Best Half A Dozen Poems
Slowly the curtains parted a head peeps out
Dressed as a small child so lifelike
Can see the strings working the arms
In a disjointed fashion
But the eyes.....
the eyes looked dead
The puppet danced.
Drummed...played keyboard
So lifelike it was scary
The show had been running about half hour
When the strings slumped
The puppet slid effortlessly to the floor
Legs askew and arms folded
The puppeteer, made some comment
Slid the curtains closed something made me look
To my horror, could see the man
Slapping the puppet shouting loudly
Then the puppets eyes opened
He looked straight at me
Could see the pain in its eyes
The pleading for help.
When the police arrested the puppeteer
They found this dwarf figure of a man
He was the puppet.
Locked away were half a dozen more
Drugged into a deep sleep.
So next time you watch a puppet show
The puppets may look lifelike
Take a closer look, cos it just might be
They are.
Categories:
half a dozen, imagination, drug,
Form:
Verse
Blessed with ingenuity, he fought advancing tyranny
That stormed the sea in twenty-three great warships sailing furiously.
That day, October twenty-first, saw Admiral Nelson at his worst,
As cannons roared, while gunners cursed. The times were changed, the tides reversed.
Lord Nelson, as an admiral brave with all his fleet defied the grave,
His native land and king to save:-- his life for freedom's cause he gave.
In but a half a dozen hours he humbled Europe's finest pow'rs,
And toppled Tyranny's highest tow'rs; yet Vict'ry found him crowned with flow'rs,
And not a place the crown to lay, on him, nor all who died that day
In sending Britain's foes away, across the stormy seas of grey.
Categories:
half a dozen, courage, england, freedom, hero,
Form:
Couplet
Oh, little sister, just remember what I've said
Don't you worry 'bout those monsters, hiding underneath your bed
They think they got me scared
Like a frightened little boy
But I got some news for them
I just bought some brand new toys
I have a super soaker, that's filled with holy water
And a Nerf Gun that I nick-name, Welcome to the slaughter
And a GI-Joe, will back me up, he swears he won't retreat
But I had to promise him, plastic's not what monsters eat
And of course I have the Marvels, Spidey,Iron,and good old Thor
The four Fantastic people, and a half a dozen more
But, if they fail their mission, doing everything they can
I promise little sister, I'll be there to hold your hand
by Jerry T Curtis 2014
Categories:
half a dozen, halloween,
Form:
Rhyme
It was Christmas Eve and growing late;
This was the last of his paid Santa dates.
Still dressed in his red Santa gear,
He stepped inside to have a beer.
One pint soon turned into two,
Then half a dozen before the hour was through.
Nobody was waiting at home for him,
So he chased the beer with three shots of gin.
He stumbled outside the neighborhood bar;
His one bedroom apartment was not too far.
He started walking on unstable feet,
When a father and a young daughter he happened to meet.
“I wonder, Santa, if you can help us out;
My little Sarah is starting to have some doubt.
She told me tonight in her hospital bed,
That she thinks Christmas and Santa both are dead.”
“I snuck her out of her hospital room;
We were really lucky to find you so soon.
Could you please give her just one good reason
To still believe in the holiday season?”
He took a deep breadth of the cold winter air;
Even drunk he could feel the father’s despair.
He simply put his finger to the side of his nose
And let out three hardy, “Ho, ho, ho’s”.
“If you’re the real Santa,” she challenged him,
“Then what is my Christmas wish?”
“If he’s the real Santa,” she said to her Dad,
“He could give me my Christmas gift.”
Charlie looked at the father for a clue
He shrugged, not knowing what to say,
Somehow in an instant Charlie knew
And he answered Sarah in this way:
“You didn’t wish for toys or other things,
The way other kids do when they come to my place.
You just want your father to look at you
Without a sad look upon his face.”
She turned to her father and said through tears,
“I’m sorry Dad, I didn’t mean to make you sad.
But you really did find me Santa Claus,
This is the best Christmas I ever had.”
Charlie turned to the father and softly said,
“Now, I think it’s time you take her back.
Either way, things are going to be okay,
You need to accept that as a matter of fact.”
Charlie was left standing all alone,
As snowflakes started to fall.
In his loudest voice he shouted out,
“Merry Christmas and Good-night to all.”
Categories:
half a dozen, holiday, inspirationalchristmas, father, me,
Form:
Rhyme
Blue Jays and Black birds and half a dozen squirrels.
Sprinkled with Sparrow's, it's become quite a world.
Occasional Cardinal to add a little spice.
They seem to all be getting along fairly nice.
The neighbor, he feeds them plenty of food.
It seems it is working, they've become quite a brood.
As long as the house is buttoned up tight.
They're not a problem, I sleep fine at night.
Out in the front, a chipmunk does play.
Scurrying around and having it's way.
