Best Irene Poems
Dearest Irene
Queen of Cats
Your dear Panagiota
Will soon be back
Wait patiently Irene
And before too long
You'll hear her voice
Singing you a song
And she'll be dressed
In her feather boa
With a spring in her step
Looking just as you know her
As you run to meet her
You can't wait to greet her
She's the one you adore
Walking through the door
As you snuggle up
together ~
forevermore...
Written 9th November 2021 ~ for dear Irene QUEEN OF CATS ^~^
Panagiota's beloved cat ~ may they be reunited soon...
POEM OF THE DAY 10.11.21
Contest A STRAND (1069)
Sponsor Brian Strand
N/A
IRENE ^~^ zzzzzzz...
Now my friend has a pussy called Irene
She is regal
She writes poetry
She is known as the Queen
Each day she eats salmon from a golden tureen
But one day last spring
A fat rat wandered in
Falling asleep on her golden tureen
And to her surprise whilst eating rat thighs
Irene found them deliciously lean
low fat ~ if you know what I mean...
No more salmon or caviar she's addicted to rat
But not Ratatouille for that is too chewy
Irene now eats a dish known as Rat-a-tat-tat
slowly cooked by my friend in a purple chef's hat...
12th February 2020
Ode to Irene ^~^ a most unusual cat...
Contest Strand Select N
Sponsor Brian Strand
FIRST PLACE
Irene....My Mother and I.
I cannot believe I am her daughter!
She always dressed in the very best taste.
Very little jewelry, conservative
dresses, no slacks, are you kidding?
A white-gloved perfect lady,she.
Hats she wore yes, exquisite ones.
Never a babushka on her coiffure.
Boots,too, my Mother loathed,
In those years, verily homely were they.
However,in platformed heels, she was
true beauty in motion.
Panagiota, her daughter, the dreamer,
Thinks everyday day is Carnival in Rio!
And would wear a Samba outfit
Right this day, if only she could!
Be a true Sambanista, bringing the joys
of Brazil to your neighborhood.
Loves humongous earrings and necklaces.
People stare at her with strange faces.
And she is insane over shoes metallic.
With colorful gems upon them or
flowers, totally exotic.
Her dreams to be a Rockette, alas, if
only she could.
Quite the woman~ a legend in her own
mind!
Writing poetry, in an imaginary land
of her own making.
In her magenta robe, sparkling adornments
in her hair and gold MaryJane shoes, as dainty as flowers!
Writing her soul poems by the hours.
Cannot forget her paramours!
Listening to the music of Antonio Carlos
Jobim, total heaven!
Enjoying her freedom and ever so blessed!
A Princess~ ruling in a land all her own
smiling with flowers.
Her hand, with the giant moonstone
ring from Peru,
Her passion for all things turquoise,
jade or Santorini blue
Her head, never stuck in things practical.
Just flies in all directions,never pedantic.
Purely, romantic or totally magical.
Thus~ is her setting for writing poetry,
She cherishes your comments in this
land of the free!
We roaming souls connecting by things so
ecstatic~
This is so very joyous and totally
far from all things tragic.
Panagiota Romios
3/24/2019
she lingers awhile
her breath sways trees to and fro
clinging to power
The zephyr winds hess as
Irene and Sandy proceed with vengeance
Halloween Sea witches venturing close to shore
In search of mortal men; revenge on the Eastern shores.
The course of true love never
Quite runs smooth, as the old adage goes: quote
Goodbye hurricane
though you leave us without wrath
bless those in your path
For Princess Ann Gilmore
~Across the Pond~
I wish I could meet Princess Ann!
I just know she would like me.
My royal calico fur, my gentleness.
My kind green eyes, she’d see.
I was just resting on Mum’s chair!
Dreaming of shells, England and the sea.
Just once, I prayed just once, dear God.
Please allow me, lovely Princess Ann to see!
