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Funny Dark Poems | Funny Poems About Dark

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

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Details | Rhyme | |

Count Dracula


It was a time ov thirst, crepuscle zearchin, 
the Count in dark, becharmed her every secret zeal; 
vatever aappened to his favoroured virzzin? 
Vatever aappened to his crimson meal? 
..............

My bite I'll hold to thine exquisite neck, 
(In Transylvania I'm vaiting, auspicious maid) , 
vas told that virzzins vaporized from earth, 
and so evil vampires will stay thirsty, I'm afraid.

My Castle, I assert, vill vait for thee, 
It is embarrassing for Counts to dine on food, 
meanvile red should be drunk like rare chablis, 
vilt thou, fair maid, succumb to my persisting mood? 

Hast thou ever heard of my night delights? 
Thou vilt dine on rare meat vile listening to tunes from the abyss, 
I'll beguile your thoughts under candle lights, 
and then (enraptured nymph), thou shalt receive my kiss.

Thou shalt be my companion to dark doom, 
Teetotal I became due to the lack of virzzins, 
it is more evident ven your perfume, 
enthralls my Dracula stimulated senses.

I'll bend on your rest, vile you'll be asleep, 
vere bats from caves have fled around the room before, 
like from a fresh rose your red I shall reap, 
and in crepuscular twilight ve, shall soar.

© 01-26-2013, G. V., All Rights Reserved


Details | Rhyme | |

Ahoy There - Out Of My Way

'Twas a dark and stormy night on that dark and stormy night!
HMS Blunderbuss plied the billowing seas just off the Isle of Wight!
Able Seaman Steer manned the helm when dead ahead he saw the light!
He woke the snoozing Officer of the Deck to apprise him of their plight!

Captain Ironbottom (who happened to be in the 'head') was duly alerted!
He dashed to the bridge in his drawers to ensure that disaster was averted!
"By jove!" he cried, "Her Majesty's ships turn aside for no one, I say!"
He grabbed the radio, "Ahoy there! Turn east 15 degrees! Out of my way!"

From out of the ozone a voice retorted, "Suggest you turn west 15 degrees!
I'll not change course for anyone, so heed my warning if you please!"
"This is Captain Ironbottom of the HMS Blunderbuss!" he thundered back!
"I know the rules of the road! Turn now or I'll see you hung from the rack!"

Able Seaman Steers' eyes grew as large as saucers knowing not what to do!
Communication between the captain and the mysterious light was turning blue!
As the distance narrowed between them, neither would give a nautical mile!
The white-knuckled Officer of the Deck was turning pale with a sickly smile!

"This is Captain Ironbottom again!  Are you challenging Her Majesty's might?"
"Yes sir" was the reply, "You see, this is the light house on the Isle of Wight!"
Today the mighty HMS Blunderbuss rusts upon the Isle of Wight's rocky shoal.
Captain Ironbottom faded into oblivion due to the folly of his last patrol!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved

Placed No. 3 in Poet Destroyer's "My Funniest Poem On The Soup" Contest
June 2011


Details | Rhyme | |

His Nose

The nose he wears sits on his head
It's big and round and very red;
And in the dark it always glows
It must be awful to own that nose.
There's two dark holes filled with hair
With whatever else that's hidden there;
Each time I see with great surprise
That glow that sits between his eyes.
It shines as though when night meets day
There never could be another way;
I wonder too if he can tell
If red affects his sense of smell. 
Perhaps the problem is I think
He's had in time too much to drink;
I suggested then to paint it white
And he seemed to think this was alright.

For Frank Herrera's Zaniest Poetry Contest
Elizabeth Wesley


Details | Rhyme | |

Oggwool Fleece

In England’s pleasant pastures amid the free wild flowers
Lie pagan ways the wise ones do not mock
And one adept at harnessing these ancient rural powers
Was Oggwool Fleece, the black sheep of the flock

Oggwool was old, much older than the old oak it was said
Beneath whose boughs the dark sheep’s plans are sealed
‘Twas said the sheep had come back from the other side of dead
With the darkness in that corner of the field.

The farm hands better knew to venture in the oak’s strange shade
Or to the long grass that the darkness gripped
Where Oggwool lurked amid the spells and potions he had made
A sheep unshorn and magically undipped.

Not limited by four hooves in working his deft skill
Unhindered in ambitious sheepish plans
Harnessing the dark elves to do his dark sheep will 
Dexterously with little dark elf hands.

From that darkened corner of that English country field
His influence extends itself outside
His arcane woolly web through which his mystic powers wield
Reaching parts and persons spread worldwide

He has extensive vineyards in Italy and Spain,
He has mining operations in Peru
He owns a flock of ostriches down in the Ukraine
(Although he never quite intended to)

He’s engineering world events on scales beyond the ken
He has his hooves in business of all kinds
He interferes remorselessly in world affairs of men
With night-time thoughts drip-fed to human minds

Little green men fly through space in saucers flat and round
On interstellar missions without cease
But on their furthest journey yet, their enterprise is bound
To the ever growing plans of Oggwool Fleece

The politicians spin their words and armies shoulder arms
And yet do not beyond their small acts see
But Oggwool Fleece with thistle skills and other sheepwise charms
Is planning how to rule a galaxy!


