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Funny Confusion Poems | Funny Poems About Confusion

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

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Details | Prose Poetry | |


So I walked into my local supermarket
to buy my weekly shipment of Kit Kat bars,
Cinnamon Toast Crunch,
and Ovaltine powder mix.

As I shake off the snow on my fake Timberland boots,
my skin,
coated in frozen animation,
thaws into warmth’s teardrops from
the supermarket’s 75 degree vents.

This moist sense of happiness was quickly interrupted
when I heard Wilson Phillips, “Hold On”
over the PA system.

Thankfully, the cutlery isle was just to my left. 
So, now, I had plans!

But, before I could commit felony’s song,
I saw her.

A Portuguese goddess
with a strut that can ruin a man’s dignity.

She had Autobahn curves,
dark brown curls of hair & visuals,
and thick flesh meat that even Vegans would envy.

Her face lacked Maybelline coated misapprehension.
Thank God!
Cause I never did like clowns.

After staring longingly at her,
like a crack head with impulsive eyes upon a broken/unlabeled bag of baby powder,
she breezed past my stifled posture and clocked in to work.

She didn’t even get a chance to smell my $500 cologne called “Piece of Me”.

So with new-found urges to grab all my groceries,
like a burglar who really has to pee,
I rush to express checkout. 

There she is.

Her register beeps in coupon lady’s rhapsody,
while my register needs a cleanup on Isle 9.

Now it’s my turn.

With girlish inner-screams of boy-band intensity,
I say, “Hi”.

She scans my apples, while I scan her melons.
The melons that the customer ahead of me didn’t want…
…they were on sale.

Go fig.

As if she read my mind,
she asks,
“Are you feeling warm now?”

“All I want is to be the heat in your moment”,
which I almost said.

But, “Now I am”, is uttered.

As she smiled with seductive demure,
she handed me my receipt
with her phone number on back.

As I left the market,
I began to get cold again.

These winds of change
became gusts of numbness.

I locked myself out of my heart.

I turned around to go back inside.

Only to discover, 
she didn’t have the key.

© Drake J. Eszes

Copyright © Drake Eszes

Details | Quatrain | |

Things I Don't Understand

There are things I don't understand
And would really like to know
Such as why they call it rush hour
And you move so freakin' slow

How come you get a learner's permit 
To get a license to drive a car
But they don't give one for a marriage license
Now I think that's going too far

Why do they put deer crossing signs up 
Do you believe there is really any need
In all my years of driving
I've never met a single deer who can read

I was reading a map in the park
And it definitely astonished me so
It had a red X that said you are here
And I was wondering how they know.

Copyright © Vince Suzadail Jr.

Details | Limerick | |

Sweet and Salty -LIBRA TALE


Sweet and Sour hectic sign
Love me, trust me, the stars align
   Balance of truth and dare
   Good and Evil, full of care 
Blind when it comes to blood line

:) PD

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A

Details | Rhyme | |

The Mad Hatters

Madness, the Hatter blinks. 
Madness, Oz's link. 
Repercussions of concussions.
Madness was Portnoy's complaint**, 

Madness must reciprocate!

Hallucinations filter by....
Leary* winks at Dali's eye.
A house lands on Dorothy's thighs...
Chicken Little wanders by.
"Madness," Hitler's honcho’s sneer. 
Madness splices genes with fear. 
"Lobotomize!" becomes the cheer. 
Kellogg’s* enema's find waiting rears.

"Are you the ass? Or is it me? 
Have I ears and a nose? What do you see?"
"Hehawww," said Pinocchio's friends.
"Heeehaw," said Darwin* back again.

Round and round went Steven Hawkings*.
"Madness," said Lenore's raven* squawking.
"Madness," said Einstein* in a blink. 
"Reciprocate!," said the missing link.

Reference Poem Knock Knock by The Archaic Poet - topic madness

* Art by Salvador Dali
* Portnoy's Complaint by Phillip Roth states
   if you know you are crazy than you must be sane.
* Timothy Leary explored LSD and other hallucinogenic drugs.
* Kellog [of cereal fame] proposed enema's as the cure to 
   all health ills, plus loads of sex!
* Darwin proposed man evolved from apes.
* Edgar Allen Poe was mad when he wrote The Raven.
* Einstein had aspergers syndrome a type of 
* Steven Hawkings is a wheelchair bound scientist who autism. 
   extrapolates on the edge of mathematical reality.