A Robin or two might ruffle their feathers.
I wouldn't change a thing if I had my druthers.
It feels like I'm blessed to have such a mess.
Nothing to do but enjoy it, I guess.
God certainly does have mysterious ways.
How he shows us his love in these warm summer days.
Categories:
half a dozen, nature,
Form:
Rhyme
Crazy Mick the Irishman, with trademark bike and overcoat,
wheeling his way back into town, classed as a tarnished silly goat.
His hair was long and curly; spoken words barely understood.
His manner gave impression he's up to no flamin’ good.
Shopkeepers grew an extra eye toward their advertised outside,
watching Mick out on the street as up and down he'd ride.
This man was on outcast; different to the folks they know,
a little dirty; is a vagrant, and he acts a little slow.
Mick’s first stop the butchers shop; bargained for a ‘snag’ or two.
The butcher he felt pity, so threw in an extra few.
This pleased Mick no end as he left the butchers door.
His feast was quick and final; ate the meat been given raw.
The pub through past experience had little time for Mick,
for beer became his nemesis; urged forward his fighting trick.
Too many times Mick’s antics had forced him to the street,
with bloodied nose, blackened eye; always getting beat.
Compromising was the bottle sale - take half a dozen and then go.
Sit over by the railway line and then drink them nice and slow.
Young kids without feelings teased Mick in his toxic state,
laughing as he chased them, for he'd stagger and gyrate.
When Mick disappeared, our town wondered where he went.
Had he found a home! Had he died! Where has his time been spent!
It seems in potato season when the pickers were required,
Mick was slogging in the paddocks where potato tops had died.
The 'swampy' people honoured Mick, for he had no fear of sweat.
He'd bend his back the furthest; earnt the spud farmer’s respect.
They saw a different person than the townie’s man un-trusted.
Hard working in the hot sun; not the drunk so often busted.
Mick perished one cold winter, alone inside a pickers shack.
Long after picking season ended, so what had brought him back?
He must have known his life was ebbing; left for where he felt no shame.
Spud farmers heads bowed 'round his grave - but not one townie came.
Categories:
half a dozen, discrimination,
Form:
Rhyme
SPORTS INJURIES
I come in at number seven for Wanoona cricket club,
to face the bowlers from Dargetta, a mob from out the scrub.
I was doing pretty good, right up ‘til I was forty-four,
and then a bouncer dropped me cold, so I couldn’t bat no more.
My world was spinning ‘round in circles; I’m in a gyrating waltz,
until confronted with the first aid box and the evil smelling salts.
I was feeling like the morning after a night out on the grog,
and with nine down and six runs needed, I’m back batting in a fog.
Just hold your end up urged my partner; he’ll knock off the needed runs,
but I kept seeing two balls coming, as if they’re fired from guns.
Dargetta showed no sympathy, they still bowled at quite a pace,.
When another bouncer got me; me nose was splattered ‘cross me face.
This time it was more serious, the first aid box was useless now,
for a broken nose and flowing blood, needs more than they allow,
so it’s off to to the outpatients, to see if they can fix my nose.
I held a towel up to my face, and blood covered all my clothes.
I booked in to see a doctor, but then sat out in the foyer,
and half a dozen people passed and suggest I see a lawyer,
then a bloke who’s anxious joined me, and so for what it’s worth.
I watched him pacing up and down as if his wife is giving birth.
He was dressed in golf attire, so had come straight there from the course.
I tried to calm him down a mite and seek out to find the source,
of this fellows agitation and why he’s in this panic state,
but when a nurse confronted him, I heard about his nervous wait.
The nurse asked the bloke if he’s okay and heard his shaken quote.
“My golfing mate needs to remove me golf ball, driven down his throat.
He’s being operated on right now”, and then I heard him drawl.
‘I hope they’re bloody careful, and don’t do damage to my ball.’
Categories:
half a dozen, humor,
Form:
Rhyme
I’d mowed me lawn and chopped the wood, I’d even done some weeding,
And when I told the ‘missus’, she said, “Oh gosh my heart is bleeding”.
‘Okay then’ I sort of thought, her smart remark needs a reply,
So I grabbed a dozen stubbies and didn’t even say goodbye.
I didn’t really feel like drinking, down at the river on me own,
So I pondered as I drove around, who might be home alone,
Well ‘round and ‘round the town I went, trying to contrive,
On who might need a morning beer. Next thing I’m in Beechey’s drive!
I’d just caught ‘Bee’ in fact for he was walking out his door,
But when I held up a stubby, where ‘Bee’s’ going he’s not sure,
For he’s got a choice of knocking down a half a dozen beers,
Or surrender to his loving wife, whose been drumming in his ears.
