"Poetry & Rhymes" by William Hancock

Posts tagged “Humor

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“Monster In My Closet !”

"Monster In My Closet !"

There’s a monster in my closet,
And he’s scary.
I think he wants my wallet,
Cause he’s staring.

I creep across the floor,
To get up near em’,
So I can shut the door,
And stop his glaring.

He’s really kind a big,
And big time hairy.
He could snap me like a twig,
While he is sneering.

The door is coming loose,
From all his tearing.
He’s got a real big tooth,
And silver earring.

I’m rolled up in a ball,
And really screaming.
My wife turns on the light,
and,.. .
“Babe!?.. . I was dreaming!”

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William Hancock © All Rights Reserved

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[ Image used:  www.morguefile.com/archive/display/765337 ]

Poem on Image: placed by; written by  William Hancock © 2014′

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“My Can of Whoop-Ass!”

"My Can of Whop-Ass!"

I keep it in my cupboard,
Out of reach of any kids,
The kitchen‘s where I keep it,
Right where I keep my meds.

Sometimes, when I go somewhere,
I put it in my pocket,
Just in case I have a need,
And not to cool my rocket!.

My Buddy, Ah,.. . My Pal,
No worries, nor even care,
My lucky charm is with me,
No one would even dare.

I never carry an opener,
The lid’s pull tab is a gas,
Like pulling a pin with teeth,
I open my can of Whoop-Ass!”

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William Hancock © All Rights Reserved

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[ Image used:  www.morguefile.com/archive/display/867608 ]

Poem on Image: placed by; written by  William Hancock © 2014′


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“Thunder Thighs!”

Thunder Thighs

In the distance,
There echoes a sound,
Of thundering thighs,
As feet hit the ground.

Leaping tall men,
In a single bound,
Faster and faster,
As she looks around

People all running,
All trying to hide,
Hoping not found,
For how hard they tried.

She’s big and mean,
And she’s had a bad day,
If she catches you,
She’ll squash you like clay.

Doors are all gone,
The windows all broke,
As she hunts the town,
For all the town folk.

Throwing bananas,
Potatoes and peas,
Hoping that this,
Is all she did need.

Suddenly a pound,
A horrible crash,
Slipping and sliding,
On all of that trash.

Amongst the people,
A whispering sound,
“What could this be,
Have we saved the town?”

In the corner,
Over by the store,
Those thundering thighs,
We’ll hear them no more.

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William Hancock © All Rights Reserved

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[ Images used:  www.morguefile.com/archive/display/55774 ]

Poem on Image: placed by; written by  William Hancock © 2014′


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“This Evil Weed”

This Evil Weed

There’s a weed, you see,
That’s in my garden,
That’s growing as big as a tree.

I’ve attacked it with blade,
With axe and a saw,
And still it’s giving me shade.

Weed killer don’t work,
Nor gasoline and flame,
I swear it’s giving me a smirk!

What to do, what to do?
I’ve even tried dynamite,
And still it’s standing so true.

Guess me and this weed,
Are stuck with each other,
or,.. .
Should I just call it a tree!?

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William Hancock © All Rights Reserved

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[ Image used:  pixabay.com/en/tree-winter-dead-nature-branches-304418 ]

Poem on Image: placed by; written by  William Hancock © 2014′


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“Hammer & Nail”

Hammer & Nail

If I were a hammer,
And you were my nail,
I’d nail you all over the place.

I’d pound you right here,
I’d pound you over there,
My hammer would never lay waste.

A pounding I’d go,
My nail would sure know,
One pound is all it would take.

I’d hold you so near,
With my hammer right here,
Know my handle will never break.

My aim would be true,
When this hammer hit you,
I would hear a For Goodness Sake!

Right into the wood,
So smoothly you would,
One swing is all I would make.

You’d never be bent,
Your purpose well spent,
You, my nail, would slam in straight.

God, a pounding I’d go,
If you were my nail,
This world yes truly would shake!

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William Hancock © All Rights Reserved

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[ Image used:  www.morguefile.com/archive/display/566486 ]

Poem on Image: placed by; written by  William Hancock © 2014′


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“Jungle Bob”

''Jungle Bob''  (2)

Into the jungle,
We hunt today,
Looking for something to eat.

In and around,
And over we go,
Thank God we have shoes on our feet.

Forks in hand,
Our knife in our teeth,
Fighting our way thru the street.

Don’t mess with me,
I’m hungry and mean,
And that dumpster I see is for ‘Me!’

A feeding frenzy,
As the bones fly,
Gobbling off all of the meat.

