Irene Kennedy is a resident of northern New Jersey, where she currently lives in a retirement community. She has written poetry since the 1940s, and she continues to write poetry today. Irene's poems contain reflections on the places she has lived, the people she has known, and the emotions she has felt over the years. When collected together, her poems form a literary photo album, with written snapshots of events that range from the mundane to the tragic, from the spiritual to the lighthearted.

The collection of Irene's work, Words of My Heart, is now available to everyone in hardcover and paperback versions.

Samples from Words of My Heart, by Irene Kennedy

Did I Tell You?

Did I tell you of the sea in this place?

Of the blue and the black of it?

Of the wildness and calm of it?

How it roars and moans to one,

Beckons and calls to one?

How it lies like a mirror

Reflecting the sky,

And draws one within its arms

Sweetly to lie?

Did I tell you of the folk in this place?
Of the blonde and the tan of them?
Of the straightness and lean of them?
How they sway to the wind’s voice,
Bending not breaking?
How they ride the rough waves,
Sure of their place,
And laugh at the storm’s strength
Calmly to face?

Wellfleet, 1945

Around Our Fireplace

Around our fireplace is where
Our children love to be
These cold and wintry days!
Michael sprawls in lazy comfort
Seeing his dreams in the curling flame.
Peter is reading another book
While Sally colors her own design.
And Lisa, rocking her baby doll,
Lovingly smiles and says, “Her name is Jesus.”
And I am sure that He
Feels this is the way
It ought to be!

Fantasy in the Nursing Home

I’ll meet you after breakfast
In the hallway —
And we’ll wheel our wheelchairs
Together, side by side.
We’ll pretend we’re shopping
In the Village Street
And make conversation with the shopkeepers
As we pass by.
There’s Frank’s and Joe’s and Charles’
Among the familiars — 
Whose faces light with pleasure
When they’re pleased.
Others prefer to stay within
And greet their customers inside.
Down the block a bit,
Just in case you trip or fall:
Clustered about their stand
Are those wonderful, laughing ladies,
Ready to give you aid with a warm and helping hand.
Now we’ll go down to the crossroad
And then we’ll turn around;
There we are, in the hallway again!
Wheeling our wheelchairs
Together, side by side.

On the Bank of the Pond

Come, sit with me down here,
On the bank of the pond.
Talk to me — tell me of the people
Who live on the other side.
I’ll spend the time looking at you.
I find you quite beautiful, you know,
Even if it isn’t the thing to call a man.
But through our years
You have become, to me, just that — 
In laughter or sorrow,
In doubt or even anger,
There is always love.
And what is love but beauty?
So here we sit on the bank of the pond,
Just the two of us.
And I don’t really care
Who lives on the other side.

All poems copyright by Irene Kennedy. Not to be reproduced without permission.