Details | I do not know? | |

GRIN AND CURE IT

Feeling sad?  
Well that's too bad,
But why mope around in a dark blue funk?  
Don’t let life’s trouble 
Burst your bubble.  
Why waste your time on all that junk? 
                                        
Now, life might have you in the pits, 
But it's not time to call it quits. 
Don't let those dark thoughts clutter up your mind.  
Come on now, let's meditate 
On things that cheer and elevate, 
And leave the morose, gloomy things behind. 
                                                                  
A great big laugh 
On your behalf
Might drive the gloomy mist away.
And a toothy grin 
Above your chin
Could brighten someone else’s day.                               
                                                                
A chuckle might forestall
The family doctor’s call, 
And, maybe, even shoo away the nurse.
Some stuff and nonsense matter 
Could make the day go better,
And, I guarantee, it will not make it worse.   


Details | Rhyme | |

Happy Question

Today I am going to hop my way to my brother.
To tell him how I feel about not being together.
I thought I could be so kind.
I saw him by the road side and I was blind.
I could just end it all by now.
Today I tried a cow.
It really was hard to do.
Then I hired a semi crew.
I watched carefully, darn he is fast!
My name is Happy ?, I'm Easter's brother who is sad.
He painted eggs that made me jealous and bad.
I hopped one day and he threw an egg at me.
My heart became really cold that memory was key.
I finally thought of it an accident really is going to happen.
Happy Easter is going to be laugh-en.
Good to see you, I said to a mystery man.
I was told not to associate with any human.
It was my last resort.
The man had a sports car a beautiful sort.
I was desperate, now, I'm in a bunny court.


Details | Bio | |

Solitude: To Yoda, An Ode

Green bark a prism creates,
Feel the pull of earth, you must.

Rotates, a slime of endless hates,
Can hold me not, this world’s crust.

Friendship’s ties, isolation Deflates,
Succumbs, my spaceship, to bitter rust.

Mist, my soul forever permeates,
Lift-off, booms the rocket’s thrust.

My spirit when light returns, elates,
Swamps swell, swallowed hope’s swirling dust.

Trapped, I am, until student from fate
Arrives to learn; Cloud City or bust.


Details | Quatrain | |

A Flame Once Burned

                              The Flame Burnt Hot.
The air was thin, standing looking out of the small window
Flying to Tunisia through a cloud level that was low
Stretching my legs and peering down the fuselage 
From the flight deck, appeared the man who was definitely in charge.

His dark good looks struck me, they hit me like a blow
He came and stood in front of me and then he said “Hello.”
Dark limpid brown eyes, dressed in a uniform so smart
If we had been there longer, he may have stolen my beating heart.

Holding in his hand, a bar of dark chocolate
Broke a piece off it, and asked me if I’d like to partake.
Not being a fan of chocolate, but I am a fan of a uniform so grand
I let him feed it to me out of his large, strong, tanned hand.

The flame was burning bright as we looked deep into each others eyes
When my husband tapped him on the shoulder much to our surprise
The pilot turned and offered him a piece of chocolate too
I think you may guess the answer, and what he told him then to do.

The flame that burned oh so hot, was snuffed in just a second
A warning to all those girls, for whom a uniform may beckon
When a tall dark pilot offers to feed you from his hand
Make sure there’s no one around round so that flame can then be fanned…

© 27/11/2012~GG~


Based very loosely on a true story lol 


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 | Light Poetry | |

Yayyyyyyy a Contest

The Contest for my Heart 


Ah yes, a one time event
Black widows, black roses, red blood flows
Capture my heart
With your affections or the carving knife
Cut and bleed me as you wish
Shower me with your passions
I shall drink to the butchers dream
Of dinner severed for two
Or me served on a plate to you
The table clothe is romantically red
Our love affair left me ending up dead
On my tomb the flowers bloom
The epitaph cryptic under the moon
Here lies a man without a heart
I had the candle
I had the wine
She had the bitchers knife
She committed the crime
I may be buried in the cemetery of the forgotten
However my heart remains ice cold
After all
It’s still in her fridge


Details | Free verse | |

Conspiracy: Who Killed The Easter Bunny

A crowded table, all suspended in shock 
The sound of the shot dimming to a ‘knock’
Only silence, except for the marching clock
The weapon still smoking; an anonymous glock
WHO KILLED THE EASTER BUNNY?

Loud cries arise from the elongated table,
Jack Frost is shocked, the Tooth Fairy unable
To speak whilst Santa is checking the stable
For clues on the erstwhile maidservant Mable
WHO KILLED THE EASTER BUNNY?

They searched for hours, called in C.S.I,
Panic set in, would the children all cry?
Sandman confirmed the bunny had died
Batman suspected somebody had lied
WHO KILLED THE EASTER BUNNY?

Guests were quizzed, interrogations began
The mystery unfolded when Santa Claus ran,
Grabbing the pies, he tried escaping in a van
But was stopped in his tracks by superman
SANTA KILLED THE EASTER BUNNY!


