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Funny Art Poems | Funny Poems About Art

These Funny Art poems are examples of Funny poems about Art. These are the best examples of Funny Art poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Iambic Pentameter | |

Chicken Cot UFO

Chicken Cot UFO

It crossed the gloaming skies above the roofs,
in awe we followed then, its jazzy course;
mysterious would be the incensed spoofs
this ireful ship, upon us, would enforce.

Hmm..
..We said! Abominable was the ship
that traced its gaudy eights in air with hum;
predestined to avenge our ego trip,
atrocious poulets, would not succumb.

The chicken soldiers were a frightful troop
in pink-pistachio uniforms with spots,
that insolent, bombarded us with moop,
to hit our heads that were devoid of thoughts.

In order to placate the chicken troop,
some started to recite their verse to skies;
confronting that attacking chicken group,
- bird poems they opposed to battle cries.

The angry war-birds listened to the verse,
that was composed by stunned, exposed confreres,
their cackle was bemocking and adverse,
- upon their heads they wore rouge voluperes.

This myth reflected what would happen if
extraterrestrial cots invaded Earth,
relentless chicken-birds in martial tiff
would moop upon some artists of top worth.

© 12/11/2013, G. Venetopoulos

moop = Matter Out Of Place


Details | Dramatic Verse | |

Attention: WORD NERDS--------- The Eight Parts of Speech

---------------------- "Word Nerds" (like me)...
************Please Have Fun & Read VERY Closely:)***********


now and again
a word 
sneakily obscure
approaches the fog in me
screams its name 
suddenly 
apropos adverbs appear
clearly 
startling 
perplexing 
precarious adjectives
slick little nouns
caught hiding 
beyond babbling brooks
sent to exile
defiling crooks
"pro"fessional nouns
jailed
beneath eight parts of speech
preposition'ed 
pre'fixed subjects
elusive predicates
slithering suffix'ation
turn-ing key
delicately 
through holes
freeing vocabulary
trapped 
within prison walls
synonyms 
pen bars 
filled in the past 
participles
plagued 
like Job's tedious job 
of siphoning
deciphering 
homographs from heteronyms 

words never mind...
 
they wind the mind
gliding 
in the wind...





Details | Free verse | |

My Sudoku Life

And I walk
across numerical figments
speaking hyperbole dialect to their imaginations.

Numb, blocky gaps
whisper invitation to secret club.

Enticing my stature
to belong
to become exponent’s side-kick.

So they can welcome me with open arms.

Coating my digits with inoperable tumors
double-knotted in hot pink laced bow
and baby-breath scent.

They even left a Walmart Rollback smiley face sticker
with crack residue on right cheek
and a comic-style bubble caption, “welcome home puppet”.

Yes!

This is exactly how Mother 1 told me it would be.

Kinda like marriage,
but less detail-oriented.

But, I could never fit in.

For I am neither positive
nor negative
about their (cult) ural ways.

Timing would always be off.

An arm from the clock that suffered a stroke at Midnight…

They’d never understand,
how they’d alter this unevenly, odd numerical figment.

For they’ll just calculate,
deduce,
my sum with rusty protractor.

This Zero, into a fraction...

© Drake J. Eszes


Details | Limerick | |

Poetry Destryer Vs Gareth James (round 3)

For who is this poetry destroyer
A cop, but who else would employ her?
As she spies no end
No poet, she pretends
Vanilla ice in leopard skin fur.

You ask If I want mommies hug
wouldn’t that be nice, lovely and snug
You just want to hold me
Under that great oak tree
And kiss me on your picnic rug

You want the vultures to enjoy
My sweet flesh, is that your ploy?
Wanting to be them
Eyeing up my sweet gem
Tell the truth, you just want a toy boy 

Well our future together would be bright
Injets, pens and cartridges in sight
You’d color me in
Goodness what a sin
As I would always do the best write

Hang up your gloves as your are weak
You are also classed as an antique
A low blow I know
Don’t cry, don’t go
You can come back with a new technique.

