Best Maureen Poems
Beautiful butterfly, Maureen!
Serendipitous creativity sails
on chromatic borealis seas
brevity breathes longevity.
bEaUtiFuL bUtTeRfLy, Maureen!
12/11/2019
Tribute to Maureen McGreavy
Can you imagine a bond with one I have hardly seen?
But if I can call someone my bosom buddy, it is Maureen.
We contact over the phone daily as a routine.
In keeping our friendship intact, both of us are keen.
We first met accidentally at the office canteen.
Soon she went away to another place and was never seen.
She was then so very young, hardly nineteen.
Her appearance and manners were quite clean.
She was petite and lean with a pleasant mien,
Endowed with a heart with qualities umpteen.
She seldom says or does anything harsh or mean.
Sane in her decisions with a disposition serene,
In my heart’s innermost shrine, she stays ever green
Also brightens my life with dazzling sheen
She reigns in my heart as an unrivalled queen.
In my sorrow and in every need, on her, I can lean!
October.4.2022
Resubmitted for Brian Strand Premier Choice Poetry Contest
Single Stanza Monorhyme Poetry Contest
Sponsor. L MILTON HANKINS
A Dream For Maureen
saw her peeking hesitantly
through the window
shaped as a page yellowed
with age and scented of violets
and forget me nots, a posey
once given shyly
and received with love.
I reached toward her
she stepped gingerly into
my world of words and wishes
for a long spring afternoon.
Dear Maureen
Fellow poet
If I were green
Would you know it!??
You have a gift
It’s clear to see
Your poems are swift
But, you “see” me
I’m pleased to know
I’ve caught your eye
But running low
On muse supply
I can’t begin
To comprehend
How, such a talent
Could squeeze me in
How could it be
You find the time
And gracefully
Address my rhymes
Though not your taste
Not your style
My words, won’t waste
They make you smile
Perhaps it’s small
But not to me
Your words are all
I need to see
Thank you, friend
navel as in ships
oops add an "a" still gazing
galaxies of breasts
A midnight ship with silver sails
And hoisted flags with scarlet tails
Is whisked by winds of golden gales
Descending from the skies above.
And though the decks are wet and soaken,
Still the hull is swift and oaken
So the course remains unbroken,
Trailing wakes of turtledoves.
With storm departed, then no sooner
Comes, unseen, a pirate schooner
Neath the nighttime, light and lunar,
Pouncing with a push and shove.
Though hope seems lost, a cyclone saves
Dispersing foes and other knaves
With frothy foamy fisted waves
Which strike like leaden leather gloves.
Secured, the ship has safely landed
- Left behind, the pirates stranded -
Passers-by are smiling candid,
Knowing not the worth thereof.
For hidden in the wooden hold
Is treasure bursting unforetold
- Far more than diamonds, thyme and gold -
It brings unbound a brother’s Love.
Maureen the poet of fame
Said she liked my footle the same
She felt love intense,
For “The Little Prince”,
Hope she comes back again and again.
It’s dark outside,
I see a light:
Our neighbour’s lamp
Is shining bright.
She straps it to her head
And ventures to the shed.
In her robe and her boots,
She is creeping along,
And I wonder at first:
Am I seeing it wrong?
She raises the shutter
And the hens flutter out,
And perch on her person;
She protests with a shout.
She is covered in birds -
Not an inch to be seen -
And the fattest one sits
Like a crown on a queen.
Food saves the day;
Hens fly away.
The chickens peck
The food she leaves;
And Maureen cleans
Her mucky sleeves. *
* decided to keep it clean and say ‘mucky’, LOL
For Sheri’s rhythms contest, Rock me Round the Clock
Maureen, Maureen, a belle in an earthy sense,
the love of life, a love in pure essence.
You toy with the mind and fly away,
a free spirit who knows just how to play,
a flaxen haired goddess (is it actually real?).
Are you sure you're erotically pure? I feel
there's more to you than all of us know.
What are you hiding, fighting to show?
I see your smiles, your cavalier life.
I know it's in reaction to grief suddened strife.
I wish I could feel what you have been through,
I am there now, I don't know what to do.