Details | Pantoum | |

FORTY RUSTY PENNIES

I found forty rusty pennies in a black leather slipper
while my itchy nose sneezed more than three times;
why were they hidden from thrifty mother?
Weren't they less valued than silver dimes?


While my itchy nose sneezed more than three times,
mom woke up to scold me for my loud laughter;
she was mad and wanted to hear anything but lies
and frantically screaming, she pulled my curly hair. 


Mom woke to scold me for my loud laughter,
I tripped on the slipper, falling flat as a bear, 
and frantically screaming, she pulled my curly hair;
with an angered face, I retrieved to my dark lair.


She was mad and wanted to hear anything but lies,
mom woke up to scold me for my loud laughter;
with an angered face, I retrieved to my dark lair...
I found forty rusty pennies in a black leather slipper.


Details | Light Poetry | |

One Night in Stroud

I stumbled drunkenly through Stroud
Passed the kebab van on the hill,
When all at once I saw a crowd
Of ladettes – taunting the old bill;
Just for a lark, just for a wheeze,
Flirting and dancing, dressed to tease.

Bedecked with bling, drinking cheap wine,
A clowder of cats out to play,
Perfume and bags by Calvin Klein
All you can eat slapper buffet.
Looking for violence not romance,
Tossing the V’s in fighting stance.

The plods approached askance, as they
Ignored them and crouched down to pee;
The deluge nearly washed away,
The council’s prized floral display! 
I gazed – amazed - at just how short;
Their skirts were and indeed how taut.

Often now – I sit down and cry
(Sometimes it puts me off my food) 
When I recall what I did spy
The female form so crass and rude;
Those harpies in search of cheap thrills,
Stooped - pissing on the daffodils.



(apologies to Mr Wordsworth)


Details | Narrative | |

The Midnight Madame

Honey Glaze Bun
A herd of hoof ran across her back
 Her mind drifting into slumber
Her midnights rendezvous became dangerous acts 
while the itinerant
Slept in every alley on Delaney Street

An exhausted prosecutor 
Release her back to the cruelty of the dark street
Where broken lamps on 
The Great White Way generates
Little or no heat
And the deafening sound of the siren
Kept her awake
.
Until the blonde blue eye stranger pulled up
In a dark limousine rolled down the window
 And whispered
“Hello honey bun
Come on in 
Your place or mine
Let’s be discreet.

Half a mile down the dark road
The hooded stranger
Poetry became a reality
An old Shakespearean
Surface

Let not my love be called idolatry,

………………………………………………………………………………………………………..



Details | Carpe Diem | |

Pricked

Your  love pricks me like a rose each thorn grows but no one knows Your so full of 
it as it shows so carry on now go on, go. I'm fed up with the phony and  i'm 
through with the tears, you couldn't pay me all your money to make up for those 
years. Someone help me I feel faint how could I think he was such a saint and 
worst of all I let me fall into a spiral down below. A magic called love carried 
by the dove of someone I use to know.


Details | Rhyme | |

The Tasmanian devil

The New Ocean House, back in sixty-eight,
Worked as a busboy, left that night late.
A very dark night, dark of the moon.
Might have been May, may have been June.

I climbed on my bike, started its thunder.
Sped off wildly, like I was boy wonder.
I flew through the streets, heading to Lynn.
Nice that night, nice night for a spin.

Spun down the streets like the Tasmanian devil.
Not much of an IQ or intelligence level.
I stopped to talk with my frazzled friends.
Said I'd be back before the night ends.

Tore down my street in a roaring rally.
Killed the engine to coast through the alley,
Respect for the neighbors, their peace and quiet.
What happens next is kind of a riot.

Locked up my bike, locked up the door.
Left my white jacket on the tar floor.
I turned to see the blue lights flashing.
Did not think twice, just found myself dashing.

Jumped a fence and ran down the street.
I heard the sounds of their running feet.
They couldn't see the three barrels of trash,
Ran into them with a funny loud crash.

Got to the corner, my friends still there,
Listening to their laughter filling the night air.
The cops pulled up and asked us who.
We told them it wasn't someone we knew.

They left.


Details | Terzanelle | |

The Phantom of Delusion

I am the floating pieces within the black hole of the verses
The dark phantom take a side emitted in remaining shadow
Who could stop me from my battle towards to the numbness?

One night the moon hid itself into an echo 
Those, the conceited tribal of the mystic valley compete me in a crime 
The dark phantom take a side emitted in remaining shadow

They hinted a race to steal the pendulum ore of a time
Missing clue about who the hell they were facing
Those, the conceited tribal of the mystic valley compete me in a crime 

I summoned my mainstay tools called the time machine
In all of the sublimity of my narcissism, I flew
Missing clue about who the hell they were facing

Pursuit the tail which left me to the situation which I knew
Sneaking through the darkness, I sprint to the vessel of a good shot
In all of the sublimity of my narcissism, I flew

In every ease of victory named as the beauty of the black spot
Sneaking through the darkness, I sprint to the vessel of a good shot
I am the floating pieces within the black hole of the verses
Who could stop me from my battle towards to the numbness?