Copyright © Debbie Guzzi

Details | Quatrain | |


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

Copyright © Mandy Tams The Golden Girl

Details | Burlesque | |

The Elimination Method

Simple Mathematics, really.
To eliminate one component
To solve a problem quickly.

I’ll form the problem into a manageable state,
By easily eliminating an unwanted variable.
Now, just what variable to eliminate?

First, I will multiply the X by two.
That’s the first step. Done, I feel fine.
I will multiply the Y too.

Now, I add my X plus X.
My Y plus Y.
That was to make sure it checks.

Now here’s the predicament (easy my shoe!)
This is my problem,
And a real head-scratcher too!

The equation adds up nicely
And the X and Y are simplified.
But, how do I eliminate my algebra homework

Copyright © Laura Meese

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

Copyright © Dan Kearley

Details | Rhyme | |

When Sheep Collide

'Tis strange where we should get the notion
That poetry expressed in motion
Should within the human form reside.
When nature gives us many chances
Unpractised and ephemeral dances
Like in a muddy field when sheep collide

Truth is, that nature's not so humble
And doesn't mind the dancer's stumble
There's nothing that it ever seeks to hide
Uncaring it leaves all revealed
And is not shamed if one small field
Has crazy sheep and one long muddy slide

They're mad, they're bad, they're having fun
Those naughty sheep and every one
Is doing what convention has denied
The hillside's muddy, wet and slick
With crazy sheepies sliding quick
Down to the bottom, down where sheep collide.

Many count good nature's fare
The birdsong and the country air
Among the wonders of the countryside
But strange delight can yet be found
In woolly bodies sliding round
A simple muddy field where sheep collide.

While nature guides celestial spheres
In cosmic dances, it appears,
With majesty the earthborn are denied
Down far beneath in mud and grass
A sheep slides on its woolly a***:
A sense of fun, though not a sense of pride.

Copyright © Lee Leon

Details | Rhyme | |

Never Dream Within a Dream

-honestly...I have no clue why...- As I began to rest in my fickle dream Suddenly I was stirred from my sleep I was greeted by many a whisker And petulant snores from my sister The cat mewed ferociously and purred For there on the other side of the window—was a bird! It chirped like a wobbly siren—the ass! And I swear by my bosom it was pecking the glass Suddenly, I sprang up in alarm I swear my bosom was gone! The cat then motioned at the feathered brat For her bright breasts seemed extra fat Of course it wouldn’t have been that But I couldn’t just blame the cat! I opened the window only a crack And asked very kindly, “May I have my breasts back?” Such pride she attained from my bosom Yet why? –how would she use ‘em!? The mockingbird merely turned a goodbye But the stolen twins were too heavy to fly! She plopped to the ground and squawked I would have laughed, but I was shocked! The cat scratched at the window and with her eyes Said, “Prithee, take your breasts—she’s mine!” Before I could think I had fallen to the ground To a booming, most terrible sound! My eyes then opened to a cat on my head As the booming sound continued from my sister’s bed

Copyright © Laura Breidenthal

Details | Rhyme | |


Now here's a contest that seems pointless
But, up to a point, I guess it will do.
The points in my life have sometimes been fruitless,
I just thought I would point that out to you.

Oh, the point of this rhyme
May be pointed one way,
But it is at this point in time
To score points by what I say.

The point that I am making,
Is that there is always some point
That life points in a way forsaking,
Giving your point a grave disjoint.

I have pointed out many times
that points are good and bad.
But the good points I remember better
Rather than the bad points I have had.

You can sometimes see how pointless it is
To try to point these things out.
As for the point I am making,
You get the doubt!

Copyright © Daniel Cwiak

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

Copyright © Katrina Salem

Details | I do not know? | |

Mistaken For A Senior Citizen!

Ok, I normally keep my cool.
I rarely get THAT mad.
I wanted to knock her teeth out! 
Oh yes, it was that bad! 

I was innocently shopping.
Going about my day.
I was finished with the browsing 
so I headed up to pay.

This nasty, mid-aged woman
looked me in the eye
and what she said made my mouth drop
and made me want to cry! 

She asked if I ''get the discount''.
Of course I said ''I don't know, 
how do you get this discount? ''
and then she said...''Oh, no.''

''Forget it, I'm sure you don't.''
I knew what she meant then...
this woman was asking me
if I was a... SENIOR CITIZEN! ! 

It takes alot to get me mad
and I never ever swear
but, let's just say I bit my tongue
as I left that day from there! 