If I don’t hear from the poetry cop 
I will know I have come out on top
Good bye little girl
Give us one more twirl
Now, this should be the final full stop (.)!

P.D, this is the first one ive done. Took me a while. Very good fun though. I kind of limit’s 
the write.


Details | Rhyme | |

My Fair Maiden

I called upon yonder window That was up to high for me to be For my maiden gracefully sleeps there In her bed,beside the sea I asked her to come hither For her beautiful face I yearned to see Twas yawning in the morning dew As she slowly came to the window for me To my amazement came forth a ragged wench Whos hair was as raged as the sea With eyes that were burnt as nightposts To bloodshot and squinty to even see For this was not my fair maiden? Whos beauty would forever be But a drunken harlot who came hither That she spent the night with instead of me My heart now broken to pieces Wondering how could this tragedy be? For my maiden now sleeps with a harlot? Without the love that she once gave to me? My mind was now enraged So I dashed for the wrestling sea With thoughts of drowning this useless body That's no longer good enough for my maiden to see With water just over waist height And a large wave about to crash over me I heard a calling from yonder window Twas my beautiful maiden as I turned to see Her beautiful eyes in such distress Her beautiful hair flowing so care free Twas the beauty of my fair maiden That I had called upon yonder window to see For the thoughts that raced through my mind Evidently,weren't truely what happend to be For it was her promiscuous sister Who had come from the other side of the sea My heart now rebuilt with a sigh of love A large wave suddenly crashes over me The last thing I saw was my fair maiden As my lifeless body is carried out by the sea
DannyBoy:1-24-13


Details | Alliteration | |

Stink Thinking

Poem by: Mr. Ronald Watson
Sep. 13, 2012
My Poetry on PoetrySoup

Stinking Thinking

Stinking thinking/ it leads to drinking./
What moisten the soul without an inkling?/
Unto making a wild left turn /while the right signal light were blinking./
Within a mild mix of rice, hops, and barley,
Since/ it is too much laugher at a karaoke party./
How Elvis sounds like,/ a broken Bob Marley?/
Now it’s as if,/ inhibitions are lowed/
Frozen in time/ and slipping far out of control./
As intuitions of minds does loathe,/ as such weariness echoes for tomorrow./
Yet,/ a stinking breath that smells just as death/ and it's where all funky asses dwells./
Though/ all hung over /and unjustified to flinging heavy heads into that porcelain king,/ 
Even this is a sight for red sore eyed Kings!/ 
It is an aftermath of ravishing through them royal purple cloth bags./
So/ afraid to admit that shallowness slowly drags!/
When,a sense of clarity which will just admit it.
That stinking thinking is difficult to kick, but
One day at a time, it is the only way to shine, or get fixed.  

Thank youMy Poetry on PoetrySoup
God Bless.


Details | Haiku | |

It is now

Ain't a word, you said.
but it takes a daring gust 
for things start to be.


Details | Verse | |

Enigma's Calling

Extraordinary, I am 
Craving for unusual thoughts
Endless exploration without boundary
Understanding  the gift I shouldn't fought
 
Invisible drawings in my mind
Playing with the words in my head
My passion
The food of my soul
 
I feel so lucky
The random thoughts
A lifetime companion
A self esteem builder
A goal planner
Be my forever life saver
 
I write more
I talk less
I want to please
I chose to bore
 
What tickles me the most
Is to know what I'm for
Thinking is my love
When  my mind goes empty
That's when I hate
 
My day dreaming lust
Organizing things in my mind
Playing roles of simulation
Where images of art is my vision
And words of attitude is my heart


Details | Quatrain | |

Poets

Poets
Why is it poetry, is a like dirty word and talked of in undertones?
It’s like a naughty postcard, more flesh than there are bones.
Poets tend to deny their art, “I’m not a poet, I’m a rhym-er”
Come on you lot get stuck in don’t be a poetry two-timer.

After a glass of alcohol some may admit-“I like a little verse”
“But no I m not into poetry…” It’s like a speech they did rehearse.
Now poems I’m getting good at, but famous poets I don’t know any
Don’t ask me if I’m a poet, because in wages I don’t earn a penny.