Awake on gasp
Drool mapped on pillow
Did my husband aware?

(*scratching head with confusion) 

2nd place
Contest Terzanelle Fantasy with a Questionku Chaser 	
Sponsored by: Richard Lamoureux


Details | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) | |

A Letter To My First Crush

A LETTER TO MY FIRST CRUSH My Dearest Kevin My hands shake nervously as I write this letter The fountain pen drips the ink in heart-shapes Pieces of my heart as it reach out to you I just want you to know that loving you isn’t easy My dozen of Harlequins and my entire Mill @ Boon collection Have'nt prepared me To deal with a player like you I heard it through the grapevine, That you are heartbreaker and womanizer With only one thing on your adolescence mind My grandmother always told me, that Why buy the cow, when you can get the milk for free My grandma is a wise woman More like a heroine in my eyes I am the heroine of my life More like a Nancy Drew without a clue on how to love you I am never satisfy, I am curious And mysterious However I am very chary Kind of gal ^ I do believe that I am in love with you today However, I might hate you tomorrow Because you never know with a secret admirer To the man I love today They are nothing more than I can say. I will wait for your reply my love


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Thoughts from the Mind of a Blogger


It was a chilly morning in paradise...

Autumn was already here...

A time for strange things to happen, as it is that time of year...

She was up most of the night, doing a write....

Regarding some hubs and her series titled "Legend of Fred "

Ahh the questions she had... rolling around in her head..

Were “where were her readers, her followers “ her Hubbers...?

They had all seemed to like what she wrote in the past..

But lately her hubs were falling so fast....

She had written articles on health and life..

perhaps she had targeted too much strife...

Maybe they wanted to read about food..

But when you're not a cook, that would be kinda rude..

Oh, will wonders never cease ?

So she decided she'd get some zzzzz's

She lay in her bed, not moving at all...

but breathing quite deeply, as I saw the covers fall...

So I stretched my muscles and walked ever so slow..

So as not to wake her , then I spied her big toe..

Sticking out from the blanket..it was such a temptation..

And with me having such a" foot fixation".. however...

She needed the rest , so she can finish her quest..

I have some thoughts of my own...

that I would like to share in a poem..

And I would be happy to help her.. but..

I don’t think the world is ready for me...

as I am a BLOGGING CAT.. you see

So I will close for now...everyone have a great week...as

I'm off to seek something that has a tweak and a squeak..


Details | Sonnet | |

The Broken Girl-not me

Is my life not tortured enough for you to see? 
I am broken as can be. 
My heart is torn. 
My tears stain these perfect floors.  
Why are singing with glee? 
Why do you not care about my every plea? 
I am trapped in your arms. 
I am the hopeless moth. 
How did you pick me? 
What is it that you see? 
A girl untouched by life? 
A flower blooming in the desert? 
I have said goodbye to my loving integrity.  
You took that from me through R-A-P-E.


Details | Couplet | |

My Dark Secret

My dark Secret
It’s dark and firm
I want it to be inside me.

It’s smooth and delicious
I can hardly wait to see.

My love of it grows; I want it I don’t care how
Not later I’m ready, I’m ready for it now.

I can’t wait for my tongue to feel the full length
Of this dark delight that plays with my sense.

Don’t make me beg, but I will if I must
Just give it me please or I will bust.

I undo it slowly I don’t want it to fight
My lips are moist just waiting to bite.

It’s there its naked right before my eyes
My tongue explores slowly up and down its sides

I bet you all would really like some
But you can’t, this is my dark chocolate magnum.


Details | ABC | |

A Glurmy Gleepcious Glorp

I plurm and glorp with every breath
My existence defies and deifies death

I splurp and glomph amongst your days
Indistinguishable from mud and haze
I slig and slorg, a dark breamy blaze
with unctuous vim I sleam through your days
and go about my large gorptious ways

Slimy, I slawl in shades of grey
leaving glossful drippings to mark my way
and make your life gang aft agley
as I spream and slorl in spurious ways
and glurm and gleep with hideous gaze
I sleam and glort in vorptious dark ways

‘Til you come undone
And my sporphing’s won!

My job’s complete – I’ve sprunked your flaze
My job is done, I’ve gronked your days!


Details | Rhyme | |

If I Were a Plastic Bag-

If I Were a Plastic Bag…

I would help shoppers carry their stuff.
Anything: groceries, toys or powder puffs.
I could help thrice, because I am tough.
I like to; it is fun to see their stuff!

Sometimes I wait for weeks in the dark, scrunched.
Kept there unused for months crowded and hunched… 
I am not alone; we plastic bags are bunched.
Waiting in the dark while the humans munch.

I dream that one-day, soon I will fly up high.
I will escape on the day that the wind blows by.
A breath of fresh air will lift me into the sky.
I will see the city's grandeur; then, I shall sigh.

It seems like forever the days go slow.
Up in a treetop it would not be so.
I could just hang around beneath sun's glow.
Watching travelers drive about on streets below.