Go find your own,
On down the road,
Or your head will be feeling my cleat.

Get on with yourself,
So I can get busy,
This Dumpster looks pretty damn deep.

My belly now full,
I can hardly walk,
I feel like Little Bo Peep.

I need to get home,
Back thru the jungle,
So I can go catch me some sleep.

All rested again,
And a hunting I go,
It’s time to go find me more treats.

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William Hancock © All Rights Reserved

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[ Image used:  www.morguefile.com/archive/display/169587 ]

Poem on Image: placed by; written by  William Hancock © 2014′


“Are Those ‘Your’ Toes In “My’ Shoes?”

''Are Those 'Your' Toes In My Shoes''How do you do it,
Convince yourself how all this is;
The minding of someone else’s flag ship,
Like its really any and all your biz?

I’m glad you find me interesting, a dedicated fan,
For you to always be there, and truly really like;
Whether it’s all sunny out or even in pouring rain,
There you are, all over me, up and in my life.

Have you ever thought of some kind of hobby,
Something to fill in your days, and all that spare time?
It’s not as entertaining as the doing me and gawking,
Hey! ‘My’ shoes?! Are those ‘your’ toes, or mine I feel???

Yeah, you bet yah, I’m over here doing something,
Your Memo?? I’m sorry, I must have forgot to send ?!
But hey, you already knew that, from all your stalking,
You even know more than all my friends!

Try getting online, find stuff, stuff to do, like a game,.. .
Write a book, or try a poem, and of course all about me!
Or just build away, tear it up, maybe make a picture frame,
Some gardening, painting, anything but a trolling fend.

If I could, and really should, ‘Make a wish just for you‘,
Just a ‘You Wish‘, all for you, like maybe,.. . ‘Get A Life!’
Quit minding me, watch TV, do a puzzle, fix your hair,
Hey! Why don’t you, if you have one, go ‘Mind Your Wife!’

Get a hint, you troll, you peeper, your nosy, and busying,
I’m tired of always seeing you, everywhere I look, ‘you‘;
Always up in my business, more than me, I seem to think,
There’s your head, everywhere, those nosy eyes, that ear!

“You Be Careful Now!”.. .☺. .. Neighbor!!!

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William Hancock © All Rights Reserved

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“Ho-ho-ho!”

Ho-ho-ho!

Jingle Bells,
Santa smells,
Laughing all the way.

What a joy,
To annoy,
Santa, he does say.

Ho-ho-ho,
He stubbed his toe,
Now you gotta pay.

No more toys,
For girls and boys,
Not on Christmas day.

Eating candy,
Drinking brandy,
Watching kids not play.

He don’t care,
With crazy hair,
Riding in his sleigh.

Come sing with me,
Beneath the tree,
Watching it decay.

Santa’s day,
We all can say,
Laughing all the way!

“Ha-ha, Ha-ha-ha!”

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A Christmas Poem by
William Hancock © All Rights Reserved

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[ Image used:  www.morguefile.com/archive/display/57948 ]

Poem on Image:  placed by; written by  William Hancock © 2013′

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😉 Just a little Christmas humor ) 😉

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“Land of Nod”

Land of Nod

In the Land of Nod,
Where everyone would nod,
Always trying to stay awake.

They would bubble a bubble,
Staying out of trouble,
Not caring how long it would take.

They would write about this,
And give it a twist,
Always worried they would make a mistake.

Their heads sometimes throbbing,
With all of that bobbing,
And thinking how much they could make.

At the end of the day,
With a nod they would say,
For goodness and heavens sake.

Was it worth all of that,
And the hours they sat,
‘Of course’ with their heads they would shake.

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by
William Hancock © All Rights Reserved

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[ Image used:  www.morguefile.com/archive/display/687592 ]

Poem on Image:  placed by; written by  William Hancock © 2013


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“A Pea On The Floor”

Pea On The Floor

Hearing a noise,
More like a pound,
The eeriness,
Of such a sound.

I open the door,
And what do I see?
There’s a Leprechaun,
Staring up at me.

“What do you want,”
I ask of him?
He looks and stares,
With a big ol’ grin.

Running right past,
Between my legs,
Into the kitchen,
To steal my eggs.

Up and down,
In and around,
All over the place,
As he goes to town.

He’s got my eggs,
My chicken and roast,
And even my milk,
Including my toast.

Zooming past,
And out my door,
All he left,
Was A Pea On The Floor.

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William Hancock © All Rights Reserved

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[ Image used:  www.morguefile.com/archive/display/126042 ]

Poem on Image:  placed by; written by  William Hancock © 2013′