I told her she just ruined
what had been a decent day.
She gave a smirk and brushed me off
with little more to say.

Perhaps I don't look twenty...
this I will admit.
But, she was at least 60 
and looked every day of it.

How rude to ask a woman
when she's only 34
if she's a senior citizen! 
I won't shop there anymore! !

Copyright © Mary Nagy

Details | Rhyme | |

Dr Seuss Paranoia

Did you ever have the feeling there's a man in your can? Or a ball down the hall with an eye to spy? Sometimes I'm sure I have ants on a tour of my house without cure. And sometimes I know there's a pup in my cup, yelling "Hey, what's up!" And that white ram in the door jam well, he's on the lam. That's the kind of paranoia I live with each day. I admit I'm delusional in a big way! Some visitors are quite friendly like the girl with a curl under my bed with Earle. But Bower in the shower, well he sings for hours! And the lady named Sadie why she is quite shady! I like Randy. He always has candy. But the man looking at me in the TV, him I wish I couldn't see. All the brunettes in the cabinets, they love to dance about. But that meanie named Bellini, him I could do without! The cat in my hat I don't like at all. And I get quite nervous when Saul runs down the hall. The bears on the stairs taunt me without a sound. And so do the others who like to hang around. Like Bert, and Mert, and Kurt, and Gert who live inside my shirt. I don't care if you don't believe it, find me my straitjacket. I'll never leave it! *Based on the book, There's a Wocket in My Pocket for Dr. Seuss Theme and Form contest (Joann Grisetti) Seventh Place

Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders

Details | Free verse | |

A Winter Walk

I needed some time, some space to think
And it was either take a walk or drink
And since I knew drinking would solve nothing
I put on my shoes and I started walking

The wind blew the chilly air
Through my unkempt locks of hair,
But I hardly felt the biting cold,
Walking with memories warm in my soul

The street was dark, cold and silent
It was funny the places where my mind went
While I slowly walked across the blacktop road
No destination in mind where I would go

It's funny the things you will remember
I recall a day in mid-December
And how suddenly, nothing seemed the same
After that man at the door called my name

I followed him into a secluded office
Where he would tell me his diagnosis
And suddenly I felt my beating heart
But the rest of the world had just stopped

I felt a hand in mine get tighter
I don't think the room could have been quieter
I shook my head in total disbelief
Too numb to feel anything, even grief

The question asked, "What does this mean?"
But the answer didn't mean anything
My head too fuzzy, my thoughts too jumbled
I turned to my love to speak, but mumbled

I don't remember what else he said
Because of the swirling thoughts in my head
It took three days before I could even think
Which led me to tonight: walk or drink

So I walked and I thought and I truly remembered
Dreams of the past, love treasured forever
Friendship and laughter, sorrow and pain
As though I was reliving my life over again

Little things that I'd sorely taken for granted
Things that didn't happen the way that I planned it
Promises made and ones that were broken
Love that was shared, love still unspoken

The frosty air filled me with a sense of renewal
Inside my soul was fighting a duel
The angel, the devil, both battling demons
Inside of myself I fought to redeem them

I don't know who won the ethereal battle
And I'm not sure right now it even matters
Where once I believed everything for a reason
I'm finding that harder and harder to believe in

Copyright © Michelle Devon

Details | Rhyme | |

Shameful Morning

not sure how she got here 
only know she needs to leave

underneath the stranger 
my arm numb; asleep, 
mouth a desert.
a hundred dead cigarettes dance my tongue dry 

princess of night 
exposed by light. 
get me out of this;
another dreaded morning mess. 

bed broken
along with my will. 
I swore never again; 
the lie is half the thrill.


Copyright © JSLambert Mister ROBOTO

Details | I do not know? | |

Kristin Listen!

Hello my friend,
Hope all is well
This is your bud,
'Ol tom bell
You might wish
To read this poem
"Bad Day at the Eyedoctors"
A true tom tale
And shows what a fool I be
So check it out,
And you'll see!

Copyright © tom bell

Details | Free verse | |

Confusion Reigns

A Joint Poem by Brian Johnston and Abekah Emmanuel

She said: 
Did you really understand what I just said? 

He said: 
If I didn't understand my misunderstanding was so complete that I did not understand that I did not understand! 

She said: 
Amusingly amazing misunderstanding! 

He said: 
So you understand my confusion? I am so glad that someone does! You know dear this could be a poem. It clears up so many things! 