Freedom's dream, flying high, has not come to fruition.
The life I lead in cabinets has become a mission.
Somehow, now, based upon the economic condition.
I just lay back in the dark and wait in submission.

© Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
     December 18, 2009


Details | Free verse | |

Ball of Fire

Today is Doomsday.

Some believe today is Doomsday
Some say maybe the end of the year
However, do we really care?
How would the earth end?
In a ball of fire or 
would it swallow us up into puff of dust
in a matter of an hour..

I rather am buried under pile of snow.
Eternal Preservation "what a nice way to go

However do we have option in a world?
Where lunatics have taken over asylums
where deranged souls spreading like a social cancer 
Is doomsday  the answer..?


Details | Rhyme | |

Mystery Buff

'Twas a dark and stormy night", the whodunit book began!
I reckon that is music to the ears of an avid mystery fan.
To curl up with a book by the fire on a dark and stormy night,
With the lights dimmed low, it sets the mood perfectly right!

The corpus was found by the maid sprawled upon the floor,
And nigh him lay an elephant gun with a fifty caliber bore!
It appeared fairly obvious as to how the feller met his doom.
However,  in such criminal cases, 'tis best not to presume!

Enter now the debonair detective, a pipe-smoking chap,
Wearing a suit of tweed, sporting a deer stalkers cap.
In a practiced pose he mused with his chin in his hand,
Pondering what miscreant brought this feller to his end!

Could it have been the butler who did the dastardly deed,
Or the ne'er-do-well brother-in-law in a pique of greed?
Perhaps it was the work of a jealous, jilted lover.
He searched for every clue as over the body he did hover.

Aha! The astute constable noted there was no bullet hole or gore,
But nearby lay an empty bottle shattered about the floor!
Alas, dear reader, what did him in was no foe or friend.
'Twas that deadly, demon rum that brought him to "THE END!"

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved


Details | Light Poetry | |

IN THE DARK

 
(Free style) Tonight is not my night I don't know what to do And all it is dark And that's true. I can barely see my watch I wish time I could stop it But of course I can't Not even for a bit. I can't watch my T.V. Tonight nothing is good I could turn it on anyway If only I could. I wish I could Scare my sister tonight This is the best time But she's out of sight. I open my freezer But can't use the food Because I can't cook And that kills my mood. I am getting so bored I want to play a game Or just watch a movie but I Can't and that's a shame! What am I now to do? I Wish I could write A short e-mail to all of my friends But I don't have electricity tonight! Dorian Petersen Potter aka ladydp2000 aka ladylove copyright@2014 December,04,2014


Details | Light Poetry | |

A Haunted Poem

Snakes slither in my veins in lieu of blood.
There is a demon in my eye.
My stomach’s full of stinking mud.
A troll grins gleefully between my thighs.
My fingers form black widow’s legs.
My knees are sculpted from dead men’s skulls.
My toes are those of crows who’ve laid their eggs
Within the cracks of my withered soles.
Upon my shoulders rest two vultures’ nests
Like shambolic, messed epaulets.
A massive ogre sits upon my chest.
He adorns me like a medal on a general’s breast.
I am a tenement
For all the creepy-crawlies 
Beneath the firmament 
And it drive me up the wallies
That none of them pay rent. 


Details | Free verse | |

The Olde Shoppe Bell

I hear the bell like ex-wives voices nagging
Hanging,beneath the olde shoppe door ringing
When someone enters through
They have and I do 
A swift little dance and a more ridiculous jig
To that stupid and silly sounding thing

Every time I hear it, it echoes in my head 
As if far fetched fantasies 
An ominous figure the tiny brass is introducing
In the black trench coat to appear instead
Along with hat that eclipses his face
There he'll be, standing 
Eyeing all from beyond his place

Patrons inside slow turn in sync trembling in fear
As if death were choosing its next victim "right here"
It wouldn't be long before I could no longer hold on
From hysterics and laughter outward and in directions forthwith 

Toward the harbinger announcments of cruel intentions 
As the next candidate bound on hell train's transportion
And beneath the door prodding sounds once more
That stupid bell again starts ringing
And I'd think to myself " surely no angel has gotten their wings"
So under my breath laughing, then jump heel clicking, dancing a more ridiculous jig


Details | Light Poetry | |

The Gigolo

Rugged and handsome with perennial tan
Distinctive and stylish, a real ladies man
Wining and dining all goes on the tab
Along with “entertainment” in the back of a cab
 
An invite for coffee at his hotel
This Romeo won’t kiss and tell
An exquisite encounter, but where will it end
That all depends on how much you spend
 
Contract sealed and ready for action
Destination set for satisfaction
Even though he may be fit to burst
He makes sure his customers always…
…come first


Details | Limerick | |

WISHES DO COME TRUE

She tossed her coin into wishing well
For all to see and for all to tell,
She wished for a husband
One tall dark and handsome,
Hoping the well would break her dry spell.


Well her suitors came from all around
Some gross, some queer, no handsome found,
She looked for a keeper
And not just a looser,
Then she met one financially sound.


