Tommy Poems - Poems about Tommy

Tom was a Halloween baby, so we expected him to have magical powers. We ran off to see him in the nursery, but it was over visiting hours. He waved his little fist and the lights overhead began to sizzle and blink. Our godson was really something; at six hours old, he gave us a wink. We bought him...

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Is he really political.? I mean he runs no party of that ilk.' Yet I see 'the descriptive given' woven in like silk.) Is he being held as a terrorist.? Or charged? He pleads Guilty of journalisam.? Yet has he been pushed into that Yard.? Guilty he is saying ' yet should that be the case.? Or is he just...

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In friendship's garden, where we once played, Our words were spring flowers blooming gay. All of grammar and logic at our beck and call, In the linguistic realm, we controlled it all. Sadly, your heart is now but a brilliant star, Yet one I can see wherever you are. In this new silence, all our past words take flight, As their wings...

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Why did little Tommy Tucker Have to sing for his supper? Did he stammer and stutter To merit just bread and butter? And what miscreant oaf Would then give him a loaf But nary a knife to cut through it? Didn't Tom have enough strife In his life with no wife, Or did fat spread on starch Help him chew it? ...

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Tommy Tucker was a youth of slight build, seeming younger than twenty, Which was Tommy's true age; like a lone, silver star, apart from the plenty. Tommy was well known for his great singing voice, so silky and stunning, That people paid to hear him croon; like honey throated bees, humming. But, as it wasn't enough to pay his...

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Tommy Turkey revealed that last year Farmer Joe made old friends disappear. To the new birds he said, “Heed my words or be dead should that farmer with axe reappear.” The new birds thought his tale was a fable. Tommy cried, “Run as fast as you’re able.” To the corn field he fled while his dumb friends instead ended up on a Thanksgiving table....

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He once was a pale of mine when we were both young and dumb. He was always a feisty guy - a real hot-head. His ears satellite dishes forever tuned to detect any slight or perceived insult. Time goes by, there are forks in the road for both of us. For years we don’t talk or meet. I hear he’s a successful local plumber...

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Tommy Lee was a Black man, Born a poor man's son. From the early days of his wayward youth Tommy Lee was on the run. He never had no money, Not a penny or a dime. He was always in trouble, He was hungry all the time. Be proud of yo family My Son, you got a name, His Daddy ever told him, And don't put...

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Was just a young'un in the big band era But it seems just like yesterday Listening to Glenn Miller and Tommy Dorsey Still love it right to this day Miller's Modernaires, and Dorsey's Pied Pipers With their smooth harmonic blend Chattanooga Choo-Choo and The Trolley Song Brought me so much pleasure no end Guess I was influenced by my older sisters Was not even...

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Tsunami! Tsunami! Tsunami! ...

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I am weirded out the honest frightened youngster said. Deliberately Daring Dracula cat is truthfully wacked in the head. I saw that cat slide under my Uncle Tommy’s water bed. She’s in for a surprise later, I laughed and said. Uncle Tommy was an unusually heavy man for sure. When he climbed into bed, he displaced water on her. She came...

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my cat Tommy developed a cry that sounded like "mama" Probably during a rain storm when I slept through his cry. I always woke up upon hearing it and let him in the back door to my room. After he got chased down by a teenager and run over in the street His "mama" cry continued to wake me...

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Tommy fell off his bike and broke his bum When he set off to find a new one Big, tall, or one size fits all A man he met at the mall, offered a new bum but for a large sum Tommy looked here, there, and everywhere Even the stores where they sold underwear To venders who had his back But...

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At the evening dinner table, a silent sneaky unaware; suddenly a rancid odour permeates our luncheon air, and then all around the table there’s finger pointing or a name, but once the rancid air does clear, poor Tommy gets the blame. Driving along the Murray banks inside a warm and stuffy car, we cannot put the windows down for it’s all dust; there is no...

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simply is simple I wish I might feign I wish I might go to stumble to quake simply is something I feign I might die I feign I might rise to reverie to time simple is simply is simple is not to close to open to get the maestro out...

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