Archive for August, 2013

Poem: Fence Painting

Fence Painting

by June Nash

.

start painting the fence

a job quite immense

brushing the pickets

such sticky wickets

each nook and cranny

of which are many

seemed simple at first

‘til fully immersed

done, clothes splattered white

but fence shining bright

then starts heavy rain

must do it again

08/29/2013 at 6:44 AM Leave a comment

Poem: family


family

by June Nash

.

hear chimes and blip beeps

loud snores as spouse sleeps

bodies sprawled in heaps

.

PCs and TVs

kids talk hitting keys

mate’s tube causes z’s

.

all gathered they come

no wonder they’re glum

repartee is mum

.

gadgets and gizmos

creating limbos

evoking pathos

08/22/2013 at 6:42 AM Leave a comment

Poem: Canoeing Adventure

.

Canoeing Adventure

by June Nash

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When canoeing on the lake

Oh, Surprise! a flip did take

Quick, splash, wet, going under

Confidence torn asunder

 .

Had no breath, held close to boat

Could not find life cushion float

Cold, scared, panic starts to creep

Must hold on, don’t start to weep

 .

From the shore sounds of a laugh

Not a time for one to gaff

“Just stand up and walk to shore

Cannot be waist high or more”

.

08/15/2013 at 6:44 AM Leave a comment

Poem: Buzz in the Dark

Buzz in the Dark

by June Nash

 .

warm flesh prickles with dread

quiet buzz around head

I lie awake in bed

 .

creature arouses fright

as it halts to alight

on this still humid night

 .

cannot see in the dark

as the thing makes it’s mark

arousing feelings stark

 .

move to brush it away

squashed on arm it will lay

bloody mosquito splay

08/08/2013 at 6:02 AM Leave a comment

Poem: Mop It Up

Mop It Up

by June Nash

.

Take a rag and mop it up

Act as though you spilt your cup

Mishaps occur all the time

Being human’s not a crime

.

Take a rag and mop it up

Then pour some more in your cup

Focus on the good you see

Forgive your faults, set self free

I was talking to my daughter on the phone when she said “Take a rag and mop it up”.  I thought she was talking to me, figuring it was some new saying.  It wasn’t.  She was talking to my granddaughter who spilt some water on the floor.  

This poem is taken from that line.  Take a rag and mop it up.

08/01/2013 at 1:43 PM Leave a comment


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Copyright notice

Original poetry. Copyright 2012, June Nash

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