Long Sixpence Poems
Long Sixpence Poems. Below are the most popular long Sixpence by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sixpence poems by poem length and keyword.
Every Tuesday on the dot,
I would be off to the newsagent like a shot.
A solitary sixpence,all my wealth
to pick up my favourite comic from his shelf.
Not the Beano,Beezer,Dandy or Eagle...
the Hotspur and Wizard were my kings regal.
To read of my hero W W Wilson,the wonder man,
sporting giant extraordinaire,batted bowled and ran.
Soccer ,cricket were a piece of cake,
he left all others in his wake.
Give him the ball and the game was soon over,
he even outscored Roy of the Rover.
Bowling right armover,on a sixpence seven times from eight,
well above average Wilson was incredibly great.
He'd bowl all day at one twenty an hour,
never stopping to take a shower!
In futuristic black body suit,
an English record breaker without dispute.
My inspiration,this imagined prince,
never bettered then,before or since!
re-post inspired by Brenda's contest
THE HERO
Every Tuesday on the dot,I would be off to the newsagent like a shot.A solitary
sixpence,all my wealth to pick up my favourite comic from his shelf.Not the
Beano,Beezer,Dandy or Eagle...the Hotspur and Wizard were my kings regal.To
read of my hero W W Wilson,the wonder man,sporting giant extraordinaire,batted
bowled and ran.
Soccer ,cricket were a piece of cake,he left all others in his wake.Give him the
ball and the game was soon over,he even outscored Roy of the Rover.Bowling
right armover,on a sixpence seven times from eight,well above average Wilson
was incredibly great.He'd bowl all day at one twenty an hour,never stopping to
take shower!
In futuristic black body suit,an English record breaker without dispute.My
inspiration,this imagined prince,never bettered then,before or since!
Every Tuesday on the dot,I would be off to the newsagent like a shot.A solitary
sixpence,all my wealth to pick up my favourite comic from his shelf.Not the
Beano,Beezer,Dandy or Eagle...the Hotspur and Wizard were my kings regal.To
read of my hero W W Wilson,the wonder man,sporting giant extraordinaire,batted
bowled and ran.
Soccer ,cricket were a piece of cake,he left all others in his wake.Give him the
ball and the game was soon over,he even outscored Roy of the Rover.Bowling
right armover,on a sixpence seven times from eight,well above average Wilson
was incredibly great.He'd bowl all day at one twenty an hour,never stopping to
take shower!
In futuristic black body suit,an English record breaker without dispute.Mu
inspiration,this imagined prince,never bettered then,before or since!
Sixpence and foursquare seventy-seven minus fifty-two
Come and give me a cuddle, it truly is only us two.
What are you staring at? Is that a cobbler’s shoe?
Just the word mathematics makes me want to boo-hoo.
Donuts in the belfry, quotients in the glue.
Wiggle Waggle Wiggle bottom. I am scared now too.
Jumping over a moon, with your magic eyes of blue.
Multiplication meanness is coming rapidly through.
Mathematics is the word of the day. What can we do?
I am terrified of numbers, just between me and you.
Letters make more sense. I have mastered some of them two.
Geometry and statistics? I hope this poem is finally through.
Every Wednesday on the dot,
off to the newsagent like a shot.
A solitary sixpence,all my wealth
picking up the Hotspur comic from the shelf.
To read of my hero W W Wilson,the wonder man,
sporting 'extraordinaire',batted bowled and ran.
Soccer &cricket were a piece of cake,
leaving all others in his wake.
Bowling ,on a sixpence seven from eight,
above average Wilson was uniquely great.
He'd bowl all day at one twenty an hour,
never stopping to take shower!
In futuristic black body suit,
a record breaker without dispute.
My inspiration,this imagined prince,
never bettered ,'fore or since!
Copyright © Brian Strand | Year Posted 2007
Hickory Dickory Dock, the mouse,
Ran up the clock,
But the crooked little man
In his crooked little house,
Who caught this crooked mouse
After Humpty Dumpty's fall,
Could not prevent the coming
Down of baby, cradle and all!
Now old Mother Hubbard,
Checked her bare cupboard
And found Jack and Jill,
Who lived just up the hill,
She wrapped poor Jack’s head
In vinegar and brown paper!
Guy Fawkes scandalous caper,
Was renown, he met the Duke of York,
Who to Fawkes, seemed quite a dork,
For the Duke took all his men up,
Then down, and up and again down,
He did not want to break his crown!
At that moment a Ladybird,
Whose house was on fire and
Her children gone, flew to the house,
That Jack built, and sat on the maidens
Lap all forlorn,
In the early morn,
But the maiden had gone to bed with John
Who still had his trousers on!
