Lorraine Poems - Poems about Lorraine

Many moments recalled in pain Even as everyone wonders in vain Martin lay motionless at the Lorraine Photos pour popular chords of disdain His was a hallowed history to gain Innocence into infinity’s drain Seasons secure will never be slain ========================================== Featured Poem on Poetry Soup - April 4, 2021...

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Sleep I can’t feign. I hear the falling rain tapping a refrain on the window pane. My throbbing pain recedes and I obtain relief from the migraine which had free reign like a freight train, a cause for mental strain. Drat the champagne! Don’t blame the quiche Lorraine. - - - - - - - - - - - - -...

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At the sport of para-shooting, about focus, Lorraine was in love at the first sight of it, She’d been a rock climber, bad accident, So she now competes at Paralympic writs. She first fought at the Lower Limbs Games, An event put on by famous Stoke Mandeville, Where she earned a medal for every sport,...

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My Briefs Lorraine Fecal stains on my briefs they must be washed but to my dismay they’ve gone away I left them in a drunken stupor on the floor by the pooper and now they’re nowhere to be found It’s not that I should have a care I have many other briefs to wear but my Lorraine is dear to me they’re brillant blue and...

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Mysterious eyes do they look my way Soft smile beckons me to stay She talks and talks with nothing to say I can't move, lost in her gaze The music starts she grabs my hand We rock and roll to the rhythm Slow song and I hold her tight Lost in the sway of a starry night Pretty girl are you real Pretty girl...

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Near Saint Avold, France, More than ten thousand heroes Whisper from the soil....

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My Briefs Lorraine Fecal stains on my briefs they must be washed but to my dismay they’ve gone away I left them in a drunken stupor on the floor by the pooper and now they’re nowhere to be found It’s not that I should have a care I have many other briefs to wear but my Lorraine is dear to me they’re brillant blue and...

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I left you bleeding in Alsace-Lorraine from the dozen roses rife with thorns, each a story meant to wound. For not often did I tell you the truth. In Marseilles, we drowned in wine mixed with tears and terrible fears, and in the shadow of a doubt I played the sun, the future husband. I try to forget Paris, ten thousand...

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The gardens of Chenonceau look so beautiful and bright But I prefer to keep them out of sight As I mourn in this room of black and white I sit tight and wait for my love He gave me his word and that is enough However, my heart knows the truth and it is breaking But I still spend every waking...

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