Irene C S ClarkHogg

I have a little mouse called Arthur
Who gnaws away inside my bones
He is armed with sharp incisors
And metal claws on all his toes.
...

His love was a raindrop
In the lonely desert sand.
The place that once was me,
Setting me free,
...

A woman gave part of her soul
That the being she created could be whole
Then having physical and spiritual form
As the sun arose a child was born.
...

I was born on the banks of the old river Tyne,
Where it wends its way east to the sea.
Past the pit heaps and coal tugs; the clang of the shipyards
Created fond memories for me.
...

Holocaust.


Iron pipes that pierce the skyline.
...

“Forsooth maid, ” spake he,
“Hear now my true words.”
This varlet of a bygone age,
This sage, with heathen tongue.
...

A Glossa in honour of William Blake.

The Tiger
...

Colin Curry came acourting
Comely Countess Caroline
Craving cuddles, cool caresses
Choosing creepers,
...

As a child I dreamed of a fairy wood
Where I could visit, as each child should;
To learn of elves and castles of light,
Where witches brewed spells and flew in the night.
...

Bon Appetite


The world is my oyster, how shall I consume it,
...

Johnny was a vampire,
One of the ancient breed.
Some said, ‘They are born of woman,
But spawned by Satan’s seed.’
...

I will go out in a blaze of glory.
One day I will die, as now I live.
I do not know all the answers
But this promise I can give.
...

Africa Awakes.


Early morning: a mist enshrouded scene.
...

Mary Margaret Montigrew
Was looking rather fat
But over-indulgence in chocolate cake
Was not the reason for that
...

Come, Dance.


Come, dance with me beneath the moon,
...

This is in answer to Dee's challenge

I live near a small village
In a large cave beside a stream
...

The rainbow is a type of prism,
Or so all the scientists say,
A splitting of light in raindrops
After the storm we had today.
...

Oh, how I miss all my children
I do miss the small ones
And the very tall ones
And the in between ones.
...

Lead grey skies enfold like shrouds
To clothe the rain lashed mountain peaks
Birds huddle down with open beaks
Protesting to encroaching clouds.
...

I don’t want to be an Easter bunny
I think Easter is all rot
‘Cos those humans try to catch me
And put me in a pot.
...