Short Chinny Poems
Short Chinny Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Chinny by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Chinny by length and keyword.
by the hair of my chinny chin chin
I wonder some days whose body I’m in
personality a secret, some days you see
from not only you, but also to me
Dame van Dyke now reclines and relaxes,
while her lady-in-waiting re-waxes
bristled shadowy skin
of her chinny-chin-chin...
the vexation of vain battle-axes.
Feelings can mislead
To do a stupid deed!
Go to bathroom again and again?
Not by the hair of my chinny-chin-chin!
Is it a symptom - Then be brave!
I'm the only one I can save!
There once was a nanny,* lived in New Guinea
She's spot her billy, O would she whinny
She'd kick up her feet
And then she would bleat
She'd curl the hair on his chin-chin-chinny
*A nanny is a female goat
Chocolate Sass-Mouth
Spacklefudge grinny
Sloppin’ down my chinny
In it to winny!
Chocolate Sass-Mouth
Butternut cream
Smeary goo team
Gurgly dream
Chocolate Sass-Mouth
Spittin’ out sass
Unburdened by class
Dirty hall pass
Chocolate Sass-Mouth
Twisted face covered
Misty-place lover
Never recovered
More chocky please
.
ya heard 'bout
the hair on hiz "chinny chin chin"
'turnz out
that wolf luuuvz'
all thuh hairz on
hiz chinny
chin chin'd
tuh
thuh hairz
lo
b b
'twixt'd
hiz
asterisks
i'll never fear your
pelvic beard it's
as natural as
the hair
on my
chinny
chin
chin
so i'll huff
and i'll puff
but i'm not
much of
a gruff
wolf
that
would
blow your
house down
so Norma Jeane
stand over a subway
grate don't hesitate to
let its hot air run up your
legs and puff your dress up
to a parachute so i can fly away
Form:
If a zebra came calling, would I let him in?
Bet I would by rule of the chinny chin chin
Where would he sleep? Would he need a feathered bed?
He might not be choosy, my inner thoughts said.
Would this zebra have a name or would I have to name him too?
Would he try to eat my sock, dungarees, overalls and left shoe?
Why do I concern myself about oddities like this?
Would he be a mister, a Mrs. or a sassy Miss?
I wake with ambition, bold as a drum,
till I trip on my slippers
and spill my own gumption.
I vow to eat healthy, crisp apples and greens,
but the cookie jar whispers
like it knows all my dreams.
I fix the loose cabinet with flair and a grin,
then discover the screwdriver
still dangling within.
yet somehow, through the stumbles and spins,
life hands me small joys
placed right under my chinny, chin, chin.