‘Bee’ said if he took the top off one he won’t know when to stop,
And he had to get some birdseed for his budgies at the pet shop,
So I put the stubbies in the fridge, and joined ‘Bee’ for company,
While we went to get his bird seed, and satisfy his Mrs. ‘Bee’.
We walked amongst the parrots and zebra finches in their cages,
Hearing red canaries whistle that I hadn’t heard for ages,
Guinea Pigs were hiding in the straw; mice tumbled on a wheel.
‘Bee’ shook hands with the owner, who was his mate I feel.
‘Bee’ didn’t have to ask for seed, the bloke knew its budgie food,
So they started telling dirty yarns and some of them were crude.
All the while they made me laugh, then the owner said to ’Bee’,
“I’ve got to duck down to the bank, can you watch the shop for me!”
A little girl of maybe five made her entrance through the door,
And she carried in a shoebox that she placed upon the floor,
Then with the sweetest little voice that only angels could address,
She asked ‘Bee’ if he kept rabbits, and of course the answers yes.
‘Bee’ led the girl down to the hutch, to find a ‘bunny’ now for her.
Was it a pretty brown one? Or a cuddly white angora!
Or would she like a ginger one, or one white and black and buff.
The little girl just gave a shrug “My python couldn’t give a stuff”.
©2002 Lindsay Laurie
Categories:
half a dozen, humor,
Form:
Rhyme
On Monday I tried to call you but no one was home.
On Tuesday I walked to your home and rang the doorbell.
There was no answer.
On Wednesday I baked you some cookies thinking it would cheer you up.
I ended up eating half a dozen or so.
On Thursday I walked back to your house and you were dead on the floor.
I was shocked. I lost my breath as I stood there over your cold body. How did this happen? I didn’t even see it coming. My heart was grieved and all I could do was sit there petting your dog. I began to pray and ask the Lord what happened to you, my dear friend. How did I not see this coming? I felt as though I had been the world’s worst best friend.
I looked back on my friendship with Kate. It spanned a period of seventy years. We were best friends in kindergarten and we even shared a few boyfriends along the way. We used to skip rocks in the creek and capture tadpoles with our bare hands. Where did the time go?
I knew she suffered from depression. She had many demons in her closet. She even had other people’s demons in her closet too. She had a heart as big as Texas and the jolliest laugh. She used to cook up the meanest spaghetti meals. The days have come and gone like a fast approaching winter. Now I sit on her front porch sipping hot cocoa. I reminisce of the days of gold-of the days of old.
I tried to walk in her shoes one day. It’s just an expression. I tried to shoulder her burdens and carry her messed up marriage and disobedient children on my back. It was too heavy to carry. Years of abuse, broken dreams, empty beer cans, overeating. Her pain was too intense to fathom. I tried to help her to see how much she needed Jesus and she would just sit there and grin.
One day she said to me, “How do you think I’ve made it this far?” I knew she was saying that Jesus was her best friend, so I spoke about her endurance at the funeral. I was the second person to read a eulogy. I knew one thing. The eulogy that I wrote blessed everyone in attendance. They loved her and wanted her to return. I spoke of the good days and reflected on the life of my kindergarten friend. I looked around the room and intently listened to each eulogy. I walked in her shoes once again.
gwendolen rix
9-16-15
Categories:
half a dozen, best friend, farewell, feelings,
Form:
Prose
Out sightseeing in an old town one day
Casually strolling passing many shops and sites
I suddenly passed a bar window
And what I saw gave me a thrill and I saw a great site
For there perched on a stool pretty and pert
Was the most gorgeous girl
With a very short skirt
That rode high
Giving me a lovely view of her stocking tops
Long legs and lovely thigh
She was talking to a guy
I casually walked back and forth
Past the window around half a dozen times
Just to make sure they were alright
Had a great day that day and saw a few sites
That stuck in my mind when I got home that night
But I could have kicked myself you see
Just my luck to see one lucky guy
I wished was me.
Peter Dome.Copyright.2015 May.
Categories:
half a dozen, beautiful, fantasy, girl, sexy,
Form:
Free verse
The Perfect Omelet
I think I'd like an omelet
so please find me a giant pot,
a half a dozen fresh kumquat
and don't forget the cheese.
Add a jar of jumping fleas,
2 cans of fancy black-eyed-peas,
do not add pepper, or I'll sneeze
and don't forget the beans.
Stir it often, add sardines,
a couple cups of jelly beans,
a bag of Florida tangerines
and don't forget the beets.
Just when it bubbles, add snake meat
and feathers of a parakeet,
a spoon of honey to make it sweet
and don't forget frog legs.
Add some peppermint, two kegs,
a weasel raised in Winnipeg
and most importantly, I beg,
don't forget the eggs.
What's that you say, no eggs today?
I guess I'll put this pot away!
I'd like an omelet the most.
Guess I'll settle for some toast!