Give me your secret, your illustrious plan,
to turn a sad world into something that's grand!
You have the answers to questions I've asked,
you don't understand but answer with class!
Maureen
Poem
Lionel Derbyshire
Maureen how wonderful ..
You glow in black stockings
Those lovely curve's
With flames and flaunting coy
Perfectly stocked in their net's
It is really high class
I m stretching my neck
I have no brake's.
Maureen you will ..
Stop the traffic
When your smiling
Red lips pout my eyes
Lusty and crispy
Rich dark foaming
Lager brewed in ale
Maureen ahoy ! do you ..
Hear me calling you
My mouth is watering
The long and winding
Trip to my throat
Makes my heart to gallop.
Maureen ..
More in more in
My favourite
Kind of beer.
There are some sad things that happen,
and here is a story of love broken . . .
Maureen lived in a small quaint house,
with her dog, hens and maybe a mouse;
but she was getting old and forgetful,
and Molly her dog was also old and feeble.
Maureen's health declined and she became needful,
now, neighbors take old Molly for a walk,
the hens were sold- hope not for the cookpot;
in a care home Maureen just looks at the clock.
This tale of sadness doesn't end right there,
with old Maureen alone, no one to care;
a carer moved in there, to cook and clean:
Maureen is now the happiest I've seen!
The carer Pascale is so very kind;
she doesn't mind Maureen has lost her mind;
they go on walks in parks, the dog behind,
or tea in cafes, rides by bus or train . . .
She loves to stay inside her own domain;
an end for sure to all Maureen's old pain!
___________________________
February 11, 2018
Poetry/Rhyme/Maureen, Molly and Hens/
Collaboration with Jack Horne
Copyright Protected, ID 18-1015-725-01
All Rights Reserved. Written Under Pseudonym.
POM POMS FOR MAUREEN AND JAN
Maureen’s titillating poem, tit for tat.
Excitement of goosebumps,
sure as tease, shown in verse.
She has Jan’s front and back.
An exclamation - a sisterhood shout:
what’s this all about - birds or not?
Unfortunately, my title can’t wink,
smile or rise in peaks of zenith blue.
Two sets of pom-poms fly in my face…
My irreverent revue seeks second place.
4/19/2018
Reference:
Maureen McGreavy’s “POINT FOR EXCLAMATION - FOR JAN
Jan Allison’s “I’VE GOT BLUE ****
I swore that was you at the show yesterday
Chatting in line, bright young smile on display
But of course, it can't be
Now you'd be old like me
Yet I'm still glad you don't just fade
No one ages in our memory
They stay the same though old they may be
It is indisputable
No one stays as beautiful
As they were once when young and carefree
by Belle Bellevue
11/12/22
Get into Shape Maureen
Scary words for a Square
Or if you are a fat get like me
My head is the shape of a potato
My waistline resembles a Burger
And my bum takes the shape of a Doughnut
Because I can't keep my mouth shut
And I have Pear induced childbearing hips
And my thighs pass for ships in the night
So I can't wear anything tight
For fear of splitting the seams on my skinny jean's lol
And i have to wear a sport's Bra to flatten my bust
So I don't get asked out on many date's
And on-line dating is out of the question
Unless I fail to mention
When asked to describe my body Shape ?
Because I then would have to reply ?
Round a kind of figure of 8
Not so much a Shape
More a Pyramid with uneven side's
Or a Poached Egg attached to a head
You say Shape
I say Clay
Or children's putty
For Maureen Mcgreavy
Get into Shape poetry contest
There are some sad things that happen,
and here is a story of love broken . . .
Maureen lived in a small quaint house,
with her dog, hens and maybe a mouse;
but she was getting old and forgetful,
and Molly her dog was also old and feeble.
Maureen's health declined and she became needful,
now, neighbors take old Molly for a walk,
the hens were sold- hope not for the cookpot;
in a care home Maureen just looks at the clock.
Waiting for my writing partner to add their part
__________________
January 21, 2018
Poetry/Rhyme/Maureen, Molly and the Hens/Collaboration
Copyright Protected, ID 18-9852-19-01
All Rights Reserved. Written by Broken Wings and Jack Horne