Now rhyme I am not bad at, but at free verse I would stink
As for haiku, senryu, and other forms, I stink I really think…
I listened to some so called poets; decry their art the other day
They denied their art while they listened, to what each other had to say.

Standing there with their poems held high, “I’m not a poet” they all said
Well get down from the microphone and let’s hear a poet instead…
They pass their poems around the table, like some black market currency
Not wanting anyone to see it, but they are at a reading for poetry.

So be loud and proud you poets stand firm for what you believe in
Tell them you are a poet, and just get used to all the teasing
I used to be a shy poet and I write verse with some frivolity
But the definition in my dictionary says “words with a pleasing quality.”

So now I am open to judgement from all of you wonderful poets
You have all commented on my work, but do you really know it?
You all have qualities that scare me, you really seem so clever
So can I finally admit to being a poet, from now on  and forever?	
~GG~ 27/09/2012
 




Details | Free verse | |

This Poem Stinks So Badly it Doesn't Deserve a Name

This poem stinks.

It doesn't rhyme 
It doesn't do anything 
It has a little alliteration

well...

it will have some

because that's the easiest poetic element to incorporate 
and if it didn't have any poetic elements 
it would not be a poem 
but would be prose with 
randomly 
inserted 
carriage returns...

(are carriage returns extinct?)

and that would be dishonest. 

This is not a lying poem. 
That would be oxymoronic. 
It's a stinky poem.

And when I finish writing it 
I'm gonna print it out 
and tear it up 
into little bitty 
teensy weensy pieces 
(if I have enough patience to get that small) 
and flush it down the commode 
so it can join all the other 
excrementally effluential essences

(note the alliteration)

of all the other stuff that stinks 
almost as badly as 
this poem.


Details | Free verse | |

My Love I'm not Cheating

My love...let me explain this situation,
I had no intentions of cheating on you.
I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.
You saw me with her and it meant nothing,
I just held her for a moment in my hand.

Your skin glows like the moons reflection on water, 
She looked anorexic sick...and pale green before vomiting.
Your scent’s like liquid caramel whenever you move.
She smelt like salty...sweat on a hot day.

My yearning heart throbs to your sloshing voice, 
And I salivate to the sound of your name.
The evening flutters like butterfly wings.
I am calmed by your taste that I carry into, 
The twilight of my soul and hold dear to my heart. 

I’m filled with hope, may I dry your condensation tears,
That steadily stream down your plastic face?
I didn’t mean to make you cry...my love.

As my taste is satisfied, it reminds me 
Of your moistened contents when I first met you.
In the hush of night, hearing you psss... turns me on,
My taste...buds leap to my mouth‘s palate. 

I wait in the moonlight for your secret 23 flavors, 
So that we may merge as one, liquid to stomach.
In the search of glorious satisfaction, 
Of having my life...moistened by your touch.

Please believe me...she means nothing to me.
I just held her in my hand for a moment,
I’m loyal to you with all my heart and soul,
My lips never touched hers, I promise.

I would never switch to Mountain Dew.
I’m in love with you and only you,
Satisfy my life with your liquid...love.
I longed to hold you in my hand,
You...my Dr. Pepper...come here let me kiss you.
I'm in love with your cool and refreshing taste.........ahhh.


Details | Rhyme | |

Walk Softly


I love the way you walk in your stilettos
The clickety click sound of your heels 
The seductive sway of your hips 
And the luring gaze that appeals

But when you walk softy
That is what I love the best
As your stilettos cover new territories 
Across my bony chest

Oh the view my Soupies the view
Of man’s weakness I do stare
But never trust a woman in stilettos
As your bit lay unattended and bare.

Uhhhhhhhh!


 I am the Mad Poet. For Debbie Guzzi.  (I never enter contests to win.)


Details | Rhyme | |

What a Way to Go

Of course it would involve making love
If I had to choose the way that I would die
Fornicating until my heart gives out
Is something I might like to try

The mortician might have a job to do
In trying to fix the smile stuck on my face
And the cause of death on the certificate
Might result in a little disgrace

But alas, my heart seems to last much longer
Than the other required part for this act
But I am willing to keep on giving it a try
And on that you can bet as a fact


Written for the "Die A Fun Death" contest.


