Eight-line Poems

Out for the Count

Out for the Count

One knock at the door I’ve not heard before,
two lovers at least to visit the priest,
three making a crowd and talking aloud,
four knives for the beast that makes up the feast,
five fingers at hand and five in the band,
six eggs in the box not guarded by locks,
seven the number but no cucumber,
eight are the wet socks that dried on the rocks.

Nine head of cattle, taken in battle,
ten is for metric, so asymmetric,
eleven the tanners minding their manners,
twelve is a dozen, though not my cousin,
thirteen unlucky, and in Kentucky,
fourteen two sevens, shout to the heavens,
fifteen be three fives and we’re still alive,
sixteen is sweeter, more so than Peter.


Line count: 16
Internal rhymes
For Express It In Eight, 12.09.23
Prompt: Write a poem consisting of two eight-line stanzas.