Long Knockers Poems
Long Knockers Poems. Below are the most popular long Knockers by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Knockers poems by poem length and keyword.
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.
“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
*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
7/11/21
Never been the smoothest talker
Got to make the best of it before I need a walker
Had a lot or nothing to offer
Wasn't always worth the bother
4 days a week I work with and help doctors
Occasionally seeing Boxers
She got some knockers
Too many peeps are squawkers
I'm flying sky high inside a saucer
Above waters
With otters
Never been an imposter
Thought I had a chance and how quick I lost her
It's all been testing my dignity and honor
Never been a prince, always been a pauper
An endless battle to prosper
In the end it was or wasn't a shocker
The truth locked behind a locker
Or bouncing around like a ball in soccer
People being respectful or a stalker
In a world full of good intentions and slaughter
Some folks heroes and others monsters
Objects of value and sentiment behind a glass case
A giant rat race
Traveling slow or at a fast pace
Winding up in first or last place
Oh in that case
No wonder the sad face
This all left a bad taste
Good and bad days
Glass crutches in the ashtrays
While going in and out of a vast maze
It's much more than kind of
A big deal if you can't make your mind up
Before time's up
That's why the past and history is there to remind us
Sit around or get out and try stuff
That's for you to decide what
Find out you might hate or like much
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
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
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
The blood curdling screams rang out into the night
The little beggars were dragging someone to their lair
Huddled together, trembling with fear, we closed our eyes
She whispered “Do you think they will come?”
I held my breath and forced my hand across her frail chin
There was nothing I could do or say to ward off the knockers
Paralyzed I watched her as she bit deep her lips drawing drops of blood
As the screams echoed into the black night air I grabbed a bottled drink
The putrid odor caused me to wretch but I forced a sip
She pushed it away causing the grey, dank liquid to spill
What had we become? Monsters, sickly beings, animals
This was no life for a human, this was not our world
It began with what they called a pandemic, a virus
We were forced to isolate, forced to wear masks, our identities were lost
The vaccine came in a hurry, one dose or two, it was forced on everyone
The elderly got sick first, hair loss, teeth breaking, nails turning black
Then animals changed dogs grew long sharp teeth and doubled in size
Cats turned to mangy horrific beasts that would gnaw tails until they fell off
A nightmare began nation against nation, trickery from those in power
The sun was barely visible, plants wilted and turned to mush
The water changed to a grey gel and then the eclipse hit
Once the moon covered the sun it froze and our world became dark
Freezing temperatures killed off many of the children
The heat suits were rationed and some malfunctioned burning those inside
No one survived the burns, it was as if they melted in the suit
The little beggars with their pointy ears and scraggly hair would run up and drag the remains away leaving nothing but a burn mark in their wake
We, the survivors live in fear, costumed in soiled rags, visions fading into darkness
05/02/2021
Written for A Poem of Horror Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Funom Makama
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
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