Details | Blank verse | |

The 1960's

The lava lamp glows
in a room that's otherwise dark
while the guitar of Hendrix
slices through the air
listened to by a wanna-be beatnik
getting stoned on weed
pretending not to care
and doesn't know there's a sign above him
that reads "Down with the Establishment"


Details | Rhyme | |

Sheep's Lament

It's nature's way that in the spring 
Emotions make a lamb's soul sing 
And so it was my young heart found 
That love is not by species bound 

Well cruelly spent, did cupid's dart 
Pierce deep my foolish woolly heart 
A wiser sheep would fain desert 
Such love unwise and bound to hurt. 

Nor was it then that common sense 
Came forth to give me sound defence 
No matter how well meant and groomed 
My ardent love was clearly doomed. 

For fate is fickle, fate unkind 
Fate unhinged my young sheep's mind 
Though strong inside my true love burns 
It never wins my love's returns 

So ardent burn my ovine fires 
Kindling noble deep desires 
But I know what e'er I do 
That four legs never yet won two 

She lives a life I cannot know 
And goes to places sheep don't go 
I patient wait and hope she'll pass 
But know she'll never share my grass. 

I know it's doomed, I know I've lost 
My passion most unkindly crossed 
For even if she knew my heart 
I know our lives must stay apart. 

But maybe she might scratch my nose 
My love troth's a half-eaten rose 
With that held in her lovely hand, 
To think on, she might understand.


Details | Lyric | |

A Piece Of Lace

[Verse-1]
I watched you walk by yesterday, and yes again you turned and looked away
You never give me the time of day, and you're always looking sad and grey
A small piece of lace from your pink dress, is all that's left of you and me
Wish I could take back yesterday, when I went astray and set you free
I wish I could find the words to say, instead of making you look away
Oh! It's funny how a little piece of lace, makes me yearn for your embrace

[Verse-2]
I know that I still need your love, because my heart is always feeling blue
And I guess I'll never be the same, for playing around and being untrue
You gotta know this isn't what I wanted, cause now I'm always on my knees
But I can see how you like your freedom, of being with him and not with me
But baby a twist of fate's what tore us apart, and placed this look upon my face
Oh! it's still funny how a little piece of lace, makes me yearn for your embrace

[Chorus]
A piece of lace from your pink dress, keeps putting me down won't let me rest
And these cloudy skies are back today, holding my heart and soul at bay
I pray you come and take this lace, and wipe these tears from my face
Oh! It's funny how a little piece of lace, makes me yearn for your embrace

[Verse-3]
All those things that you used to do, is what made me fall in love with you
You gave me your all once upon a time, but like a fool I up and flew
And the things I went and said that day, made you fade and drift away
I never shoulda treated you that way, cause baby I need you here today
The sun keeps hiding behind the clouds, and all I do is sit and cry
And this piece of lace holds my heart at bay, I don't know...maybe it's a sign

[Chorus]
A piece of lace from your pink dress, keeps putting me down won't let me rest
And these cloudy skies are back today, holding my heart and soul at bay
I pray you come and take this lace, and wipe these tears from my face
Oh! It's funny how a little piece of lace, makes me yearn for your embrace

Oh! It's funny how a little piece of lace, makes me yearn for your embrace


Details | Lyric | |

You Won't Tell Them How You Lied

[verse-1]
Tonight it feels like, the end of the world
Tonight you showed me, you were never my girl
I wonder do you know, what my heart is doing
Well girl it's breaking in two, since you've gone

[verse-2]
Go ahead tell those lies, to all your friends
Go ahead tell them, what a big fool i've been
I wonder will you tell them, you have a heart of stone
Or will you call them, and joke about me on the phone

[chorus]
Well be sure to tell them, how you broke my heart
And how funny it was, when I set down and cried
Tell them how, you tore my world apart
'Cause I know, you won't tell them how you lied