Aside to reader: 
And might even contribute to my getting some... peace that is, a little later on. [Wink, Wink]

Brian Johnston
May 24, 2015

Copyright © Brian Johnston

Details | Free verse | |


Fat egg    you're a mess!
I can't believe the scramble where you fell
There's slime    dirt    and yellow on your shell
Impossible, I must confess

With all the king's horses
           all the king's men
                and the ovaries of a hen
It seems quite ridiculous
      a job so meticulous

Copyright © daver austin

Details | Blank verse | |

Love Song

Here’s what I’m thinking now 
at the end of the world: 

There are no atheists in foxholes— 
no theists in politics. 
If knowledge is power, 
and power corrupts, 
then why did I bother reading you, Cicero? 

Does it matter that I didn't’t love you? 
Would it have mattered if I did? 

There’s a poetry reading tonight 
whence I’I'll chide other poets 
who don’t sit alone. 
I won’t bring up death 
but I might have to breathe, 
even into a mike 
and mouth lines to get a snap or a boo 
maybe even a wince or two. 

Just maybe I’I'll talk about love 
and how following your heart is like following a dog— 
it only leads to vittles and (female dogs). 
But how many times have I used that line 
since the story I wrote about you, 
a witty and sexy and fictional you? 
Most likely I’I'll read something tonight about you. 

I won’t recite it from memory 
because I don’t think about you that much anymore, 
not even when I search for my socks in your drawer 
or when I put on the scratchy sweaters you give me, 
horizontally striped to bring out my eyes? 

I don’t remember your eyes 
except they are blue. 
And I don’t remember you, 
not even when I smell cucumber and apple, 
not even when I sleep on my side of the bed 
or when you walk through the door 
happy to see me; 
even then I don’t remember you. 
Does it matter that I don’t love you? 
Would it have mattered if I did? 

How about a few one-liners 
for the end of days?— 

Depression is self-awareness, 
which you’d know if you were; 
I need Ritalin to listen to you, 
Lithium to hug you, 
Viagra to feel you, 
and Valium to sleep. 

All you need 
is me standing there, waiting at home 
with turns of phrase and word plays 
telling you about why I hate Ayn Rand 
but want to buy as much as I can 
and how I love celebrity gossip 
and detest poetry slams 
and find rhyming trite 
except when I am. 

Hypocrites can still be right, 
which you do understand 
because you nod at my nonsense 
about fighting the man. 

But now, at the end of all things— 
I’m speechless and witless and pointlessly well-read, 
and you’re just sitting there, smiling 
asking me to pass the bread.

Copyright © Nick Hertzog

Details | Rhyme | |


Seeing you all glistening wet
 from your nice, long hot shower, 
Makes things tight in my lower stomach
 and frustrated that you have that power.

One minute, I can be mad.
 The next second see you dripping wet.
You did this on purpose so I'd no longer
 be irritated and to make me forget.

Eye candy is what you are, 
 you know it works every time.
Seeing you all sexy and clean
 and knowing you are mine.

Unfair advantage is what you play.
 But I'm no longer mad at you.
It's the quickest way to calm me down, 
 and it's something you always knew.

Have no fear your time will come, 
 And turnabout is fair play.
I'll save my wrath for you
 and use it another day.

You look too sexy for me 
 to stay mad at you for long.
Lucky for you, a naked, sexy 
 wet man makes me less strong.

Copyright © Aleera Canino

Details | I do not know? | |

No Choice!

I hate it when I'm
       told to do
This damn thing
       or that.

And I hate it
When I don't do it
And am made to
      feel a rat!

So what is it that
      I hate much more
To do or not to do?

The former is within myself
      The latter within me, too!

Copyright © Karam Misra

Details | Rhyme | |

Text and Facebook Speak

I received a joke text yesterday, on to it was attached
L.M.A.O. and my head I sat and scratched
I thought why do you Like My Aunties Osteopath
I was just about to find what would raise my wrath

Then another on said L.O.L I am confused I must confess
I could not understand why you Love Oldies Less
Then Facebook I was browsing and there upon the screen
More letters of obscurity that would make me less serene

The letters T.T.F.N.  my mind began to derail
Why would anyone be interested that you Trapped The Finger Nail
Then I noticed C.B.A. and by it I was floored
Could this be what I’m waiting for a Cadbury Bar Award

So I no understandy text or Facebook speak
So I write the verse in a state of heightened pique
Leave me an old codger a message I can read
Though I think it is beyond you, because it’s done for speed

So now I have a message, for the young who have bought out
This very shortened writing version, that makes me scream and shout
Write It Simply Easy for those of us so old
Remember W.I.S.E. comes with age which soon you will behold

Copyright © Owen Yeates

Details | Bio | |

Big City, Big Shot Fool (Me)

A true story.

