Irene Poems - Poems about Irene

Decades a midwife a definer of rights written so patients And authoritys both knew their plights.' Un-jabbed 2020 up Till today, yet prosecuted by N Z jacinda aderns machine which stated She had to pay? They tried to bully and really every sick trick.' Even forgery of her signature, i think they were a bit thick? Well...

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Irene boxed it all up and took it outside. There were five thousand one hundred and twenty-five boxes. If you sort one box every day, you will have this sorted in no time. Irene was a mathematician. She divided it out. If she sorted one box a day It would take her fourteen years to sort it all out. She went back...

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("Dreaming Gaia", 2020, original encaustic) Good Night Irene, Sweet Dreams We live in a time of two competing visions; The creation myths of sudden and gradual change, Or monotheism’s creationism on one hand And scientific materialism’s evolution the other. Both spring from the same source Of course, The human mind in general And Eastern Mediterranean cultures in particular. In this way they are...

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Her long eyelashes are fetching. Irene has beautiful eyes, most donkeys have. When I call her, she comes, but not right up to me, she trots to my side turns, facing the same way I am looking. I am not looking at anything much, we two are just sharing the moment, that’s what friends do....

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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...

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whenever she says hello without bowing look at me Not with the eyes, but with the light of heart look at me And I'm soaking in the joy of life like that time....

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It was the year of `Spirit in the Sky.’ I kept your picture Irene. We all thought we would die young. Your grainy wedding photograph (cut at the time from a local newspaper), has emerged again like a yellow submarine. I imagine your rainbow stockings still flying from the periscope of that long abandoned vessel. The sky-spirit is arriving Irene, seagulls are singing like...

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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...

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Her Majesty Queen Irene a most elegant royal cat folk take one look like an open book with her majestic royal aura they simply love and adore her her colours are so special so regal ...

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Listen to her death certificate’ Who’d fought for life’s duplicate “Severe Anorexia Secondary to status asthmaticus”. Oh! How it had rung worse than Amnesia And had meant some asthmatic curse. Several struggle -out “God, Receive my soul’’ As death bell was about to toll I, to the hilt, a struck-dumb spectator For the longest seconds, tongue-tied commentator Soon, rapidly pondering not why...

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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...

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It would be so wonderful to break into the impenetrable heart of Irene who opposes my advance and feels serene; what is the reason for her resistance? Am I not what she expects in essence, or even a liar so deceitful? No woman's hand I have touched and smeared it with any impurity, I have always loved passionately; given all and proud of what...

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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...

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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...

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Stress pulled Me Myself and Irene went from nice to stubbornly mean had to change to help me because nobody was helping me No respect a joke and clown treating me without a care as you expect broke me down a long long time and everywhere I went from saying please to I will hurt you no time or energy no concern...

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