[verse-3]
You're gonna have to be careful, when you're drinking
You're gonna have to be sober, when you're bragging
You'll have to learn to shut your mouth, when your wasted
Or everyone will no your a liar, and how your mind is twisted

[chorus]
Well be sure you tell them, how you broke my heart
And how funny it was, when I set down and cried
And tell them how, you tore my world apart
'Cause girl I know, you won't tell them how you lied


Details | Free verse | |

number 10.)
Appropriations will be cost effective only when mass production is labeled'for 
esthetic use only'.
number 9).
All committee decisions must be based on my own and no one elses.
number8).
The 'sleek new modern' must be based on Baroque precepts that stem from 
facistic-anarchical individualistic expression over the state.
number7).
The media is to be tightly controlled based on my novel
number6).
There is no number 6.
number 5).
The deliniation of taste will be non linear.
number 4).
I will be awash with cash I now don't have.
number 3).
Teenage angst will be programmed into everyone well into their eighties.
number 2).
There may be a number 2 in a parallel universe.
And the number one result When Artists Finally take over the World is........
ME!


Details | I do not know? | |

Starless Night: The Art Of Giving (Rhyme Incorporated) part 2

Thinking of O, Ms. Jill Martin was in her solitude “Quietly…breathing”
That, she just waved her hand greeting April Lewis “Without Speaking”
I spied humorist Donald Meikle, writing a “Note to a Lady in Waiting”

Let’s party! exclaimed silent Sami Al-Khalili, but not “Only In Winter”
That’s a real cool idea, and I said, how about in “The Field Of Summer”
Dame Marcyle Beer offered her place, called “Welcome To Fort Beer”

A rising star Taryn Melville proudly breezed in: saying “I Am From…”
But, party guy Anthony Slauson showed us his “Fingers of Freedom” 
Leaving noble Alyssa Finley’s young mind fixated in “Dreams Come”

A free verse expert JeanMarie Marchese of Homosassa, uttered “Slow”
Let snow lover Linda Smith tell us first her “Footprints In The Snow”
Indeed, we’ve our time to introduce ourselves, before “The Cockcrow”

Sweet Elaine George arrived, when the night still had a “Tender Heart” 
With a special gift, for Raquel Nicholson, ‘cos she has “a broken heart”
I learned that Big John Tanaskow did not wish to go “Back At the Start”

The party made poetic Mark Hansen expressed himself, in “Cloud Nine”
Perhaps he had consumed much of shy type Nicola Steel’s “Plumy Wine”
For he was too excited, to meet a bright Seema Ali, on a “Poetry Online”

Before the party was over, Juanita Ganir, sprung from her “Sacred Well”
And, old Londoner Matt Doe spoke, of his mighty “Showdown In Hell”
To a sexy Tamiviolet Manchas, but, she xoxoxo urged him, “Don’t Tell”

Many thanks, to photographer William Jones, for his “Living In Color”
A souvenir that reflects my own plea to “Make Me Whole, Once More”
A plea to everyone, to all friends, to remember that “My Name Is Thor”


Details | Free verse | |

Princesses

Pretty princesses
Dancing all around
Frolicking through fields
Very beautiful
Just like you!


Details | Light Poetry | |

The Best Hearts With Strawberry Jam On


                                   There are many different hearts
                                              Hearts in love
                                        A heart that is happy
                                  Hearts that jumps in your chest
                                          A heart that weeps
                                 Broken hearts, we have all heard of
                                        Hearts suffering in pain
                               Sweet and delicious chocolate hearts
                            Hearts showing us where the toilet door is
                              Hearts that are red or pink in our diary
                                    Hearts may look cute and small
                                Those I like best is the waffle hearts
                                        with strawberry jam on

        
                          *  *       *  * 
                        *      *   *      *
                        *       * *       *
                         *       *       *   
                           *           *
                             *       *
                               *   *
                                * *             
                                 *

                                         
                                                          
22.04.2012
A-L Andresen


Details | Rhyme | |

Red Bull

~ADHD~

Beautiful Coffee spree
Close your eyes and fell high like a tree
Nothing beats the sugar in my energy
I can't live my life caffeine free
Somebody stop me!!!!!


