Details |
Sammy Holt Sr Poem
Well I was just a young boy and turnin' eighteen,
Gettin' outta high school, back then was really keen,
Workin' here and workin' there, couple years or so,
Waitin' to hear from Uncle Sam, sayin' I gotta go,
I tried to join the Air Force, hearin' wasn't good,
Turned around, walked away, said I understood,
A year went by, workin' hard, havin' lotsa fun,
Greetings came from Uncle Sam, come on get a gun,
Well I had my own plans and Army wasn't it,
So I joined the Air Force, I'm not without wit,
Well a shootin' and a marchin', classes everyday,
Learnin' 'bout computers on so little pay,
Well orders came, goodbye states, gotta catch a flight,
Southeast Asia, here I come, get ready for a fight,
War is hell, the smell is bad, your stomache inside out,
Politicians lie, buddies die, what's it all about?
Economy's bad, money tight, whatcha gonna do?
Police action or a war, or maybe just a coup!
So support your politician, in their time of need,
Because they really need you --- to support their greed!
Copyright © Sammy Holt Sr | Year Posted 2005
|
Details |
Sammy Holt Sr Poem
This wasn’t requested, but eluded too,
A poem for us, what written by you,
It is different, it’s gonna take time,
Third person writing, composing this thyme,
My name is Kelly, work at L D,
Along with Vanessa, similarities you’ll see,
Both twenty-two, blonde and brunette,
Both date guys, not married yet,
Fifteen years, our senior they are,
Both drive a truck, SUV, or car,
There are three kids in my relationship,
That’s what I told Sam, as coffee he sip,
Vanessa has two, her beau has one,
Third person writing is really quite fun,
We both go to college, not the same place,
Our hair is different and so is our face,
But that’s normal explanation you see,
We’re not sisters, no relation be,
Well here comes Janet, owner’s kid,
I’ll tell you her age, but it’ll be hid,
Tens place holder, square root son’s age,
This could take longer, than just one page,
Units digit, little complicated,
Calculating it, sophisticated,
It’s the cube root, from a Beatles song,
Complete the sentence, it won’t take long,
Not sure the title two word precede,
“When I’m ----- - ----”, is all your gonna need,
The spaces above, represent the word,
Just fill it in the space, I know you’ve heard,
So a closing thought, before I go,
Kelly didn’t write it, if ya wanna know.
Copyright © Sammy Holt Sr | Year Posted 2005
|
Details |
Sammy Holt Sr Poem
Would you trust a crock, To baby sit your child?
Would you trust a cobra, To guard you in the wild?
Would you trust a Lion, Safe keeping sheep at night?
Would you trust a bear, In the dark or the light?
Would you trust a thief, With a ten karat stone?
Or even a predator, With your kids all alone?
Would you leave your house, And not lock the door?
Would a crack user, Never smoke anymore?
Would you trust a liar, Never to deceive?
And for a politician, For no one can believe.
Would you trust the Devil, To tell you what is good?
When it’s clearly stated, The author of falsehood,
So how do ya trust Obama, Anytime day or night?
Cause a snake is just a snake, In any dark or the light.
And what about Muslims, Where is their alliance?
Do they worship God? Never! They are in defiance.
Their goal is abolish, Christianity forever,
With Obama as president. Their ploy is very clever.
So what is the solution, The other party to elect?
From frying pan to the fire, An attempt to correct.
It’s not about the party, For most will all agree,
It’s being represented, By the powers that there be.
It’s not a brand new concept, To have your voice heard,
That’s why we fought the British, To have a spoken word.
You deserve or entitled, A socialist ideal.
Obama got elected, On that deceiving spiel.
I could go on and on, But I think I’ve said enough,
Cleaning up the government, Is gonna be very rough.
Copyright © Sammy Holt Sr | Year Posted 2014
|
Details |
Sammy Holt Sr Poem
Dental work, dental work, it never seems to end,
Railroad tracks, bridge and gap, till polygrip your friend,
Flossing here, brushing there, tooth decay averted,
Rinse the mouth, fresh and clean, our taste buds alerted,
Though we brush, sometimes floss, some germs will still remain,
Business lunch, late night snack, the germs now play their game,
What the heck, who's to say, just how to live your life,
Do your thing, have a fling, who needs the extra strife,
Drills and picks, dental aids, we see them twice a year,
So have some fun, pizza run, and chase it with a beer.
Copyright © Sammy Holt Sr | Year Posted 2005
|
Details |
Sammy Holt Sr Poem
Traffic violations are the solution,
For each ticket, would play a part,
Just twenty bucks, feds would take,
Simple plan, aint that smart?
Most everyone would contribute,
As their driving would be the guide,
A little box inside your car,
Would monitor you, no place to hide,
Just how many would there be,
A hundred million on the road,
And if everybody just had one,
Everyday would be a load,
Would the feds, really do that?