Tall dark and handsome, was just a joke
She'd settle for one who wasn't broke,
She got an old fella
He's thirty years older,
And just recovering from a stroke.


Her wish at the well partly came true
When she and her old man said "I do,"
Since she was no beauty
He fulfilled his duty,
It was her Daddy who paid him too!


Details | Couplet | |

Now I Bawl

:<> :-x  by d8:) the one on M&M commerical
ITD :-* now not I-O I know this will be controverial

Now o-+-> but :-D still :-I by :-*
That M&M d8:) my + left me in bliss

ITD :-| d8:) hasn't called
SITD  :e  %-)  now I bawl

Amazed big kiss by cool guy the one on M&M commerical
In the dark kiss, now not bored I know this will be controverial

Now doing nothing but happy still hynotized by kiss
That M&M guy my knight left me in bliss

In the dark disgusted cool guy hasn't called
Still in the dark disappointed confused now I bawl

Sponsor: David Williams
Contest: Text Talk
Written:Septmeber 2, 2012


Details | Blank verse | |

Root

A long time ago, in the dark lands of the gentile pagans
The people where like giants and our twelve spies; ants!
The spies’ mission went sour and they were almost captured.
Ten managed to escape to our lovely desert camps; enraptured!
The other two made themselves scarce, to the inconvenience of a woman
 Who hid them in the roof of her house and lied to save their hides.   
By and by, our brave woman married one spy and another gentile woman
Married the other spy…oh the dreadful tides!!!
It so happened that our promiscuous spies both died, and at the same time too.
Their distraught mother (for they were brethren) decided to return home.
But the woman who had first hid them made bid to return with her
But Old Childless Mother said “turn away my daughters for thou hast seen I have 
No sons and am too old and ugly to attract a man, for surely any man attracted to
Me in this state must darn well be impotent or desperate!”
The second saw reason and turned back home to her shows for her name was Orpah Winfey.
The one who had first hid the spies refused and said (with courageous theme playing in 
The background) “intreat me not to turn aside, for wither thou goest, I will go and wither 
Thou lodgest I shall be thine squatter and where thou diest I shall be present for the wake keep!”
When she saw that her determination was deeply ruthed, Old Childless Widow sayest unto her;
“Damn, why the hell not!”
So it came to pass that Ruth came to dwell with us, the chosen people.
But she was an outright lazy pile of bones, what with all the sitting all day under palm trees
And gisting and gossiping with passersby.  Well some folk thought she was a prophet
His name was Barak Oboma, he was dark and handsome and he was our leader.
She made him start a war with the people in the East whose military was whispered 
In dark places to be to be “The Talibansers” but that is a tale for another day.
Here ends the unnecessarily protracted and adjusted story of Root: the harlot turn
 Wife turn widow turn immigrant turned prophet.


Details | I do not know? | |

A Fool In Love

As love hath come to smite the fool within So has hate to kill the wise heart with sin Thou pit'ist the fool that partakes in love And that of wise men's hearts now dead dark dove But praise henceforth the wise whom fell in love Acknowledging the fool in sin thereof Death smite thee thou becketing demon whole Dark child, dark face, dark heart, dark soul. . .Dead Dove


Details | Verse | |

Maybe This House Is Haunted

I’m not the superstitious type, 
Let’s say I’m an agnostic. 
Last night, laying in bed, she told me 
she heard a strange noise in the house,
to which I said, maybe the house is haunted,
to which she said, well if it is, I’m out of here.

That got me thinking.  What if it is haunted?
After all it is an old house, slightly sad 
and isolated.  Until she came, we were 
two outcasts, the dog and I, united
in our filth and bad habits.  Until she came
in a hygienic wave of regime change.

Now that I’m clean, and the dog is 
Soon to be dog gone, I have started 
to listen and feel.  So many details,
unexplained, incomplete, especially
late at night when we can’t sleep.  
These things that just get in between.

It takes two, to conjure up the dead,
One to invoke, and one to believe
Without a witness, there is no fear.
Did you hear that, there it is again
to which I said, maybe the house is haunted,
to which she said, well if it is, I’m out of here.


Details | Light Poetry | |

The Right Guy

Life can be full of happiness
With unconditional love and emotion
But let’s get real that’s not what life is
Life throws us on a rugged path at times 
One of the rugged paths is finding that right mate
And we all can find in one way or another be able to relate

Most of you girls want something like this:
A guy who is cute, funny, outgoing, motivated, caring, unselfish, faithful, and understanding
The one who calls you at night so you’re the last one he talks to
The one who says good morning so he can be your first smile
One who calls you beautiful in your darkest hour
Damn do you girls not see the clock has been striking twelve

Girls you always talking about I want that right guy
But more than half the time you’re letting him pass you right by
And next thing you know you’re with someone who makes you cry
A guy who stripped you of your wings in which you can’t fly
And no longer able to touch the clouds in the sky
Then you hate your relationship because all he is known for is to cheat and lie
And you lie on your bed at night and ask why?
And sooner rather than later you end up saying goodbye

