Irene C S ClarkHogg

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I live in the North East of England with my husband, who is also a poet, three cats and two dogs. I have been a writer of poetry and prose for many years and enjoy experimenting with a variety of poetry forms. more »

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Best Poem of Irene C S ClarkHogg



Iron pipes that pierce the skyline.
Concrete, white against the blue.
Office blocks, now cold and empty,
No sun-streaked glass to mar the view.

Empty eyes that gaze unseeing
On a vista stark and bare.
No dogs to foul the empty pavements.
No birdsong on the morning air.

In an alley filled with rubble,
A rust encrusted laundry van,
Filled with shrouds, no longer needed
By the creatures they called man.

But hope is born, for time must pass.
In reformed tarmac, a blade of grass.

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