3Rd Poems - Poems about 3Rd

They went mudd’n down at the water hole Getting their trucks filthy was the goal Grandma said they needed to bless her soul They baptized that old lady in the water hole Everyone has a beard down in the holler Because haircuts cost more than a dollar The best rednecks live in squaller My pig is Sophie, you may call her. We ride...

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The smeary fingers, Left unwashed. Leave prints, All over the gloss. On bright metal handles, Drawers semi closed. Up and down walls, Even on a nose. Momma said, "Wash your hands! ...

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A rose bush possesses the same amount of beauty as a rose. The thorns compliment its shape and give it character | | | | /\ /\ ...

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a gopher sat on my toe today sassy and saucy, his name was Ray What fun do you have? The scamp asked me I rocked my toe, so he could see Do that again, he goaded me I teeter-tottered him to my knee Come back tomorrow the gopher said He blew me a kiss and my face turned red...

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Tornado Jim was an unruly evil F-5. He barely left anyone alive. Threw cattle and tractors into the air. Crushed combines and backhoes; he did not care. Gloated that he had destroyed more farms than his sis. She gave him a mean finger and snarled with a hiss. Next time she destroyed, she vowed to be worse than him. She was always...

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Sagebrush Sam was tired of blowing His impatience was keenly showing Always in sandy land that needed no mowing He yearned for Iowa where it was snowing...

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Bouncy jouncy lemon cake Made by grandma who loved to bake Rolled into balls, it bounced fine We did not like lemon, orange or lime...

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My jeep took over the driving today Heard his radio sing,”hip hip hooray!” How this happened I truly cannot say But he snatched my keys and drove away...

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When walking on a wet floor, Prints are left up to the door. For the leopard to follow, Deep in a line. A layer of water, Becomes quite slick. Pick up a broom, Becomes a hockey stick. ...

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Momma said, "Don't chortle! It's rude. But I won the game! My small fame. Can't I just enjoy the win? ...

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Fingers so sore from learning the chords, Getting the rhytme without knowing the words. It all sounds so good here in my head, Blood from my fingers turning the fret board red. But I've got to keep trying, just carry on, Or the thoughts that inspired me will be lost and all gone. I've got to decide on the ideal...

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If I were a submarine I would jump out of the water Checking to see if other ships Were doing what they ought-er Jules Verne would come back And write lively stories about me I would be deemed the sheriff Of the Mediterranean Sea...

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Goliath frog jumped out of a mailbox Chased off a dog, a hog, and a fluffy fox They straight away ran up to a giant ox ox was terribly ill with itchy chicken pox You two are on your own! Yelled the irritated fox Goliath frog jumped all the way back to that mailbox What do we do now? The hog...

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The very abridged version recounting untold tragicomic storied life of Matthew Scott Harris I led a boring life. The end. All joking aside, now the epilogue. As a bookish fellow born January 13th,1959 he attended school and got promoted as a mediocre student, who honestly nearly failed every grade courtesy my nasty, short and brutish doppelgänger, who nixed, sabotaged, waylaid me a little boy blue (nothing but...

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Am I a shy monkey?, ...

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