Nickel Poems - Poems about Nickel

A Nickel Is Worth?

"Pennies are good luck. Take one with you everywhere you go." By Poet 

Once in a tale of old,
a penny was worth one cent not gold.
A nickel was worth five pennies,
they say changes are coming Jenny.
With no more pennies of copper,
this will be a real money stopper.
Guess I need to now unearth,
the real story behind

Laughter Minichu

a wry sense of humor
belting laughter erupts my fancy you tickle
ace lampooner

mirth flows free
rare as a buffalo nickel
pure glee

hurray
comic boomer
ha's!

a wry sense of humor
rare as a buffalo nickel
ha's!

Worth More Than a Nickel

There once was a rich man from Des Moines
Whose profile was engraved on a coin
He was so proud
He crowed out loud
It was money that kept him going.

Written July 18, 2021

Nickel and Dime - Nursery Rhyme

A nickel and dime 
Had lost their shine 
When they slipped into the old couch in the parlor 

Their paths have been crossed 
When they both had got lost 
When they were exchanged from change of a dollar 

The dime and the nickel 
Still both in a pickle 
But they know they'll be found in

A Nickel

A old homeless man sitting on the corner, holding out a hat
People walking by saying "Gross what is that
He seems to never get up from where he sat
He might not talk, nobody knows, they don't try to chat
He sits through the cold, warmth, and blistering heat
This is not easy, no simple feat
No amount of weather

Sudbury's Moon Surface

I was in grade five when we moved up north to a remote miners' town. 
Even my memories are dull. I escaped as soon as I could ~

                           

A Nickel In My Ear a Dime On My Head

A nickel in my ear,
A dime on my head.
Two quarters in my nostrils.
The dollars are all dead.

A page in my arm.
The rest of the book never found.
You’ve been busy dear
All I’ve done is fool around.

A token in my pipe.
Empty penny slot next to my head.
Golden goose is laying hard.
The dollars are all dead.

Nickel-O-De-In

A lady well known to be fickle
Was left all alone with a pickle
To her great delight
She found out that night
How a nickel pickle can tickle!

A Nickel a Can

They paw through the garbage,
Retrieving the cans
And bottles to get the deposit
Which, likely, have come from
Apartments nearby where more wait
In a pantry or closet.

A nickel a can, which 
Means nothing to most
Is the source of their urban survival.
The beer and the soda
We drink and we toss, unaware
They await its arrival.

Imagine depending
On other folks’ trash
To furnish

Nickel Children 3

All the Nickel Children are playing on the rocks.
Twilights silhouettes upon the ridges walk.
Cool winds upon them as dusk becomes the dark.
The giant nickel shining in moonlight for the shock.

The red horizons glowing in molten rocks of slag.
The metal casted buckets off slightly to their side.
A heated dump of coals made brilliant to their waste.
The

Nickel Children 2

All the Nickel Children are playing on the rocks.
Ridges to their cliffs black crust.
Chimney sticks and nickels casting silhouettes
and all the sky in burning rust.

The glowing red horizons sliding down in fire
been dumped from casted buckets to their side.
The train cars slowly running with a gentle purr
while showtime sees the hotter coals collide.

The view upon

Nickel Children 1

All the Nickel Children are playing on the rocks.
Cooler winds upon them scents.
The smell of dying leaves descending on their nose
and all to build the heart's suspense.

A group of girls giggling huddled in the wind.
Their gossip for the boys to hear.
Excitement for the moment that it's gotten cold
and passion they'll be warmer when their near.

All

The Magic Nickel

One day, not so long ago, when I was out playing with my dog Ruff, I met a very old woman. She looked very tired and poor. Her clothes were worn and kind of ragged. Her shoes had holes in them. She wore an old straw hat that was coming apart. Ruff began sniffing at

Nickel Children

Poem about Sudbury, Ontario, Canada


All the nickel children
are playing on the rocks.
Girls exchanging numbers
and boys exchanging knocks.

Some are picking blueberries.
Some play in the moss.
Some are throwing grass bombs
as far as they can toss.

All the nickel children
are playing on the rocks.
All around a nickel
we made so that it shocks.

Nickel Big

Poems about Sudbury, Ontario, Canada


There's a nickel big that I feel small.
A coin to wonder where you'd spend.
One broader than your shoulders.
One much to large to lend.

There's a nickel big in Sudbury.
A city home to miners.
Where mining for our nickel
is not meant for the whiners.

There's a nickel big from in the Earth.
A coin come from

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