| Some more of my Poetry: |
| The Soldiers When we were going to the island called Crete, We had to be very discreet, Because spies had been placed on every street, Our enemy there we had to defeat. Our contact there we had to meet, And when we did he came to greet The soldiers and our pet parakeet, While we hid there in the wheat. We had to travel in the heat, Only stopping to get a bite to eat, Which was when we all took a seat And ate some pieces of pre-cooked meat. When it rained it came down in a giant sheet, We were glad it wasn't sleet, Even though it did soak our feet, And it made us feel quite beat. We heard the birds going tweet, tweet, tweet, Which was to us quite a treat. A few days later in came a naval fleet We then knew that we had done a great feat. The End |
| Tom Thumb There once was a man named Tom Thumb, He was no taller than a plumb. A meal for him was just a crumb, He lived in the nearby atrium. His favorite song he liked to hum, While he played on his little drum, And other times he just chewed gum, While writing on a sheet of vellum. Do not think that he was dumb, He often spoke at the medical forum, All about the wonders of the cranium, The forum was held at a nearby stadium. He was a featured speaker at the history museum, While he was standing on top of a podium. He would talk all about the eardrum, And show some pictures he kept in an album. To find him you must go to Belgium, It will take you 10 hours maximum, And also half an hour minimum, Just remember to bring him a bottle of rum. THE END |
| Joe Schmoe There once was a man named Joe, Whose last name happened to be Schmoe. He lived in a house in a Meadow, In a place called Sleepy Hollow. His house was the color yellow, And he lived with his best friend's widow. They also had a pet crow, Who loved to eat cookie dough. Joe had a brother named Moe, Who always carried a pillow, Because, you see, he was a little slow, But he didn't want anyone to know. Every week Joe put on a show About a deer named Jane the doe. To the show many people would go, And they would sit down row after row. Joe and Moe liked to play in the snow, Many snowballs they would throw Their throws were often too low, But sometimes they would hit someone's elbow. At night the snow seemed to glow, Whenever the wind started to blow, Like in the spring when the streams would flow, And all of the flowers would begin to grow. That is the tale of my friend Joe, But right now I want to play my oboe, And dream of times long ago, While I watch my favorite show. The end |
| A Man Named Pip There once was a guy named Philip, Who worked on a restaurant on a ship. Most customers called him Pip, But they usually skipped his tip. One day he put turnips on a chip, Along with tulips, dip, and cool whip, While on a long trip, And people have started to gossip. Then Pip took a long trip, And started selling scrip, After selling each slip, his bag he'd unzip, And now people think he is hip. The chips drove them crazy as cats to catnip, It was him they would equip With big long supply strips, Just to get some of his chips. Pip is now often found to quip, He never loses his grip, Nor does he bite his lip, But he does often do flips. Champagne he is now known to sip, Off his lip it has been seen to drip, Sometimes he only drinks a nip, And his food he often snips. He holds his papers in a clip, So that they will never rip, And even though he is only a blip, He is now owner of the ship. The End |
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