 :)


Details | Iambic Pentameter | |

Blank Verse Rhyme

Blank Verse Rhyme

The master said “create blank verse in lines of ten”.
Form five Iambic feet without a rhyme.
“These five Iambic feet you must achieve”.
The verse will have a rhythm you can hear,
when studied closely this will be revealed.

For, lines of blank verse rhyming discontents
the master. “Do it over, take all night”!
The lines of blank verse sing a little song,
each syllable, each rhyme, you’ll hear them ring!
You’ll sing the tune of verses blank and pure.

And now I keep up with this blank verse trick,
I hear its tick ten syllables per line.
It rhymes so soft; I have it mastered now,
so naturally it falls right from my pen.
Oh, where will this blank verse rhyme find an end?

Yet, twenty lines of syllables came out
much faster still than I had thought they should.
I love each rhyme, the timing so precise,
I hope it pleased the eye and ear. I turned
it in, it came back very clearly signed

“Rejected”.


-Tiffany R-2009


Details | Rhyme | |

A witches halloween

As the slaving sun sets on a tiring day, 
the moon arrives and shines the clouded darkness away, 
little brats--i mean kids--run out to the streets, 
yelling and screaming as they run amok through the town, 
smiles on their faces; only when their delicious 
sweets are taken away, do they frown, 
doorbell to doorbell they go, 
tossing candy around to and fro, 
the hour draws near the time of the wicked witch,
Okay children, run along home, out of the darkness, 
out of every cemetery, out of every ditch, 
no one wants to be the victim of the evil, and wicked witch. 
on this All Hallows Eve, 
she calls from her grave, 
wanting to live forever, and find her immortal mister, 
but she fails every time, 
because she can't ever get rid of her annoying, 
blond-haired, dimwitted sister.


Details | Light Poetry | |

My Telephone

Winter nights, the darkness comes quick
Key in door, to an empty house
Jacket falls fast right on the floor
I stare at the stand, at the telephone for sure

There she sits, alone, unmoving
No blinking light
No message at all
From a lovers voice or even a call from the mall

The ritual is the same, night after night
I pick up the phone, yes dial tone is there
I check the wires, all attached with great care
Its not broken, same as this morning

I confess, yes I stare at the phone over there

The phone is a functioning, I am assured
I call the weather line, yes a test but I was bored
They tell me is all sunny up over yonder
So no one calls me, of this I must ponder

I confess yes I stare, at the dark phone sitting there

Maybe the answering system parts are malfunctioning
Maybe she really did some exotic oh calling
Oh what I am saying, she’s out to the ball
While I look at telephone, alone in the hall

I confess yes I stare, I stare and stare

So another night, outside shines the bright city lights
I open the door to the darkness in fright
For oh my god, I see a blinking light
My heart beats in excitement, this is surely the night

I stare at a ringing telephone

Oh my what a delight!!!!!!!!

Click
Wrong number


Details | ABC | |

The Vent

im livin in a world, where all eyes on me.
trying to curve my own route.
but route 66 keeps finding its way to me.
ive been plenty sick, in all the events layed before me.
even when i reflect to my lowest points
i dont regret any of the choices
That I’ve deployed in my era
A lot of it by error, but hey
We live in hell conditions and there ain’t no air condition 
Or any guidelines when life throws you in the sidelines
But when hindsight twenty twenty hits
You’ll begin to understand life’s a bunch of equations and you in the mix of it
An you’ll have to think twice, before running into a situation and becoming the best of it
Situations
it’s what got me here, it’s what got us here
Ran with my thoughts blazing up to her place and
Guess what happened next
She opened up heaven’s gate
And just before late I slipped out
Simply put 
I’m a Grown ass man
Doin his thing, waitin to blow up like an old land mine
In doin what he drools over
But time after time 
Something decides to creep up and cover the light
Lost my way
Then I revoked to ever know, I ever thought that way
But in the in between time, that in the mean time 
Spent a lot of time
Gettin pissed off just to medicate and lift off
Don’t need Don Perion to sip off
Already had my way with the bottle
Even thought to get back with the trouble and rejoin the hustle
That’s just what happens to a man who really knows his old ways
Whos tired of making ends meet and ponders getting back to the streets.
Memory sets in and he remembers an O.G. saying
No matter how tall your pockets stand when you ball
Eventually times gonna make you fall
Fall
And I as I pull myself together 
I don’t wanna end up like the twin towers rubble
I mean no offence to nine eleven but at that time I probably could have used a reverend
But all that’s irrelevant now
because i live with a different perspective now

