Short Nicked Poems
Short Nicked Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Nicked by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Nicked by length and keyword.
There once was a girl called Maud
Who once had commited some fraud
But she moved round so quick
She never got nicked
And she prayed every day to the lord!
There was once a lady called Mable
Whose knickers were up to her navel
Her cupboards were bare
There was no underwear
So she nicked them from where she was able
I sense the scorching truth doth lap my toenails ~ or am I being tricked
satan asked his chiropodist ~ who hath nicked him bad but truly licked
By
David Kavanagh
There once was a brash barmaid named Belle
Her virtue she would selflessly sell
she was nicked by the cops
for illegal house stops
She now spends her spare time in a cell
Here lies James Jacob McInerny
Died of hemorrhoids at forty-three
Sick of something nobody gave,
Scratched himself into an early grave
Nicked his bud while trying to shave.
Written November 6, 2022
My Claws Were Nicked
Remember when my claws were nicked,
And then some other ones I had picked;
He was scratched,
By claws attached;
As usual again Trump off was ticked.
Trump thinks he is a saint,
Which he sure as heck ain't.
Jim Horn
Time is a rusted blade
Ripping when it cuts
Bone, and fat and guts.
Life is a tragic clown’s charade
Time’s nicked knife will slash;
Props, and back-drops, crash.
Only proud puppets never fade:
Sawdust hearts survive,
Deathless, unalive.
There was once a sweet gal named Mary
Whose face and legs were kind of hairy
She shaved once a week
One day she nicked her cheek
Had to get shaving advice from Larry
4-11-17
Alexis Y.
My bestie friend is always in my heart
Knew we would from the start
We clicked and nicked.
Sucked and swallowed
Crazy days and nights that followed
Nina and Ma’s and pinching cars
and having carverys down the starr
People say we both berserk that
Lisa-Jane Costigann and Rachel Ruthless Turk
I got ripped
Then I tripped
Not the one you call a stumble
Read the script
Then I flipped
We were headed for a rumble
First I kicked
And got nicked
My mind was in a jumble
She was red lipped
And unzipped
She took me for a tumble
She was a Pict
That I picked
An ancient kind of people
Form:
Plates and saucers
quietly in attendance
behind the cupboard doors
lick their faded flowers
inside borders service nicked
as time ticks
off the kitchen clock.
Pile smoothed dish towels
lie in neatly folded rows
as a checkered mate
doubles over the ice box
handle with nothing to dry
but a mother’s tears
for days gone by.
The carpenter at rest recalled
The tools he left within a wall
So by night he paid a call
Too swift extract his treasure
His saw so deftly blasted through
It jerked and nicked his favorite tool
Just bellicose a real fool
At least he missed the jewels
The nurses laughed a lot inside
The carpenter, he nearly cried
The only damage to his pride
The doctor patched his tool
Sat on the veranda in Cape Verde
to eat my chicken and rice
it was so hot
I thought a drink would be nice.
I go in for refreshement
then came out to be
back with my meal
but what did I see?
A cat nicked my chicken
the birds ate my rice
now my plate was empty
and scraps wouldn't suffice.
Now I no how 'they' feel
when the tables are turned
and they are so hungry
lesson now learned.
A small vial,
I’ve nicked it,
A bottle of tequila,
Aren’t I a delinquent,
My heart is racing
Against my mind,
What a craze
To be foolish and hungry,
Must be clever,
even more cunning,
I’ll Regret this forever?
Never know ‘till I try…
Can’t forget the promise
I’m leashed to,
Said I wouldn’t again...
Now where to?
Maybe i’ll just tell him,
He’s doing the same kinda,
Even last night,
He told me if I felt up to it…
Lucky wasn’t.
Lucky was his nickname.
Lucky played around.
Lucky sunk his head into the dresser.
Knock Knock.
“Who’s there?”
The bed stopped rocking
and answered the emergency call.
The next day was sunny
and Brother D was working.
Brring…brring…
Yes, Lucky wasn’t.
He played around the recliner
and nicked his knee.
“What do you mean it’s another emergency?”
Twice in twenty-four, he scored.
Lucky was his nickname.
Lucky wasn’t.
The empty scared pitcher
Nicked, cracked, and in need of paint
Trying to fill it with water
It leaked on the sink
Spilling forth to wet
The surfaces and the floor
A little prayer to God above
Filled the pitcher with his love
Now repaired and just like new
Water pours forth
Not spilling on the floor
But going forth to people who
Are also filled and repaired
Now they do not despair
But let their water overflow
Others are touched because it shows
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