Best Knockers Poems
It looks like a simple brownstone building,
Not much different then any other but it’s residents,
Are of the haunted kind, not made of flesh and bone.
In every window a wind chime stirs, gently caressed by
A chilling winds icy finger tips, after all this is known as
The house of spirits.
Witchery or voodoo’s domain, it is a place of salvation for
Spiritual challenged, listen to the beautiful music they make,
Singing within this their walled cage of brick and mortar, these
Ethereal victims lost.
Here in peace they wait for the light to find them, a waiting chamber,
Of the lords misstep souls, those whom walked off the righteous path,
Yet are not without redemptions wanton of need.
Wanders of limbo’s astral plain, seekers whom roam blindly until
Finding a doorway threshold, then crossing over, into this the house
Of spirits.
A corridors slender passageway, a way stations layover for those tired
And weary travelers to rest until their final journey’s end comes for them,
Sanctuaries power house of the supernatural.
Behind these red doors dare not the mortal flesh clasp the gilded knockers,
For within are things of the unspoken variety, creature protectors waiting at
Bay for the stray intruder to wander forth upon this sacred ground.
Angels kindred brethren whom seek out evil, destroyers patrolling the
Darker shadows for night stalkers whom wish to feast upon the forsaken.
But light’s white power is a mightier force to be reckoned with, and vanquished
Will the devils spawn into the depths from which they came, into the bowels
Of hell shall these demons be thrown into the blackened pit from which they came?
In the twilight’s ethereal hour, a mid-ways breaking point between light and dark,
A shimmering glow strikes this standing watch tower of abandonment’s forgotten,
And heaven’s flood gates are opened unto them, calling these the lost upwards
Towards nirvana and at last know true peace.
It looks like a simple brownstone building,
Not much different then any other but it’s residents.
Are of the haunted kind, not made of flesh and bone.
In every window a wind chime stirs, gently caressed by
A chilling winds icy finger tips, after all this is known as
The house of spirits.
BY; CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Categories:
knockers, evil, fantasy, fear, god,
Form:
Free verse
Breasts, boobies, knockers, **** – call them what you will
We are talking about breast cancer – and sadly it can kill
The key to success with catching the disease is early detection
Remember boobies aren’t just funbags to give a fella an ********
Breasts can be appreciated in the their own unique way
Have a feel for lumps make it a sexy game to play
Let him ‘cop a feel’ and if a lump you do detect
Go straight to the GP - this lump you mustn’t neglect
It can be simply that you have lumpy boobs or a cyst
It’s not necessarily cancer but it can be on the list
The GP will send you for a mammogram or scan
Mammograms aren’t comfy, staff do it as quickly as they can
Hopefully the results will put your mind at rest
But sadly sometimes it shows cancer of the breast
Early detection is the key to beating this cancer
Regular mammograms really are the answer
Don’t forget about the men they have pecs or moobs
They can get breast cancer too we are talking about ALL boobs
Jan Allison
17th October 2014
October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month, which is an annual campaign to increase awareness of the disease – remember breast cancer affects both males and females with 1 in 1000 males being diagnosed with breast cancer
Categories:
knockers, cancer,
Form:
Couplet
I can no longer hold my tongue
I’ve got my knockers and my mockers
Oh, and I can’t forget the blockers
So you badmouth me on FB behind my back
Let rip with your vitriol and go on the attack
With your false humility and humble claims
You are chock full of bull crap, playing games
Well…
I’m telling you this
Stop taking the piss
Here is my butt. I'd be remiss
if I didn't offer it for you to kiss
Go ahead skunk; make my day
release your stinking spray!
Oh, there's just one thing I have to say...
I don’t do 'two-faced book' anyway!
Judgmental people and haters contest
sponsored by Brenda Chiri
A note to whoever is being so nasty to Robert … you must be jealous of his talent for writing poetry and you should be ashamed of your behaviour!
08-11-17
Categories:
knockers, abuse, bullying, hate, internet,
Form:
Rhyme
Your rhyme reads like a rap they say,
a rap I say,
a rap they say,
perhaps but rap is rhyme you see,
it's rhyme really,
it's rhyme you see,
this poem is not lyrical,
no not at all,
not lyrical,
'cus songs use words repeatedly,
repeat you see,
repeatedly.
We'll use that as the chorus,
it's easy and thoughtless,
lets build a rhyme fortress
with verse summersaultus,
not a word but I don't care,
eating apples grapes and pears,
seeking angles of praise from flair,
story starts now take a chair.
Out in public with clothes removed,
I've had this dream but now it's true,
a dude that's nude and on the move,
without a pube all in plain view,
swing it like a helicopter,
round and round 'til someone stops ya,
grab some weed and party poppers,
run down streets to dart from coppers,
drinking aftershock that shocks ya,
always after the shot has docked ya,
stick your head between some knockers,
wake up thick lipped at the doctors.