Here I was,
23 or 24...
Classed an "Executive"
NYC Dept Store Chain,
"Executive" label meant
I could work overtime
For one half of my normal salary...
But a fool sees stars
Where he should see crime

Promoted "Furniture Buyer"....
Big Ticket spot....
They seemed out to prove
Smart I was not.

Big Furniture Market,
High Point, N.C.,
Invited out to dinner,
By big shot vendor....
Oh...whoop, whoop, yea!

Of course, my stuffy boss
was there,
In the next chair
At this odd restaurant...
"The Factory" it's name,
After that night,
I was never looked at the same....

Big shot, Big City....
Big Fool....
It wasn't pretty....

The menu did start
Entrees priced more
Than my annual salary
And I'm confused
There's a boiler next to me!

So this Big City Buyer,
In his $99.00 suit
Ordered a shrimp cocktail,
Oh, what a hoot!

Lights flashing....
Like Studio 54
I had no idea
What I was in for!

Got my shrimp cocktail,
Oh, I do love my shrimp!
But the lemon wedge,
Was wrapped up
My mind now a' crimp

In this decorative yellow stuff,
All fit with a bow....
How do I open it, I wondered...
I wanted to know...

But I'm a Big Shot NYC Buyer,
Sure, I've seen it all....
How dare these dumb hicks...
Have such a gall!!

I took my fork,
I took my knike....
I started trying to open
This thing like....
It meant my very life!

I was struggling,
And sweating,
And frustrated and mad
Got some of the weirdest looks
I ever have had...

These Carolina Hicks...
Out to make a fool of me...
Slowly I realized
Everyone looking at me...

My boss's eyes swollen
In shame
How dumb his young buyer
Should be in a cornfield
And call himself "Town Crier"

Eventually I learned....
This stuff was called
Ridiculous I thought...
No cheddar or swiss
Like this had I ever bought...

In silence I remained
Through the rest of my meal....
To me the biggest embarrassment
To me the biggest deal....

Big City Hot Shot Buyer...
Dumb as a farm hand.....
Put in a Manhattan restaurant...
Without but a strand....
Of what was, what wasn't
Of how, and of why...
All I wanted to do
Is to crawl under a rock
And die!

(This is true!!!)

Copyright © tom bell

Details | Burlesque | |

Is It Just Me?

I wonder if I'm crazy,
It seems as though I am
I'm puzzled by so many things
Like what makes grape jelly
different from grape jam?

Or how anyone could have such low self-esteem,
To let their dumb commercials run
Are we to follow the dinosaurs?
And disappear beneath the sun?

Or how I could be so brain-dead
To find in my refrig,
Some food from the time
of the reign of Ramses,
How could I be so dumb?
The very thought, it scares me,
Makes my mind go numb.

Everything I buy or own,
I seem to lose real quick,
Is there a brain tumor inside me?
Or am I just mentally sick?
Too caught up in great thoughts?
Or just too gosh darn thick?

Sometimes I I find I wander
Into a room, and can't remember why
Is this for people normal?
Or did my brain just fry?

I guess there's no good reason,
To worry about things like this,
Sometimes your brain's on target
Sometimes it just can't help but miss.

Copyright © tom bell

Details | Rhyme | |

Do I or Don't I

Give me something smart to say
Or maybe something dumb
What should I do, Should I stay?
Or should I go, ho hum?

Nothing seems to come together
Nothing seems to flow
Should I brush my teeth right now?
Or watch the Oprah show?

Why are some days really nutty
And others just plain boring
Today I'm going to flip a coin
If it's tail, I'm going bowling.

Copyright © Marycile Beer

Details | I do not know? | |


I sometimes sit and ponder,
What is over yonder.
When I get to yonder,
I sometimes sit and ponder,
As to what is over yonder.
When I get to yonder,
I sometimes sit and ponder
As to what is over yonder___

Copyright © Marycile Beer

Details | Burlesque | |

Sleep Remedy

I've told you how desperate
I am for sleep,
And I got a suggestion
It made me leap
Simplicity itself ; earslugs!

