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Irene ClarkHogg Poems
Nine Ages of Woman
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.
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.
The candle burns, a steady flame that smoothes the lines and folds of time, and brings out from the past a youth.
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.
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?
Art of Poetry.......The
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.
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.
Concerning the Psychological Impact of L...
Intellectuals still attempt to define The thing called love, and underline Each aspect in its little box. They squirm within their PhD,
Arms Full of Dreams
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.
A Gentle Breath
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
Comments about Irene ClarkHogg
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
Nine Ages of Woman
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.
First I was an infant,
Screaming defiance from my bed,
Then my childhood, age of innocence,
Exploring life wherever it lead.
Throughout my youth I danced and sang
For music was my life,
But I gave up my freedom
When I became a wife.
Motherhood, a lifetime commitment,
I adored my beautiful boys.
At forty I threw out the tyrant,
And began playing with new toys.
I had lovers, not very ...