there you go you made it to the end :-) comment if you like, constructive criticism wanted as well.


Details | Free verse | |

Important Safety Information

Like all prescription Coulrophobias, CLOWNS may increase the chance of heart disease 
or risk factors for it, such as high blood pressure of when clowns are seen for long 
periods.

CLOWNS should not be seen right before or after certain heart surgeries.

Serious skin reactions or stomach and intestine problems such as colourful bleeding and 
humorous ulcers, can occur without warning and may cause animal balloons. Elderly 
patients and those taking cotton candy are at increased risk for stomach bleeding and 
ulcers.

Tell your doctor if you have: a history of passing out at the circus, fleeing from mascots 
or kidney and liver problems. CLOWNS should not be seen in late pregnancy.

Do not see CLOWNS if you’ve had an asthma attack, hives or other allergic reactions to 
bad magic tricks or any other Coulrophobia medicine or drugs called red nose.

Life threatening allergic reactions can occur with CLOWNS. Get help right way if you’ve 
had swelling of the face or trouble breathing.

Prescription CLOWNS should be seen exactly as prescribed at the lowest dose possible 
and for the shortest time needed.


Details | Rhyme | |

The Da Vinci Mode

                                  Uncouth, unschooled in art, 
                                          that's what you'll say of me,
                                  You know, I've tried so hard, 
                                          but I still have to see
                                  da Vinci's Mona Lisa's mythic, 
                                          mystic smile
                                  bewitching folks allegedly 
                                          even from a mile.

                                  It looks to me she parts 
                                          her lips so daintily
                                  to let a drunken hiccup out 
                                          so gracefully,
                                  or stop a vulgar burp, 
                                          hyperacidity,
                                  or hide those nicotine-blackened 
                                          teeth artfully.

                                  But honestly, nothing in her 
                                          mouth's symmetry
                                  remotely resembles a smiling 
                                          mystery,
                                  perhaps she's toothless, some 
                                          dental deformity,
                                  believe you me, I took up 
                                          ortho-dentistry!


Details | Acrostic | |

Easter EGG, Abecedarian: with egg shape-

                            
                          =====
                       April Aroma...
                     Beckons Beauty.
                   Come Children!!!....
                 Daisies Daffodil.........
               EASTER EGGS EVERYWHERE
                Fun Filled Freedom.......
                  Giddy Giggly Games...
                    How ya' Hangin'???
                       Just Jolly Joey!
                           =====

              HAPPY EASTER EVERYONE!!!!


Details | Light Poetry | |

Dear Santa

Santa, I do confess
I feel a little bit strange
A middle aged man sitting on your knee
Whispering into your ear, my grandest wish
Let us both hope people do not get the wrong idea here
I am at my wits end Dear Santa
All I want for Christmas
Is for her to call me
So that I may here her voice
Like a musical saga
A symphony of  Celtic dreams
The honey that flows deep into my heart
The sweetness that grows in my soul

Am I demanding too much?
Of this earthly world
That I, demand heavenly wishes
That I dream in colors unreal
That I cry for things that seem the impossible
The North Pole and all its promise
Dream
Oh but I must dream, dream or die

No more dreams
Is death for sure
Let me not be murdered
By a phone that rings not


ps
Dear Santa

I am disappointed, no poetry memberships, no phone calls in the night from lovers
No mistletoe even in me dreams, Gaelic winds blow cold over me heart
Id ask for a train set, but the way things are going you’d give me a train wreck
Bloody hell on you Santa, you must be busy helping nice people, cheers anyways