So I went out on a slug hunt,
Without realizing what a stunt,
It takes to be a successful slug-hunter
I found one at last,
Picked it up and so fast,
It oozed through my yucky fingers

More prepared the next chance,
I scooped it up on paper
And watched it's giggly dance,
Dumped it in a glass jar,
And didn't have to go far.
To find my next ear-slug...

Dumped it in as well,
But now I couldn't tell,
What seperated one from the other...
Oh, darn, who cares,
I'll cut this big mess into pairs,
Of suitably sized ear slugs

Home at last,
Poured them out of the glass,
And promptly cut them in 2,
Inserted one in each ear,
I could no longer hear,

But somehow lost my sense of balance,
Crawled to my bed, oh sure,
But I could not long endure
This swishing sound in my ears,
And jelly-like stinking mess
That oozed onto my chest,
And stained my sheets something fearful...

My ears oozed slime for 6 weeks,
And that forbade sleep one seeks,
And the stench of rotting slugs was horrific,
So next time someone suggests ear slugs,
Tell them no thank you please,
Cause I've heard the story of Tom Terrific.

Copyright © tom bell

Details | Free verse | |

Bladder Problems in Class

Numbers on 
White board…names written hori-

Students ask
To go pee…right when class starts – 
THAT’S just wrong…

Bathroom line
Of students who have bladder
Problems – WOW!

People are
Not using lunchtime to do 
Their business 

No one knows
When to do their duties – SER-

Copyright © J. W. Earnings

Details | ABC | |

Errata Poem

"A person's tongue is a twisty thing, 
     there are plenty of words there of every kind, 
         and the range of words is wide, and their variation." 
               -- HOMER, The Iliad

When I say ice cream read I scream
When I say phonology read phone allergy
When I say insinuate read in sin you ate
When I say four candles read fork handles

When I say mint spy read mince pie
When I say greénhouse read green hoúse
When I say bláckboard read black boárd
When I say mesher read measure

When I say Alpine read alpine
When I say vowels read dishtowels
When I say Homophone read home on phone
When I say Polish read polish

When I say sonorant son of ant
When I say i.c.u. read I see you
When I say Lent read lent
When I say Turkey read turkey

When I say euthanasia read youth in Asia
When I say depreciate read deprecate
When I say farther read further
When I say collision read collusion

When I say endocentric read exocentric
When I say pharynx read larynx
When I say thought read though
When I say phonemic read phonetic

When I say weather read whether
When I say China read china
When I say call on phones read allophones
When I say stuffy nose read stuff he knows

© Joseph, 10/4/08
© All Rights Reserved

Comments:  The Errata poem is based on mistake in speech or speaking, a Freudian slip,
mispronounced words, homophonic pronunciation, etc. Paul Muldoon from Ireland, and 
Charles Simic from Yugoslavia wrote Errata poems based on this definition.  The Errata poem 
is a Linguists paradise.


Joseph S. Spence, Sr., is the author of "The Awakened One Poetics" (2009), which is 
published in seven different languages. He invented the Epulaeryu poetry form, which 
focuses on succulent cuisines and drinks. He is published in various forums, including the 
World Haiku Association; Poetinis Druskininku, Milwaukee Area College, Phoenix Magazine; 
Möbius Poetry, and Taj Mahal Review to name a few. Joseph is a Goodwill Ambassador for 
the state of Arkansas, USA, a college faculty, and a military veteran.


Copyright © Joseph Spence Sr

Details | Rhyme | |

Four frogs on a log

Four Frogs On A Log.

Four frogs were lazing in the sun
When a log came floating by.
So the frogs all scrambled on to it
With happy little cries.
Not one of them had sailed before
And it was so much fun
But then it was, the big debate begun.

One frog said "Ain't that something
This log is so alive.
It moves along so easily
Now don't you think, you guys?".
"It's not the log that moves you twerp!!"
Said another thinking frog.
It be the river moving, not the log!!

"Oh no, no ,no" a third frog said
The both of you be wrong
It's not the log, the river neither 
It's your mind that moves along.
The moving be your thinking
Without it nothing be.
And those three did get to arguing
And never did agree.

The fourth frog said "you all be right
Not one of you be wrong.
The log it moves, the river moves
And the mind moves it along".
At that the other three got mad
For each did yearn to win.
So they grabbed that wise old frog and threw him in.

Socrares Feb 16 2004

Copyright © Peter Duggan