And you say, what about my rights?
Eye in the sky and in your car,
Like a deer, in the headlights.
Every week 14 billion,
Now that’s a wad of cash,
National debt gone in no time,
Capital Hill would have a bash.
Copyright © Sammy Holt Sr | Year Posted 2014
|
Details |
Sammy Holt Sr Poem
Birthdays come, and Birthdays go,
Yours is past, as you well know,
Not really sure why I forgot,
Could it have been an evil plot,
I always have good intention,
Just too busy, worth a mention,
Better slow down, smell the roses,
Stop the grindstone, save the noses,
You’re thought ‘bout, more often that not,
You’re in my prayers, never forgot,
So I say with no reservation,
Gotta stop this procrastination,
So in closing, I’m thinkin’ of you,
One in Mass. and One in Muzoo.
Copyright © Sammy Holt Sr | Year Posted 2005
|
Details |
Sammy Holt Sr Poem
Open everyday, at the crack of dawn,
Servin’ eggs and bacon, til there gone,
Pots of coffee, with lots of cream,
Dealin’ with the “help”, makes ya wanna scream.
Lo - cal, Lo- cal Diner, Best lil’ place in town.
Now there’s janet, the bosses daughter,
Sometime she heps, by bringin’ ya water,
Runs the show, when Frank aint around,
Cross her path, and you’re goin’ down.
Lo - cal, Lo - cal Diner, Best mind ya Ps and Qs..
Kelly has a secret, we all know,
Passed on to us, by another jo,
That aint all, but it’ll do for now,
Come on down, and enjoy the chow.
Lo - cal, Lo - cal Diner, Your secret get around.
There’s a lil’ blonde, works here too,
Straight short hair, and eyes of blue,
Probably lives close, just about a mile,
The tips she’d get, if she’d just smile.
Lo - cal, Lo - cal Diner, We pull no punches here.
Now the patrons sumptin’, ya gotta know,
Comin’ for breakfast, whether rain or snow,
They come here to eat, nothing’ else ‘round,
Day old biscuits, just throw’em on the ground.
Lo - cal, Lo - cal Diner, A critic in e’er booth.
Billy and Keith, then there’s me,
If ya can count, that makes three,
All very different, as you can see,
Keith’s the only one who set his hair free,
Lo - cal, Lo - cal Diner, I’m not far behind Keith.
If that wasn’t funny, read a little bit,
Billy hasa tic, ya can’t miss it,
Tappin’ his fingers, on the table top,
It drives me crazy, but he still won’t stop.
Lo - cal, Lo - cal Diner, Billy just taps and grins.
Well here comes Frank, Sunday at nine,
“Please Wait To Be Seated”, silly ole sign,
Just seat yourself, when he is around,
His innuendo’s, will put you down,
Lo - cal, Lo - cal Diner, Ya don’t wanna be a “Frank”.
Copyright © Sammy Holt Sr | Year Posted 2005
|
Details |
Sammy Holt Sr Poem
This here’s a poem, ‘bout writin’ one,
‘Bout how it sounds, and havin’ fun,
I like the rhythm, and I like the rhyme,
Whether quickly read, or three four time,
I guess you’d say, I like things neat,
I like all lines, to follow the beat,
Now I’ve read some, they tell a story,
The writin’ I read, was sorta gory,
It needs redoin’, and with more thought,
No rhyme No rhythm, it aint naught.
Copyright © Sammy Holt Sr | Year Posted 2005
|
Details |
Sammy Holt Sr Poem
Have a little story, 'bout a man and his dog,
His dog started to run, so the man had to jog,
They went through the park, they passed by the school,
They passed by the city dump, and the swimmin' pool,
They went through the alleys, and they went through the streets,
Striaght through the rose bushes, and the sugar beets,
They ran over the train tracks, around the cattle pens,
They ran throught the chicken yard, distrubed a bunch of hens,
They finally made it back, to the place where they live,
The dog ready to go, but the man nothin' to give,
You ask, What's the point? What was I tryin' to say?
How come nothin' happened, along their path that day?
It pleases me that you ask, just where my mind was at,
I really have no idea, the dog was chasin' a cat!
Copyright © Sammy Holt Sr | Year Posted 2005
|
Details |
Sammy Holt Sr Poem
Because of dissension, we do not mention,
Parts of the body, on the Radio,
But others are not, like a nose you got,
You can say it all, on the morning show,
But always first place, attached to your face,
When breathing is hard, a finger must go,
Restriction removed, gently and smooth,
Breathing is better, and the air can flow,
But sometimes we pick, and then we do stick,
Or maybe just flip, to another spot,
And there it will stay, til another day,
This little bugger, is now hard snot!
Copyright © Sammy Holt Sr | Year Posted 2005
|