PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

A dear little pony named Troy

Was owned by a mean, nasty boy

Who gave him a kick

Or a whack with a stick

Just as well Troy was only a toy.





Old Mother Hubbard did bake,

For her many children, a cake.

They ate it from Monday

Right though to next sunday

And gave what remained to their snake.





An ape who sat high in a tree

Was practicing philosophy

Said I evolved from man

As did all of my clan

We are higher now, as you see.





Doing some sums is a pain

For my poor old brain it's a strain

It's really a sin

For they do my head in

And I mostly must do them again.





My drapes are a beautiful green

A style that is fit for a queen

Each night I'm certain

To ring down the curtain

On darkening skies evening scene.





A stallion was racing one day

When another horse got in the way

The poor stallion stumbled

And over he tumbled

The other horse just said neigh, neigh.





A rabbit went out on the town

Wearing her best fluffy gown

Her strong urge to shop

Kept her on the hop

All day till the sun's going down.





In a bowl was some tasty veg soup

I put in my spoon for a scoop

In pain then I sung

For it scalded my tongue

And it took me a while to recoup.





A man had a very loud wife

Whose tongue was a sharp as a knife

It's hard cutting edge

Could topple a hedge

And wherever she went she caused strife.





Eggs are a mighty fine feed

A dozen or so's what I need

A nice runny yolk

Would please many folk

And it matters, not one jot, the breed.





While England is knee deep in snow

Our sun has a hot, fiery glow

If we could exchange

Just some of each range

We both could be comfy, I know.





A snake in the grass is a danger

A hidden and slithery ranger

A deep wound inflictor

or boa constrictor

so likely to wound any stranger.





A rattler his rattle did shake

Because he was one deadly snake

You must quicky pass

That old snake in the grass

To stand there and chat's a mistake.





N.Z. fire fighters are going

To Aussie where hot flames are flowing

The Aussies have tried

But so many have died

And tall flames just keep right on glowing.





When chilly old winter steps in

My blood feels abnormally thin

Now that I'm older

I hate feeling colder

But still I bear up with a grin.





I am so eager and yearning

To master sign language I'm learning

With my poor old brain

It is quite a strain

I can feel all the grey matter burning.





A lovely new recipe what

On cold days would keep us all hot

Was all put together

In inclement weather

And then the whole stew went to pot.





I bargain for bargains galore

I do love a cheap, junky store

There I would browse

For many long hours

And come out, not bankrupt, but poor.





Desirable price tags are free

There's nothing that gives me more glee

It just does the job

As I'm not a snob

A giveaway's seems great to me.





My hinges are now a might creaky

And sometimes inclined to be squeaky

At winter's cold bite

They put up a fight

But their stiffness prods me to look peaky.





Oh,what a great disappointment

A pain not resolved with an ointment

A plane on the ground

And not skyward bound

Causing a travel disjointment.







A pilot I wanted to be

When I was a girl, but you see

When young I got wed

My ambition was dead

But flying's a great joy to me.