Categories:
half a dozen, children, fantasy, food, funny,
Form:
Rhyme
There’s a billy on the open fire
Piles of beech wood by the door
Smokey stains adorn the iron roof
Wax drips on bench and floor.
Old cobwebs drape the windows
Dog-eared cards upon a shelf
The half a dozen Readers Digests
Will fill the evening by yourself.
Outside the rain is pouring down
As you brew your cup of tea
A candle betrays a subtle draft
But you're warm and quite comfy.
Bunks line against a single wall
You see where mice have chewed
Checking socks upon the mantelpiece
Again enjoying the pleasing mood.
As you sign within the guestbook
A chance to read the travellers tales
Of epic journeys, in stunning land
Huge success and classic fails.
Lives saved by simple shelter
To casual stops along the track
Unplanned stays for many a day
Seen as palace, a villa, and shack.
And to you this place is special
It’s a place you just adore.
And though you’ve never visited,
You know you've been in here before.
*The NZ Department of Conservation manages a network of over 950 huts of all shapes and sizes. They provide unique places to stay, refuge from bad weather, or rest and recover while experiencing the great outdoors.
Categories:
half a dozen, beautiful, environment, feelings, tribute,
Form:
Rhyme
Keeping a Secret
By Elton Camp
Whatever you tell me will assuredly be secure.
That I might spread it around you need not fear.
No matter what the temptation, my lips are sealed.
Your deepest, darkest secret will never be revealed.
Oh, so you took your blond-haired secretary out a date?
With her looks, I can see why your wife would be irate.
I’ve noticed how she dresses when at work.
It’s easy to see why she’d drive you berserk.
You didn’t do something really vile.
At least it seems she’s not with child.
As long as you never take her out again,
There’s no reason your marriage need end.
It’s best to give your secretary the axe.
With her out of the way, you can relax.
Take my good advice and never tell a soul.
It’ll never be learned by your wife Nicole.
Keeping quiet was easy enough for a while,
But when I thought of it, I’d have to smile.
He won’t object if I only tell my wife.
We share everything we learn in life.
So I told it to her and she didn’t stop
Until she reached the old beauty shop.
“Hey, girls, while Sue’s fixing your hair
I have some juicy gossip I want to share.”
It was heard by a half a dozen.
And one was Nicole’s cousin.
Such treachery she couldn’t abet.
Nicole learned it before the sun set.
The result then, of course,
A messy and angry divorce.
Remember what Benjamin Franklin said:
“Three can keep a secret if two are dead.”
Categories:
half a dozen, funnywife,
Form:
Rhyme
Remembering has always been easier for me than trying to forget something that l am ashamed of.I love to remember all those lavish southern meals you laid out for everyone across the years.The holidays were your forte with crystal serving dishes, and crystal water,whine, and whiskey glasses.Demitasse cups of porcelain for Italian coffee on occasion. ;and tiny glass spoons to distribute salt upon your food.My God you truly were the last of the southern bells.The first and last in my life anyway.You the five foot ,four inch package of dynamite holding your own on horseback or face to face confrontation with anyone who dared to cross your path. Then late at night for me alone you where the passion of my dreams. I want to be leave your waiting for me some where in time so I can show you how much weight I've lost cooking for myself.God I love you so much and l wish to God I could forget the half a dozen times I made you cry.I know you've forgiven me ,but I'll never forgive myself.
Categories:
half a dozen, love,
Form:
Blank verse
We were much too old to trick-or-treat,
But still wanted to have some fun;
So as the neighborhood high school kids
We just terrorized everyone.
We walked around and bothered kids;
Making them give us some of their candy,
And smashed many a jack-o-lantern
Against any surface that was handy.
We thought that we were, oh, so cool,
Acting mightily and tough;
But the fun provided by our small neighborhood,
Just was not enough.
So we ventured outside of our plat;
Walking down the country road;
Going to the old farmer’s house,
Looking for trouble’s mother lode.
Lights were off inside the house,
Just the light on the pole by the barn;
But at least a dozen pumpkins carved
With candle lights still flickering on.
We approached the porch attentively,
With smashing on our minds;
When all of a sudden trouble met us,
But of a different kind.
Out of the barn staggered the old man
With a cleaver stuck in his head;
Being followed by half a dozen zombies
Like the night of the living dead!
Blood was spurting everywhere
As he yelled, “Run, save your lives!”
When we turned to run, out of the ground
Rose another zombie with devil eyes.
We dropped the candy we had stolen,
And all of us wet our pants;
As we ran in circles, jumping about
In a terrorized, frightened dance.
As we ran down the road back to our homes
With tears running down our eyes,
We heard the farmers hooting and laughing;
Shouting – “Happy Halloween Surprise”!
Categories:
half a dozen, holidayold, halloween, old, high
Form:
Rhyme