis the poetry of a long gone time
Yet the poets that they laud the poems they do write
Cannot be put to music and are hard to read and recite
The rhymer of today is not looked on as a poet
Or is not seen as one worthy of literary note
By the so called literary experts with literary degrees
Though their judgement on what is or is not poetry not everyone does please
They never will convince the old style rhyme buff
To him or her well written rhyme is not throw away stuff
In well written rhyme are the words to a song
And good rhyming poetry to music belong
Yet the degreed literary experts who on poetry like to have their say
Dismiss rhyming poets and their poetry as of yesterday.

poem by Francis Duggan
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