Biography of George Hunter
I'm just a rhymer, not a poet,
Read one of mine and then you'll know it.
You don't have to pretend you understand,
It's as plain as day, like the palm of your hand.
Nothing esoteric, abstruse or recondite here,
Just something to read while drinking your beer.
George Hunter Poems
There was a big feline named Dancer Who asked her mate for an answer. How do you titillate an ocelot? Why you just oscillate its titalot.
A Cat Called Nan I once had a cat called Nan Whose tail got caught in a fan.
On a lazy summer afternoon All of us boys were lying in the shade Talking about all kinds of things In a world we never made.
A Day At The Beach
One summer's day, with nothing better to do, I went to the beach to enjoy the view. Lots of cute babes lying around in the sand Trying their best to improve their tan.
It's Tuesday. it's Tuesday, By Gosh, by Gee, it's Tuesday. Will this be my Goodnewsday Or just another Bluesday?
Six Weather Haiku
A beautiful day Sun’s shining, birds are singing God’s in his heaven.
Did you ever think that when you smell something good Like roasting coffee or cedar wood Or baking bread or sweet perfume That actual molecules are floating around the room?
A Strange Custom
As I was walking down the path In my head I did some higher math. They say that one and one makes two But I know that that's not always true
001 - A Cure For Everything
CAUTION: Reading this rhyme may give you a headache. I think I’ll take an Alka Seltzer to relieve my gut, Eating too much Mexican has put me in a rut.
(Pay Toilet) Here I sit all broken hearted Paid a nickel and couldn't get started
A Gal Named Grace
There once was a gal named Grace Who had an ugly face —She said, 'My face I don't mind it, —'Cause I am behind it
Fire And Ice
Fire and ice, fire and ice, Fire and ice, they will suffice. With the huge flames glowing, glowing And the glaciers overflowing.
A Horny Tale
There was a cow from Californy Who was very, very horny. He wasn’t sexy, instead Two biggies grew from his head
There was a cowboy from Wyoming Who sang to the cows in the gloaming. -It was all they could take -And it kept them awake.
If I could think
Of some lines to go before,
I'd have a poem.
Or do I need To?
Brautigan could write