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Fear Funny Poems | Funny Poems About Fear

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

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Details | Rhyme |

A Good Appearance With A Bad Intention

My adored is here, Oh Vincent! Charming with your perfume's scent not minding if it costs just 50 cent. Wishing to lean on you and form a crescent on your well endowed body which is like an expensive present. Stealing a kiss from me is decent but pulling me back and forcefully keeping my legs bent; even with my resistance, you would not relent makes you a pathetic Dog 100 percent. And I am regretful of my time badly spent. I escaped, when you were a little complacent as you rudely smiled like a badly trained Adolescent. And all these while, I thought you were innocent. How dare you try to penetrate without passing through my consent? Now that the beast in you, you represent, the only thing I have to say to you is REPENT!


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


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 | Ballad |

Across the Way - The Sequel

Another day and the dishes have piled up yet again
So back I end up in front of the window 
I do not glance up, but concentrate
On the dull, dirtied objects before me
I do not hear the voices from yesterday
I still wallow in the grime of gray
I smile in malcontent
As I lather the dishes with soap
Against my will, I look up 
To see a lone, fat man opening a refrigerator
He is shirtless, bulgy, and he looks pregnant
My first supposition is to laugh
But I only look back down at the dishes
Not wanting to stare at the fat man
Not wanting to think he looks pregnant
For sure not wanting him to be my neighbor
Across the way

Against my will again, I look up
The fat, pregnant man is gone
I see ornaments on the refrigerator
Some pictures, some magnets
Family; not so different from my life
But yet, there is a transparent fancy of mystery
A flashy rage of difference in the silence
Oh, so quiet
The blazing sun sprays its light upon the hour
Not only are my hands wet from the soapy water
The deafening tone of quietude
Revels in me a mixture of loneliness and physical heat
A burning desire for something not seen
A desire for utter disgust of my newly found neighbors
But I find myself not disgusted at all
Until I look up again and see a fully naked man at the window
Across the way


Details | Dramatic monologue |

To Hurt To Say,But I'm Sorry

To Hurt to say,But I'm sorry.





Do you know how much it hurt.To see you disappear from a memories I have yet recalled.Your heart so ice cold there's nothing I can do for it.
Let me touch your chest and feel the breeze that escapes from if.
Did you know that with ever king there are rebels who dares chain him down.
Everyone person can life is determined by they way the express themselves.
And anyone can forge a fake life to get away and hide from their reality.
I'm going to be you reality has my hand reaches your face let me show you what it means to be hit by reality and take it seriously.Hopeless,Agony,Fear,Terrified, Corrupted.
I haven't had enough of your ego,of your smile,the lies that surround you.
Ha! let me see you fall and crawl don't beg it unsightly but crawl for you are the man the  shadow man.
Cling to me as i show you the grief and fear and anger I have of losing you,the only thing connecting me to you is the blood I waste on the ground in the night time wake.
Watch it fall as I cut deeper.How many times did I cry for you and you never even cared enough to answer me? 
Your faceless,heartless,cold eyes let me thank you.
Your turning my to stone your helping me write these disgusting feeling down every night.
You gave me something so powerful not even you could destroy them now these hands of course.
As I drink this  to ease my pain and free my self of this relapsing phase.Let me be happy let me be sad let me mad let me become depressed for I'm so bipolar it hurts.
How dare you trampled my pride and toss me around like a lifeless doll...Was I really your luggage you tried to throw away?
Be honest lies don't work no more for I've see everything everyone as danger has liar beggar and theive coming after me.Thank you for being my venom.
I'm sorry if I hurt you I never meant to.
Would you forgive me if I laid down to rest and not wake up again?
Please tell me.I can't help but feel like something useless in this wild game of tag and empty felt.It hurts you should know,So don't take to much time and tell me how you feel.
At least then I can dance with you.


Details | Couplet |

Living the Dream

My nightmare is so tangible...so vividly I dream,
The dream, it feels so true to me...reality it seems.

Exhaust and smoke are all I breathe...the air is full of smog...
The job I do is thankless toil, but I work it like a dog.

There's mercury in the fish I eat...there're toxins in my food...
And drugs, they are a constant scourge...myriads for every mood.

Bipolar is my government...a house divided 'tis...
And corporations drive both sides...in the pockets of "Big Biz".