(Chorus)
Write it like a conversation,
it might give it a new dimension,
in that last verse you forced the rhyme,
of course that's fine in this rap rhyme,
'cus rap is rhyme it's rhyme they rap,
that is a fact a fact is that,
by it's nature rap is rhyme,
if it reads like a rap then it reads like a rhyme,
does that mean always rhyme is rap,
of course it isn't it's less than that,
now that sounds mean,
what do you mean,
rap rhymes are rhymes and rap,
rhymes just rhyme they're not rap,
well what's this verse then is it rap?
No my friend this verse is crap,
I hope they remember this is a conversation,
they're not reading you lost their attention.
(Chorus)
A third verse now this is long winded,
it's forced and pointless poets cringing,
get back to the story,
now you were knocked out,
yes and I remember nowt,
then what the hell's this rhyme about,
it's like a selfie with lips that pout,
no one cares except the poser,
that means no one notes the nose hair,
wrap this up it's going nowhere,
rap it up like you're a rapper,
this poem keeps on getting crapper,
no one's read as far as here,
in this worse rhyme you've wrote all year,
at least it flows like hip hop songs,
it flows with flow its flow is strong,
to flow like this use words not long,
here's the chorus lets sing along.
(Chorus)
it reads like a hip hop
POTD 17/10/2018
Categories:
knockers, hip hop, humor, humorous,
Form:
Rhyme
Dear Santa,
As you may well know,
it's tights and not stockings that are all the go.
So, with no stockings to hang on the bedstead,
would a pair of my bloomers be OK instead?
I'll sew up the legs so that there is more space,
can't have my gifts falling all over the place.
I hope you don't mind, as my wine you consume,
please try to be silent when entering my room.
I'm a light sleeper and at my age, which is quite a pain,
if I lose too much sleep, then it addles my brain.
You may kiss me sweetly if I'm in deep slumber
mistletoe on my pillow, plus telephone number.
I promise to leave you a home-made mince pie,
though the pastry's gone soggy
'cause the onions made me cry.
Myopia means recipes I really struggle to see
though onion in mince pies' is a new one on me.
But the pies are quite tasty as I'm sure you'll agree
and if you're still hungry, then have two or three!
There's a drop of fine whisky which you may try too,
bought by my late husband circa 1952
'twas in an old bottle I found in the shed
my hubby drank most of it afore dropping dead.
I think you're so special, dear old Santa Claus,
now here's what I would like you to leave in my drawers:.
1. A pretty box - so I may store my false teeth so neat,
so I can find 'em when I gets me something to eat.
2. A walking frame 'cause I am liable to fall,
and falling, alas, does you no good at all.
3. Some California Poppy, as supplies now seem so short,
if this scent can't be found I will smell like a horse.
4. A pair of big knockers, for front and back door.
A warm cosy nighty, don't need see-throughs no more.
5. Get me a back scratcher, please, if you can,
I can't scratch that itch since I lost me old man.
6. Also an emergency underwear kit,
as nowadays there's times when I don't quite make it.
7. If you have a big dog, leave it in the back yard,
I'll treat quite kindly, if me it will guard.
Thats all the gifts on my Christmas wish list,
but I'll settle for more Santa, if you insist.
I haven't been naughty for many a year,
when awaking, I expect all my gifts to be here!
Merry Christmas!
Looby Loo x
* * *
Christmas 2020
Categories:
knockers, christmas, desire, fun, giving,
Form:
Rhyme
We do not see Jesus on a float,
in the big Thanksgiving Day parade.
Nor in a shopping mall handing out,
cheap Toys that child laborers have made.
You don’t see giant Jesus blow ups,
bobbing around out on people’s lawn.
He’s not parked in his sleigh upon the roof,
with a hundred bright flashing lights on.
They don’t sell you Jesus door knockers,
napkin holders or pepper shakers.
He does not drink Coke with polar bears,
or pose with kids for picture takers.
Was pretty easy to figure out,
why kids like Santa more than Jesus.
Because his advertisement firm has learned,
instant satisfaction will please us.
What four-year old kid will want to wait,
‘til he dies to go to paradise.
They just want to open their present,
and eating cookies for breakfast might be nice.
If Jesus wants to be a big hit,
he will need to go on to TV.
Ride a unicycle down Main street,
while shouting out Ho! Ho! Ho! with glee.
Categories:
knockers, poetry,
Form:
Rhyme
ISEYIN MY TOWN
If you don't know,
'Emi lomo ISEYIN ORO
'Oro omo EBEDI MOKO.
I know my town, I love my town,
I celebrate my town, as great town to everyone, I praise my town, and I cheer my town,
and I try to spread its fame,
ISEYIN!_ISEYIN!!
'Ilu eye kiki aponle,
'ibi ti oju ti buni toju enu lo
'bere ki o towoo.
I trust my town with his pride
I boost my town, and I want to do my part,
To make Iseyin praised, from the depth of every heart,
ILU MOKI
ISEYIN oro-Omo Ebedi moko
'nibi ti ewe nje ariyeke
'ti popo nje belewo
'ti igi nje oluwaran
'ti agbado ojo nje topabodi,
please let me sing this town .
And preach it to my people,
as I think my fellow should do,
Am very proud of you my town,
I want to help you rise,
to be d finest city, as
side of Paradise.