Both had a ball, and sang
A song of Sixpence,
But in their defence
They were hiding from Guy Fawkes
And his gunpowder plot,
In bed, thought of it naught!
Suddenly through their bed
Ran three blind mice for their life
And a farmers wife,
Who was cutting their tails with a knife!
Imagine three little kittens,
Who had lost their mittens
But could have no pie,
When they saw the blind mice,
Pie was history, as once,
Twice and thrice,
They caught the blind mice!
Meanwhile Polly had put the kettle on
So that all the mourners for Cock Robin,
Could all have a cup of tea,
It was the fly with his little eye,
Who first saw him die.
However, through all of this,
Little Jack Horner
Who sat in his corner
Heard Tom, Tom the Pipers son,
And though related none
Visited the Queen of hearts,
Who gave them some tarts!
Night time was nigh
And way up in the sky,
Was a twinkling star,
That Jack Sprat spotted from afar,
And so did old King Cole,
But at the same time heard the bell toll,
For poor cock robin,
So he started sobbing,
But soon cheered up when
He saw a fine lady upon a white horse,
Riding to Banbury Cross!
Wee Willie Winkie, asked for a ride
Through the town,
Still in his nightgown!
But when he saw the cow jump
Over the moon,
And the dish,
Run away with the spoon,
He rubbed his eyes and said what a fiddle,
Hey diddle diddle!
Every Tuesday on the dot,
I would be off to the newsagent like a shot.
A solitary sixpence,all my wealth to pick up
my favourite comic from his shelf.Not the
Beano,Beezer,Dandy or Eagle...
the Hotspur and Wizard were my kings regal.
To read of my hero W W Wilson,the wonder man,
sporting giant extraordinaire,batted bowled and ran.
Soccer ,cricket were a piece of cake,
he left all others in his wake.
Give him the ball and the game was soon over,
he even outscored Roy of the Rover.
Bowling right armover,on a sixpence seven times from eight,
well above average Wilson was incredibly great.
He'd bowl all day at one twenty an hour,never stopping to
take shower!
In futuristic black body suit,an English record breaker
without dispute.My inspiration,this imagined prince,
never bettered then,before or since!
Painstakingly I gathered shrapnel from grandpa’s fields,
sold them to the metal man who came on horse & cart.
Alas, disaster struck...the sixpence, fruit of my hard work,
slipped through my fingers, forever lost in the soil!
A young entrepreneur’s euphoria evaporated into thin air.
My heart painfully shattered beyond repair by the shrapnel
of irremediable loss, anger and bitter disappointment.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Contest: Unsayable (7 lines)
Sponsor: Nette Onclaud
Placed 2nd
© 24th November 2017
Years after WW II ended, shrapnel from exploded bombs
was still to be found in all the area where my grandpa’s
farm was - in the vicinity of Hal Far military aerodrome.
A man used to visit from time to time, with horse and cart,
buying anything made of metal; we called him the metal man.
O quatrain, if I would, could you?
Aren't we fancy-free?
Bolt, shock through! O baby blue!
Firewalk with me!
Ravine behind, seen in dream?
Houses of the old.
Tend thy garden on the beam!
Terror, strike them cold.
Fateful fire, thy fury.
Scurrying rat, mad mink.
Blizzard, spent in flurries?
Dragon, firebake. Bad brink.
Fates Three, Muses Nine, pain. Pine?
Dark fire, black thy shine.
Glisten, wound in back. Boil, brine.
Vampire, on death dine.
Torments of the damned? Hail, home.
Let out on the loam.
Thunder, roll above the dome.
Black bound bell and tome.
Doom, loom over. Sibyl, sense.
Golem, got sixpence?
Death-flame, burning. Manse, incense.
Recoil, confidence.
Monopolize, monologue.
Metropolis, maim.
Prick, my nerves. Human race, cog?
Downpour to disclaim.
Wren, wind. Weathervane, point. Seek.
Glow, O gibbous moon.
Plaque o'er door of boneyard, speak.
Float, O my balloon...
Pat-a-cake pat-a-cake baker's man
Bake me a cake as fast as you can
Speed is of the essence
So put it in the oven for Billy and Jan
Now Jack be nimble Jack be quick
London Bridge is falling down
Get off soon as you can
Some take pics of me in my nightgown
Is there a man on the moon not sure
Does he have funny big ears
How about a very large nose
Can smell cheese from the moon to here
Sing a song of sixpence a pocket full of rye
The reason is don't know why
Well a celebration is close
Not sure if sixpence will do it just gonna try
Little Jack Horner sat in the corner
Eating his Christmas pie
He stuck in his thumb
Pulled out some screaming happy guys