"Poetry & Rhymes" by William Hancock

Posts tagged “Rhyme

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“Once There Was A Site”

"Once There Was A Site"

Once there was a light,
Such a beautiful ‘Site‘,
Where people would write,
Late into the night;

Writing about fights,
And men of might,
Of insect bites,
And fishing for pike;

Of stars so bright,
And birds in flight,
Of boots too tight,
While taking a hike;

And flying kites,
Reaching great heights,
Riding bikes,
And colors not white;

Of things in sight,
Plants with blight,
Of all that’s right,
And even a grip.

Yeah,.. .
Once there was a ‘Site’,
It’s light burned bright,
Where people would write,
Late into the night;

‘Twas a beautiful ‘Site’ indeed.

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William Hancock © All Rights Reserved

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[ Image used:  pixabay.com/en/writing-journal-paper-letter-427527 ]

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

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“Hoppety, Dockety, Dickety, Toc!”

"Hoppety, Dockety, Dickety, Toc!"

Hoppety, dockety, dickety, toc,
Roaches, and mice, crawling on my clock.

Itchy, icky,
Nasty little creeps,
Crawling, slogging,
Finding things to eat.

In and around,
Up and down,
Watch those little boogers,
As they go to town.

Hoppety, dockety, dickety,
Toc!

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William Hancock © All Rights Reserved

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[ Image used:  www.morguefile.com/archive/display/889889 ]

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


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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′


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“Super Dud!”

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Super duper,
Is his name,
What a trooper,
All the same.

Super hero,
Flying high,
Striking zero,
Every time.

Wonder dude,
Some might say,
High on ludes,
Every day.

No more worries,
He don‘t care,
Never hurries,
Eyes a glare.

No story here,
Or life to tell,
Drinking beer,
And drugs to sell.

Friends all gone,
A family lost,
A switch left on,
What a cost.

It’s all a blur,
An empty hole,
Nothing’s sure,
Except your blow.

Remember this,
You super dud,
The life you missed,
. .. … …. ….. With a Thud!

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William Hancock © All Rights Reserved

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[ Image Used:  www.morguefile.com/archive/display/176912 ]

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


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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 ) 😉