Best Jim Poems

Jim was a lumberjack from Borehamwood
A chainsaw mishap took off his manhood
His Love life was a mess
He now suffers from stress
So he made himself one out of oak wood .

He went to bed one night full of desire
Sue his wife put on her sexy attire
Things...

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On this tropical beach, one hot summer day
Jim the Trim came, his bod to display
Been workin’ out day and night
Made the girls' eyes burn bright
Next, he's running from muscles that sashay





KIM PATRICE NUNEZ
10 April 2015...

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Jim, now rich, bought a wee li’l islet;
there he lived, with ten men and a starlet.
Changed his partner each day,
heaved and huffed till they say,
the islet is now, the town named Scarlet.





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The story's not over, he's not decadent.
Send away the men, he just simply can’t;
they...

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A homeless man on a park bench
wore a tattered shirt bearing a stench.
He munched leftovers from garbage cans
with deep tanned face and unwashed hands.
He slept on a sidewalk heating vent,
pondering what life meant.

During the day at the Town Square
he avoided each condemning stare.
Every day at...

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(A limerick for Jack Ellison)


A surgeon was called to do operation,

as Jim's "little friends" need urgent attention.

His aspiring poetess wife

Scarlet yields a mean word knife;

To reduce sillyballs was her only intention.



*sillyballs? syllables! duh...

09 October 2015...

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He lived in a small place down by the river
Raised a few chickens and a garden to tend
Neat and clean but we knew he had little
But to us children he was a dear friend

Always ready to come play our silly games
Or happy to listen to...

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Jim the Trim’s been watching too much video
The kind that caused rise in his libido
Mind still on a femme fatale
Was brought to the hospital
His front was trapped by the doors of the Metro.






KIM PATRICE NUNEZ
10 April 2015...

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Bank robber Jim was one unlucky bloke
Went to draw his gun but the holster broke
It dropped on the bank floor
And went off with a roar
The shock was too much and he had a stroke...

Though he was unconscious he hadn't died
Woke in a coffin for his...

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1963.
I ran crying to Uncle Jim, standing by the barn door.
We hugged, and I tried to hold the smell of him,
of Vermont -- Old Spice, oatmeal, rotting leaves in crisp October air.
"Oh, kid, you and me, kid ... you and me," he said. 
But the...

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I have learned lessons
And a lesson
A lesson of love
A lesson of accountability
A lesson of trust
A lesson of Prayer 
A lesson of family
A lesson of silence
These lessons
And this lesson
Have I learned from you
I get each word 
And hold it so strong
Maybe you thought 
By teaching me...

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I think of how you must have been
in bygone days with friends from your boyhood.
From things you’ve said, I picture you back then
blazing trails and camping in the Cincinnati Wood.

And then perhaps you stood a man at seventeen
with one carnation pinned onto your suit.
Vernal still,...

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Can you see
through to his invisibility
Don’t grasp onto
who you need him to be.
Sure, he’s a bit complicated
Let him be fancy free and overstated 
If you try to hard you’ll never be sated

Change this
change that
He’ll never be that cat
Meow mix baby 
listen to him scat
His ideas...

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Beneath lie the remains of unlucky Jim
A great white shark made a meal of him
Fell off his surf board and hit by a wave
Half inside ‘Jaws’ and half in this grave.





Written on 13 September 2018

For a funny epitaph poetry contest
Sponsored by Jesse Rowe....

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Grandpa was a Bowie.
A tight-lipped protestant Ulsterman
who drifted into the Poblacht na hÉireann
in search of a cure for his cold heart.

His thin lips wed a soft Catholic girl.
He joined the Garda Síochána settling down
to breed Kerry Blue’s. After he retired, he still
wore his uniform, his...

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His “words hit the highway like a battering ram”
And “burn like the metal on the edge of a knife”
So “cold and lonely in the deep dark night” I am
“Crying icicles instead of tears” for his life

January 29, 2022...

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