Irene ClarkHogg Poems

Some say that three score years and ten
Count the life time of a man;
But I can beat him, I’m a woman.
I’ll reach one hundred if I can.
...

The candle burns, a steady flame
that smoothes the lines and folds of time,
and brings out from the past a youth.
...

To the North, near the far horizon,
Where the wild moor meets the sky,
There is a gateway into Heaven,
We can see it if we try.
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Many teachers are destroying poetry.
We are losing what was once an art.
It is not just prose cut into lines;
But a form of writing quite apart.
...

A fragile young rose is a flower of great beauty,
Which a gardener may wish to grow in his soil
She enhances his life and brings great admiration;
But needs care and attention which means he must toil.
...

Intellectuals still attempt to define
The thing called love, and underline
Each aspect in its little box.
They squirm within their PhD,
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It is nice if we can eat for pleasure,
Perusing new menus at our leisure.
Choosing what delights our taste
Without adding inches to our waist.
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Is it selfish to cling to those who have gone?
To wish for his strong arms when darkness falls,
Or his hand to help me along the street,
Soft lips for a kiss every time we meet?
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Love is the gentle breath of air
That keeps the candle’s flame alight
Bringing nourishment for the life force
Through the dark hours of the night
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I have a man who fills my arms with dreams.
All is as it seems; sweet smelling roses.
Soft, mown grasses on which we can rest,
And watch love pass the test, the test of time.
...