First, Ace won,
and then he won again.
Changed his name from Jude Ace,
to just plain Jude, became,
an Ace without a trace.


To deuce, too.
Had a 35 coupe, who
wished it were a 32.
Put a deuce grille shell on,
looked the look, but,
didn't do the doo.


Third Trey III,
thought a motorcyclist he'd be.
After hitting his third tree,
traded it in on a Z3.


Fore for four,
on the fourth green in four,
he was shown the door.
Didn't yell "fore,"
a guy's head was his score,
he played golf no more.


Fifth, fin, five,
give me that hand jive.
With a hand slight like that,
we be getting fat,
ready to take a dive.


Sax, sex, six,
in the sack, he had his picks.
Hef was the one,
when he wanted to have fun,
jazz was in, and,
one always turned into six.


Seben, seven, 007
Bond was his name,
intrigue was his game,
wouldn't catch him,
at a 7-11.


Ate ought eight
who do I appreciate?
Only the great,
deserve an "eight",
out of 10.


No ninth, nine
No, not my Clementine.
Oh my darling, Oh my darling,
it’s for you I pine,
Not old Engine No. 9.


Tenth ten, X
10 to midnight never came,
kept pushing that clock back again,
until it returned to you know when,
and we'll all be blown away then.


Lebendy, Lebendy, Leben
died and went to heaven.
Afore I got there, I stopped,
I swear, at a local 7-11.


Twelfth twelve, dozen
If a hen lays a baker’s dozen,
does it come from China,
and I marry my cousin?

Mayan Calendar


More Poems

My Place

Read War's End, the Novel

Copyright 2011 © Ronald W. Hull


A little numerology foolishness. 
My apologies to poetry contest-winning poet,
Robert Jude [Ace] Forese