03/16/2013 at 10:18 AM 1 comment

Grannys Little Projects

Irish I Wish

I’ll tell a secret, if you care to hear

One which the Irish prefer to keep dear.

Not only March 17th, every year,

You too can weave stories that bring a tear.

Do you wish?

Then come closer, I’ll whisper in your ear.

It will not hurt, just a story, don’t fear.

No need for travel to Ireland dear.

I will tell. . . .order me another beer!

I drink. . .Swish

A bit tipsy, but I’ll try not to slur.

The Blarney Stone, one need not inure,

lean out window, backward, when on tour.

Wait. . .I’m dry,. . . whiskey for me, this time sir.

Love the Irish!

Back to my story, yes, please do endure.

Do not kiss that rock, oh no, to be sure!

Just tell the others you did, that’s the cure!

For the gift of gab. …

View original post 64 more words


Entry filed under: Poetry.

Poem: My Racing Mind Poem on Aging: Scary Venture

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Copyright notice

Original poetry. Copyright 2012, June Nash

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