Tears falling down your face
As you try to erase
Erase all the memories you had of him
Erase the fact he did you wrong
And then the right guy whom you let pass you by
Sits right next to you gives you a hug and says “be strong”
That’s all he says and gets up and walks away
And the funny thing is you still don’t tell him to stay

Little do you know that guy is on his knees every night and begins to pray
That you will be able to open your eyes and see the light and stop pushing him away
He knows who he is but when you look at him you think he is the same way
It’s funny because girls always say then prove it and stop saying it
He then says I have been, “haven’t you seen I haven’t quit”
I’m just waiting for you to realize that and commit

But like they say nice guys always finish last
And you wonder why you don’t like your past
A nice guy is a cover up phrase in which the world given us
But our real title is the right guy in which I had to confess
We are around every dark corner watching your mistakes
But at the end of the day no matter who you’re with we comfort you and take away your 
cold shakes
Maybe its time to open that message that you pushed in the cold dark corner and reply
Because inside God has BEEN sent you the right guy 

© Jeremy Fennell


Details | Verse | |

Unicorn tapestry gilded cherubs

A thousand candles around a tranquil green lake
Raindrops began splashing circles into the water
White lead face paint red cinnabar  alibaster skin
Sleek and smooth prominent jaw  amiable smile
Strong Italian accent suits of  silver  Fiddler plays
Unicorn swung its horn fought  the ropes  puffing
Silver hooves crushing the rushes Nostrils flared
Frozen tears around her neck , thick and dark red
A shriek in the courtyard Just a nightmare  Sat up
A silver goblet of spiced  wine nipped her tongue
Hot sweet ginger nutmeg cinnamon Dark lashes


Details | Free verse | |

DYING OF ANXIETY

DYING OF ANXIETY

Very tall, I mean not too short
A Plump, you mean
No, of a slim figurative expression
Yes, but dark in body colour
Not light enough to lit 
The room in darkness
Neither here nor there, is that!
Of the chocolate colour,
Is she hot-tempered, over-jealous or
Gentle like a dove without pretence
My head chorused at once
Still, dying of anxiety.

Does he have a beard?
Or his hair full of bush or baldness?
Is he looking mean
With a scaring scar on his face?
Or does he belong to the 
“Lion Entanglement Tribe?”
Is he a man with a tender heart?
Or with a heart-melting gentle touch 
Does he have a strong palm like the farmer?  
Or snores like a pig while on a mattress
She sighed a breath of relief to the day to behold
As fear of the unknown grip her body.

As cock crows in the dark early hours
It’s a day off the d-day
The day of emotional confrontation 
I smiled for the day to Romeo my Juliet
Suddenly, anxiety cast aspersion on my smile.


Alayande Stephen T.
5.44pm
12th November, 2007


It was inside an Ayobo vehicle, was going home for a revival.
Lion Entanglement Tribe means people with Tribal marks in Africa


Details | Rhyme | |

Broken Crayons

 as a young child 
you don’t understand
the cause of broken crayons
is from your hand
you push hard to make it dark 
you have to learn over time
making a picture dark 
doesn’t color any line
so your mommy tries to tape them 
and that color just wont work
like it did at first 
taping a crayon is not something new
my mommy taped my crayons 
when I broke the color blue
I thought I would be smart
and I tried  to use some glue
but that didn’t work either
before I know it, I had broken two
if you learn to color gently 
your crayons will last 
then taped crayons will be a thing of the past


Details | Blank verse | |

Root

A long time ago, in the dark lands of the gentile pagans
The people where like giants and our twelve spies; ants!
The spies’ mission went sour and they were almost captured.
Ten managed to escape to our lovely desert camps; enraptured!
The other two made themselves scarce, to the inconvenience of a woman
 Who hid them in the roof of her house and lied to save their hides.   
By and by, our brave woman married one spy and another gentile woman
Married the other spy…oh the dreadful tides!!!
It so happened that our promiscuous spies both died, and at the same time too.
Their distraught mother (for they were brethren) decided to return home.
But the woman who had first hid them made bid to return with her
But Old Childless Mother said “turn away my daughters for thou hast seen I have 
No sons and am too old and ugly to attract a man, for surely any man attracted to
Me in this state must darn well be impotent or desperate!”
The second saw reason and turned back home to her shows for her name was Orpah Winfey.
The one who had first hid the spies refused and said (with courageous theme playing in 
The background) “intreat me not to turn aside, for wither thou goest, I will go and wither 
Thou lodgest I shall be thine squatter and where thou diest I shall be present for the wake keep!”
When she saw that her determination was deeply ruthed, Old Childless Widow sayest unto her;
“Damn, why the hell not!”
So it came to pass that Ruth came to dwell with us, the chosen people.
But she was an outright lazy pile of bones, what with all the sitting all day under palm trees
And gisting and gossiping with passersby.  Well some folk thought she was a prophet
His name was Barak Oboma, he was dark and handsome and he was our leader.
She made him start a war with the people in the East whose military was whispered 
In dark places to be to be “The Talibansers” but that is a tale for another day.
Here ends the unnecessarily protracted and adjusted story of Root: the harlot turn
 Wife turn widow turn immigrant turned prophet.


