Archive for June, 2012

Poem about Being a Loner

Solitary Life


Solitaire, a game for one.

My friends say, ‘you are no fun’.

I’m engaged, watching TV,

Reading books which set me free.


Solitaire, a game I’ve won.

Just imagine things I’ve done.

Closed inside, all by myself,

Like my books upon the shelf.


Solitaire, friends I have none,

Off together, me they shun.

Abandoned to my private,

Deep and dark, lonesome orbit.

–                        – June Nash

06/30/2012 at 8:38 AM 2 comments

Poem about Living ones Life

Living Life


If dying, would life I waste,

Would I be in such a haste,

Running at fanatic pace?

Or time left, would I embrace?

Ambitions, mine, would I scoff,

Let my goals remain put off?

Devote life, to other’s plan,

Have no voice as spirits wan?


Would I look to deeper needs,

For youth’s sake, plant a few seeds?

Tell stories of my life’s past,

Fuel passions, making them last.

Spend money on things that grow,

Watching reaped, what I would sow.

Deal out cards, make them aces

Feed young souls, to win races.


Do I sail to other shore,

Quench my thirst for knowledge more?

Or do I sit inside tomb,

Where I’ve sat since mother’s womb?

Cannot wait until death nears!

Must make a change, despite fears.

I am living, must take reins.

Living life, while life remains.

 –                     – June Nash

06/28/2012 at 7:57 AM Leave a comment

Poem about Dream of Death

Deathly Dream

I had a dream last night.

Listen close to my plight.

Stranger came to my home,

Cloaked in black, he did roam.


Calling out, knew my name.

Trembling now, not a game.

Truth dawns, striking vivid.

Hold resolve stand rigid.


Death, come, I welcome thee.

From this world set me free.

Here don’t make me reside.

From this pain I must hide.


Take my spirit, free soul,

Grant energy unroll.

Let spark from body leave.

Others for soul will grieve.


Suddenly, from sleep woke.

Spell of doom, poof, was broke.

Unrest felt, of that dreamed

Appearance of death gleaned.

–                           – June Nash

06/27/2012 at 7:25 AM 1 comment

Poem about Going Out To Eat

The Pub


Lonely, hungry, need to eat.

Tired, depressed, so dam beat.

Eating out again tonight,

Wanting food prepared just right.


Joint is busy,  too much noise.

Rapping music, destroys poise.

Sleazy pub, greasy menu.

Should have found better venue.

The hour, happy, feel better.

Unwind, escape from fetter.

Talking, mingling, watching game.

Staying at home not the same.


Chicken tender, good, spicy.

Check out costs, not too pricy.

Joint is busy, having fun.

Too bad it’s late, have to run.

–                       – June Nash

06/26/2012 at 12:05 AM Leave a comment

Poem about a Gloomy Mood

Sorrowful Night

Tearing eyes filled with sorrow

Heart sinking, full of harrow

Once again, black hole prevails

Listen close . . . to silent wails


Torment creeps, unsuspected.

Dark, my thoughts, resurrected.

What ill deed, did I inflict,

That gloom’s cloud over me picked?


Groping blind, searching in dark

Inner core.  My soul is stark.

Hoping for small gleam of light

Scare away mares of the night.

Cannot break away from strife,

Though often it pains my life.

Leave me now, to my sorrow

May mood lift, ‘pon the ‘morrow.

–                         – June Nash

06/24/2012 at 2:55 PM Leave a comment

Poem on a Dirty House

Filthy House


Stains drip down the oven door.

Bread crumbs scattered on the floor.

Webs of dust, all filled with bugs.

Stains cover living room rugs.

Who can live in filth like this?

With open eyes, cannot miss

Clutter and filth as I roam.

Disgusting, if not my home.


When it’s your own dirt you find

Dirty is a state of mind.

Sure I need pick up a bit,

But since guests aren’t due, I’ll sit.

–                   – June Nash

06/23/2012 at 12:54 AM Leave a comment

Poem about Toilet Etiquette

Toilet Etiquette


Gentlemen, Please, don’t you see?

When you miss, you piss on me.

Looking down from such a height,

You mayn’t understand my plight.


When aim is off, sprinkles fly.

Toilet rim, and floor near by,

Covered in that yellow stuff.

I tell you, I’ve had enough!


Never with bare feet will tread,

Even with my shoes I dread

Tracking it to other rooms.

On carpet, once clean, it looms.


If you fail to hit your mark,

And not want my temper spark,

Pick up a wipe, perhaps two,

You should clean up after you.

–                      – June Nash

06/22/2012 at 6:29 AM Leave a comment

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Copyright notice

Original poetry. Copyright 2012, June Nash

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