'Eni ban fe aso 'tata
'ti ile Yoruba
'ki o kori si ISEYIN,
'nibi won ti hun gida ninu Aso-Ofi.
All ISEYIN SON(s)
it's good thing to get together,
to make a great big show for our great town.
Good bye to all the knockers,
and welcome to booste crowd,
let get out and hustle,
for a big and better town,
ISEYIN.
ABIODUN OM'BADA OMO ISEYIN ORO
Categories:
knockers, africa, allegory, thanksgiving, together,
Form:
Bio
Horn Hiaku Triplet of Downton Abbey
Between you and me
Her knockers could hardly see
What a way to be.
She seemed to extreme
With no features that redeem
Part of a bad dream.
Bra was twenty-two
And more pounds lost quite a few
Which was end of you.
She set rapid pace
Did disappear into space
We could not replace
Were delirious
After many more queries
Had stopped whole series.
Wife sure was crabby
Now no more Downton Abbey
Stopped being happy.
I was even starting to like it.
James Thesarious Hilarious Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
Categories:
knockers, allegory, analogy, humorous,
Form:
Haiku
You called me a smartass, and this I must confess,
it’s better than that other part it seems that you know best.
Your better half you called your man and this seems sensible,
A donkey and a horse must breed to make a jackass whole.
Understand this now you shrew my punches I won’t pull,
I’d rather be a smartass than a dumbass for a fool.
You thought the grass was greener over on the other side,
Well I suppose no one will care where heifer’s choose abide.
Upon mature reflection I should thank you on my knees
The girls tell me I’ve aged like wine and you… well then there’s cheese.
Now now don’t get all upset I’m sure he loves you girl,
Just be prepared: those knee-knockers? They’re gonna make him hurl.
Categories:
knockers, anger, angst, break up,
Form:
Couplet
Apple brought culture,
delightful extravaganza.
Fab group
harvest idiomatic jive.
Knockers, louts
many neutrals,
organized parasites, quietly rebel,
submit to uncompromising venom
when expediency yielded zealousness!
© Harry J Horsman 1994
Categories:
knockers, music,
Form:
ABC
Tribute
You are a wonderful human being and a man of many talents Jack Ellison for all your many achievements.
Age is only number - your charismatic persona and optimism shines through your poems.
I’m honored to be your friend. Thanks for your poem ‘An Aussie Sweetie’ and for the Laughs.
Weather forecast Sydney Bondi Beach tomorrow…
Hot, Sunny with a ‘slight swell’.
So still on in front of the Bondi Beach Pavilion tomorrow?
Oops! I hope I don’t get you into trouble with this one!
Enjoy our musical greeting from the late and great Aussie - Slim Dusty in true Oz style.
Such a wealth of talent this Cool guy Jack
Lives in freezing temperatures and that’s a fact
Dreams of a hot Aussie beach to re-enact
In the Land Down Under his ardour asunder
He pops a popper to celebrate the wonder
Of ‘Knockers’ galore and for sure naught a lack
Oh Glorious Days! His libido is back
A song by Slim Dusty ‘G'day G'day’ – inspired by the great ‘land down under’ - Australia
Categories:
knockers, tribute,
Form:
Rhyme
Lady Godiva wasn't trying to be cute
When she went for that ride in her birthday suit.
It was her husband's taxes she protested,
All butt naked and bare-breasted,
She only did as he'd suggested, so any argument was moot.
The townsfolk of Coventry were warned not to peek,
And no lecherous looks at the lady to seek.
But one sneak did succumb,
Later called "Peeping Tom",
And was struck blind and dumb 'cause his morals were weak.
When Lady G. returned home, she re-braided her tresses,
Re-robed and prepared for her hubby's redresses.
But he didn't rebuke her for going out starkers
Or for publicly displaying bush, bum, and knockers,
And, though truly chagrined, he rescinded his taxation excesses.
Categories:
knockers, history, humor,
Form:
Light Verse
In a limerick what does a man seek
Depends: At what does it give him to peek? --
A flash of bare thigh
Or knockers, Oh my! --
More than that mocks the feminine mystique
Categories:
knockers, fantasy, humor, mystery, sexy,
Form:
Limerick
A man who was built like an horse
Was stunned by his recent divorce
His wife learned her knockers
Excited some gawkers
And all of them could stay the course!
Categories:
knockers, humor,
Form:
Limerick
NONFIGURATIVELY ME
the day of the post mortem
trying to piece you together
a deckle-edged tumour slid
into the picture…sad small
maple black coffin of
terror
roulette wheels babe-- able
to pull my own spills on
anything -- a hotel
lobby then corridors
collective doors where
knockers look like
miniature knights of
shining armor
hanging
swordless
only so far one can go
on Islands of pleasure
one mile long—Friday
nights are days off
remaining six
consist of
eight closet hours
of time—outside
castle walls
predictable
daily
menus
new version of the same poem
an opening stanza
standing alone
to mess with
closed minds
Non-figura-tively
me
© Kim van Breda—18 October 2015
Categories:
knockers, blue, purple, rainbow, word
Form:
Free verse