Details | Blank verse | |

Root

A long time ago, in the dark lands of the gentile pagans
The people where like giants and our twelve spies; ants!
The spies’ mission went sour and they were almost captured.
Ten managed to escape to our lovely desert camps; enraptured!
The other two made themselves scarce, to the inconvenience of a woman
 Who hid them in the roof of her house and lied to save their hides.   
By and by, our brave woman married one spy and another gentile woman
Married the other spy…oh the dreadful tides!!!
It so happened that our promiscuous spies both died, and at the same time too.
Their distraught mother (for they were brethren) decided to return home.
But the woman who had first hid them made bid to return with her
But Old Childless Mother said “turn away my daughters for thou hast seen I have 
No sons and am too old and ugly to attract a man, for surely any man attracted to
Me in this state must darn well be impotent or desperate!”
The second saw reason and turned back home to her shows for her name was Orpah Winfey.
The one who had first hid the spies refused and said (with courageous theme playing in 
The background) “intreat me not to turn aside, for wither thou goest, I will go and wither 
Thou lodgest I shall be thine squatter and where thou diest I shall be present for the wake keep!”
When she saw that her determination was deeply ruthed, Old Childless Widow sayest unto her;
“Damn, why the hell not!”
So it came to pass that Ruth came to dwell with us, the chosen people.
But she was an outright lazy pile of bones, what with all the sitting all day under palm trees
And gisting and gossiping with passersby.  Well some folk thought she was a prophet
His name was Barak Oboma, he was dark and handsome and he was our leader.
She made him start a war with the people in the East whose military was whispered 
In dark places to be to be “The Talibansers” but that is a tale for another day.
Here ends the unnecessarily protracted and adjusted story of Root: the harlot turn
 Wife turn widow turn immigrant turned prophet.


Details | Blank verse | |

Root

A long time ago, in the dark lands of the gentile pagans
The people where like giants and our twelve spies; ants!
The spies’ mission went sour and they were almost captured.
Ten managed to escape to our lovely desert camps; enraptured!
The other two made themselves scarce, to the inconvenience of a woman
 Who hid them in the roof of her house and lied to save their hides.   
By and by, our brave woman married one spy and another gentile woman
Married the other spy…oh the dreadful tides!!!
It so happened that our promiscuous spies both died, and at the same time too.
Their distraught mother (for they were brethren) decided to return home.
But the woman who had first hid them made bid to return with her
But Old Childless Mother said “turn away my daughters for thou hast seen I have 
No sons and am too old and ugly to attract a man, for surely any man attracted to
Me in this state must darn well be impotent or desperate!”
The second saw reason and turned back home to her shows for her name was Orpah Winfey.
The one who had first hid the spies refused and said (with courageous theme playing in 
The background) “intreat me not to turn aside, for wither thou goest, I will go and wither 
Thou lodgest I shall be thine squatter and where thou diest I shall be present for the wake keep!”
When she saw that her determination was deeply ruthed, Old Childless Widow sayest unto her;
“Damn, why the hell not!”
So it came to pass that Ruth came to dwell with us, the chosen people.
But she was an outright lazy pile of bones, what with all the sitting all day under palm trees
And gisting and gossiping with passersby.  Well some folk thought she was a prophet
His name was Barak Oboma, he was dark and handsome and he was our leader.
She made him start a war with the people in the East whose military was whispered 
In dark places to be to be “The Talibansers” but that is a tale for another day.
Here ends the unnecessarily protracted and adjusted story of Root: the harlot turn
 Wife turn widow turn immigrant turned prophet.


Details | Free verse | |

Tale from the Lore

I have seen so much of life how can I
Give meaning to the moving parts
The ass long dead on the playfield breathing still
Until some boy accurate with a stone
Hit the gut, as from the rectum spilled
A whole family of little pigs

I have dogs stuck in heat, and the hitch
Commanding the brute's location at her will
It was a marriage made of desire
He could not leave her and she would not retire
That old adage fell apart
For the dog could desert his sweetheart

I have seen human necessity too
The great songstress eating what she left in the loo
And on the walls was smeared
The sum of all she beared
And every place the same disgrace
The stench upon her comatose face

But mark this
Mark this skeptic of the supernatural kind
Mark the stories messing up his mind
Stories they tell at quiet evenings
Of apparitions and rolling calves, the three legged kind
Mark this without misgivings
The preach coming to it in the dark of early morning

For with sweating hand upon the door
He heard in the dark before his eyes
A sight invisible to his fear
There was a crop, crop, crop, on the lawn
And then clop, clop, clop with chains moving on
And I had no stone to count three
While throwing only two behind me
No salt for dry of mouth
All disbelief is vanished when sense shout
If you cannot comprehend by me
The rolling calf is in the vicinity
Lord, did you feel the slow leak down my knees
The coming closer of the darkening trees

O silly man child
Turn the lights on and behold
The donkey from your neighbor's fold
Taking your yard for his lost wild
Rattling his chain against his black coat.