The icecaps, they are melting...the sea is rising, too.
Pandas, condors, polar bears -- empty cages at the zoo.

My money ne'er seems quite enough...I'm always out of cash...
My freedom fled when I wed my bride...(live I under the lash).

"Entertainment"? Reality TV...maybe some vampire shows...
Or idjits becoming household names for being beachfront "ho's".

People clamor "climate change" from the seats of S.U.V.'s,
And bitter news on the honey front...what's killing all the bees?

Politicians spending more...we go deeper in the red.
Opinions dressed as "news" abound...is journalism dead?

Cell phones are ubiquitous...conversation's endangered now...
And "Kardashians" are famous girls..but who knows why or how?

How strange my twisted psyche is t'make real what must be fake...
Now'f only I could find some way to get myself to wake.


Written on November 27th, 2012
By Daniel Beus (Rebel Sun)


Details | Free verse |

My Boredom Disease

Like sick allergies, 
Boredom can be passed around
I call it: THE BOREDOM DISEASE

Like a horrid storm,
Boredom can catch you off guard
Hold on for DEAR LIFE!

Like the whooping cough,
Boredom can be serious
If I were you, I’d
Get a vaccination ! 


Details | Free verse |

Self PORTRAIT

I will start with using my hand as a guide
And in the end I will open my eyes that I will decide

I consider to do this with one thing in mind
I will close my eyes and will imagine it blind
With no colors or fractionation of the light
Just plain me and a vision with my hand as my sight

My hair is very coarse and some what fine
What I just described is so benign  
I twirl my hair and make it bend 
And I will say its very clean not oily on the ends

As I press on my forehead I simply feel a distinct part
I notice from hair to skin it is very different from the start
The simple partings from hair not like skin
I am going to feel with my other hand and begin

The smoothness of my skin like years of water eroding a rough rock surface smooth
Not just that my skin is like home to years of stories like scars and attitude
And when I raise my eyebrows the wrinkles it makes is more so for expression
I did not notice it with certain ideas, thoughts, and emotions

I run my hands down to my eyelids I feel movement of my eyes trying to peek
Eyelids that I have, vibrates with some kind of fear, Why?, that I will seek
Just now as I thought about it a sensation ran through my brain
My eyes is the world to me and that is true and not insane

Myself portrait of me is through my touch for now
But to finish it I will have to open my eyes soon and how
I been in a trance full of so many ideas just with my eyes closed
I run my hand on my nose and lips and I smile who could apposed

The feelings in the tip of my fingers rub on my chin and jaw with care
I do notice roughness of unshaved velcro gripping hair 
I skip my ears so I will sneak a feel with my fingers I chose
I notice it is like my nose with cartilage, so I don't suppose

I will now open my eyes that I will use a mirror to see myself
My head is oval shape and my neck is like a stump, please help
My skin is very tan and my eyes are brown with my eyes I see
With all the description with my hands, one sure thing is the same and key

It is the description of measurements that is what my hands and eyes can see me
With a smile I am looking into the mirror and I can describe that I am happy
Myself portrait of me is such a way to get to know myself once more
I will never think it was a waste of time or a bore




Details | Rhyme |

Hah Ha Hah Holloween Night

Fingers,the bones,
     Force through a casket,
A body appears,
     Or should I say,what's left,
Groans and moans,
      Earth bursting all around,
Covering my ears,
      Shutting out this horrible sound,
Countless dead,
      Raising from the ground,
In your chest,
      Twice as fast your heart pound,
Searching for the living,
       This Halloween night,
Better not be caught,
        It won't be a wonderful sight....

Creepy,scary,laugh,hah,ha,hah...


Details | Light Poetry |

Poetic PRESCRIPTION:

                               NO REFILLS---Dr. P. Soupenstein
                               Rx *7563287      BEC 11/11/11      
Seems to me,
what you need 
for healing this condition...
is something real
you can feel
to ease this mean affliction

Patient please
accept from me
this poetry prescription:

      ( <_____PUSH & TURN_____> )

Take ONE positive poem
Read ORALLY 2 times BY MOUTH -----
Every 4-6 HOURS AS NEEDED for the pain 

Blues and belly aches will dissipate
resulting in healthy energy gains 

                  WARNING!!!
-Alcohol may intensify the effect of being drowsy 
attempting to read while operating machines... 
will cause you to drive lousy.


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