Knockers Poems

Let me pick off the pick

Next sound 
Miss tick
Teaching you through like adu
Eat the line
Crawl up the vine
Inside your water, no wine
Code and color penal
Cashing under the welfare
Biggest duty push
He haw hackers purse strings 
And dockers
Superfly newspapers
Wrapped around certificates like knockers
Your still here, hear with your eyes
Get it out of your mouth
Put publicity on silent
Give me 5 to 10 years no profit
Let it all fall, burn in to the problems
Noway y’all is progressive
Jazz aint today
Last night novels can’t eat eggs
Leader need an audience?
When wasn’t you borin?
Flapping aunt jackson
Face some sit down time
For once become not obvious
Because i know you think
But you respond to the dropper
Knew medication like diapers
Unqualified speakers too magnet

Flipping sausage like complaints
Deaf and defended
Clerically too many missing
Number one number, how many died
While you walk, no guard
Open and jawing

the rich and my English brother

My English Brother and the Rich
I find it impossible to be envious of the wealthy, buying superyachts one bigger than the other, when they get seasick at the thought of sailing out to sea
Marrying a busty blond with big knockers often taller than themselves, or buying a newspaper and dictating their political views that frequently consist of sour grapes  
Some very rich people indulge in sexual fantasies of the sort a 16 old might have and visit an island 200 times to satisfy their depravity and live in fear of being exposed
I know of a mega wealthy man, whose dream is to be the first human on the planet Mars to colonize the place in case our earth burns Is he going to take his 14 children along?
My father, although working class, was not unlike these people there was always one more woman to sleep with and I now learn he spent the war years in UK fathering a child
I hope it was a boy, my own brother died young, mind my English brother must be 80 by now, in a terraced home freezing, since the pensioners lost the winter benefit

Jesus on a Unicycle

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.

Melons Mabel

*A very loose form of Limerick, 
          but Mabel deserves lots of syllables.


There once was a waitress with the name of Mabel
Who used her bosom as a restaurant table
Beneath her double chins
Mabel flaunted her twins
The one on the right, Cain and the left one, Abel

The locals knew not to make fun of the lady
Ol' Teddy swaggered in, looking kinda shady
He taunted her with smut
She punched him in the gut
That's the last we all saw of Teddy O'Grady

Mabel looked real nice in her crimson ruffled gown
Two cups of coffee; 'pon her boobs she set 'em down
And when I smiled at her
She said, "Thank you, sir"
I left her a satisfied tip of a half-crown

When eating lunch, Mabel never uses a plate
Don't insult her by declaring she's overweight
Cause she'll call you a lout
Chew you up, spit you out
If you tell her she needs a train to move her freight

Mabel's knockers would put the Grand Tetons to shame
But they're the reason she's in the town's Hall of Fame
She wins beauty contests
With her grandiose breasts
I think 'Melons Mabel' is a comely nickname

Rehashing History: Some Bare Facts About Lady Godiva

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.

I Hear the Candy

i hear the candy
no it’s the kids from far off
wearing out knockers

10/31/2022

Big Bust

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!

Don'T Mock Her Knockers

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

Acorns and Oaks

Coffin dodgers and nursing home lodgers,
wrinklies, pensioners and plain old codgers.
A drain on society, archaic models of piety,
bed blockers, youth knockers, paragons of sobriety.

But is all that we see, all that it seems,
the elderly, like you, still have hopes and dreams.
Still carry the baton for tomorrow's youth,
the keepers of history, the sentinels of truth.

Though the fire is out, there still burns a flame,
which, if fanned by interest, could burgeon again.
Igniting a beacon, a fantastic life force,
a living library, a priceless resource.

So, honour your old folk, cut them some slack,
for a lot of them have been to hell and back.
They've built the society we now take for granted,
so enjoy the fruits of the seeds that they planted.

F a M O U S For W-H-A-T

“I wear the chain I forged in life,” replied the ghost,
“I made it link by link, and yard by yard; I girded it on
of my own free will, and of my own free will I wore it.”

— Marley in Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol




“Why is the rum gone?”

“True enough, the compass does not point North…
it points to the thing you want most in the world”

— Jack Sparrow, Pirates of the Caribbean





f a m o u s for w-h-a-t



what’s friendship, when famous —

drip drip drip of diamonds
gold that clamors and clangs

      like a Marley ghost

(the knockers froth)

a revolving door, an arrow
          North
West
                    East
           South

Cupid’s conundrum—
a whirring compass,
C-a-p-t-a-i-n Sparrow’s

birds spinning on a clothesline
dropping sans five and dime
w-a-s-t-i-n-g your time

in a party b-u-s  t
white powder
angel dust

silk stockings posing on seats
                    s-m-e-l-l-s of feet

hair tossed like a Caesar salad
jaded olives, glitter dressing

and who w-o-n your underpants

nothing left underneath…



11/26/2019

Knockers

What do you call a bear who's missing an ear
So simple friends, it becomes a “bee” that's quite weird
“Knock knock, who could it be”
“Opportunity... don't be silly”
“Opportunity knocks but once, well that's what I heer-d”

Here She Comes You'Ll See

Here she comes. You’ll see.
The room got quiet.
Yes, she was an unknown girl. 
Her knockers were not only enormous
They were practically loose.

The women did not seem to notice.
Grandma was stirring up a big pot of spaghetti.
My mother, the Den mother, was chopping salads.
There were eight of us boys, and we were twelve.
We were eaters.
The girl was unknown to us.
But we were fascinated.
We had never seen them out in the open like that.

We began to giggle.
She turned and they knocked a lamp off.
“No worries!” Grandma said. “Just pick it back up.”
As she was picking it up, she said “ouch!”
Because they were slapped up against it.
“Loosen your grip,” Danny one of my friends said.

She did, and it worked.
She came over to thank him and hit him in the eye with one of them.
He jumped up and ran out screaming. 
He had never been hit like that before.
All that bragging about his experience.
Grandma turned and looked at the unknown.
“Go get more clothes on!” she ordered her.
Taking away our fun.
Apparently she is my cousin.
Who knew?

Skateboards

skateboards
and ker-knockers
september school yard



posted on June 25, 2018

Knockers Galore

They tell me Aussie beaches are teeming with knockers
They're everywhere you look, naughty thoughts they foster
Guys try to remain fine
Not step over the line
But my friendly looks up assuming a provocative posture

G'Day Jack Oz Is Calling

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

• Short Knockers Poems
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• Long Knockers Poems
• Knockers Quotes