~Love, Queen Irene~
3-16-2022
This is just a freestyle poem
I really don't have much time
I love to sit and wonder
I crack up every time I rhyme
all you have to do in life
if you want to get ahead
is beat your sister up the stairs
on the way to bed
when you start to take life too seriously
it's not fun to play anymore
everything's so serious
everyone is a bore.
I say we should all freestyle
maybe just for today
we don't know what you're thinking
so what do you have to say?
The night light burns,
Flickering candle in a
Jar of clay. Shadows
Become rats running
And then forming a
Circle of dance. I rub
My eyes in dis-belief.
It's gone 12. I should
Be in bed asleep. I am
Not. I am waiting up
For my sister Irene. I
Am tired. I am alone.
I am frightened. I feel
Like crying. Fearful.
I hear a key turn. It's
Irene. I am a child.
I go to sleep. Night!.
I
would
realy
call
you
wonderful
Realy?
Beyond
what
words
can
tell
Everything
about
you
is
just
amazing
Never
understand
what
to
say
Every
minute
i
meet
you
Would
you
mind
if
i
called
you
beautiful?
As
everything
about
you
is
lovely
I
forever
watch
you
from
a
distance
Reaching
you
a
dream
i
forever
dream
I
have
always
kept
in
my
heart
Memories
of
when
i
first
met
you
Under
the
golden
morning
rising
sun
u bring me peace
yes your name means peace
in my time of trouble
i know i can rely on you baby
i love you more than life
and i'd rather share it with you.
Since the day she was born
It was love at first sight...
She would stretch
With all of her might
To reach the sofa cushion
To lay down next to her master.
Devotion,
Obedience,
And love and affection,
Nurtured a special bond
And the fulfillment
Of everlasting joy.
Her *****,
Her personality,
Her spontaneity of idiosyncrasies...
Nudging her ball with her nose,
Affectionate kisses, or even,
Stepping on your toes
Just to let you know
She is always there.
Jaunts along the sea wall,
Swimming in the bay,
Walking down the street...
Whatever I do,
Wherever I go,
She is always there for me.
She's my best friend,
Always and Forever1
in the absence of all reason
you become my reference
for absolute truth and objectivity
i'd never have known so much joy
and experienced so much love
if i hadn't met you
you are the foundation of my conception of love
i'd melt the snow on the peak of kilimanjaro
and bring the world to an end
just to let you know
how much i do
love you.
The charming Lady Adler Irene;
Was strangely nowhere to be seen;
As revealed by this clear blanked out scene;
Where those who knew her said she'd been,
Where oft she did appear.
That splendid genius Sherlock Holmes;
For whom no mystery stayed unsolved;
Took up the case within a beat;
As it transpired this curious feat,
Involved his very own sweet dear.
Now Holmes used every trick he knew;
He studied every minute clue;
Searched high and low to no avail;
There simply was no sign or trail,
To indicate what foul did play or who.
But dear Irene had not been taken;
She had in fact just been forsaken;
Her jealous Holmes would have decried;
Her talent, should she ever have tried,
To solve a case or two.
One assumed she changed her name to Ira;
Bought tickets to the Riviera;
With an Italian beau in tow;
To crack the case of how Italians row,
To show her Holmes!
But Irene's path led not to Rome;
Her beauty lost on Sherlock Holmes;
Jamaica had seduced her mind;
She lost herself in Caribbean rhyme,
A rum filled hut now home.
The folks who name the hurricanes
Have scrapped the name Irene.
It seems a rather drastic step,
But really, it’s routine.
When hurricanes wreak havoc
And a lot of lives are lost,
The name’s removed forevermore
Because a line’s been crossed.
It’s happened many times before
For it just seems much kinder
To choose a brand new handle
That won’t be a sad reminder.
So next time in the alphabet
When they are up to “I,”
The namers of the hurricanes
Think “Irma” rates a try.
A name that’s linked with evil
Often vanishes from view –
Baby Adolph wouldn’t even get
A decent cootchie coo!