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Funny Metaphor Poems | Funny Poems About Metaphor

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

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Details | Free verse | |

The Elephant in the Room

3 polished oak fans,
Swirling in robotic unison

High maintenance socialites,
Sipping on Merlot fallacies

Lemon yellow coated walls,
Flat,
Like their smiles

Comparisons of dangling Porsche & Bentley keys
A glorified day care center,
Pacifiers included

The muted virtuosos speak softly in hymn dialects.

Courtesy laughter in snob’s octave

Their heads twitching side to side,
Left to right to left

An equilibrium facing assault charges against self

They slow dance to cello dreams
And E minor dividends

Two-step monotone, sway
Against platinum lacquer foundations

…

But, it was then.

These same socialites,
Made of recycled candle wax
And rubberized, hedge-fund confidence,
Began to stare longingly at the party host’s 70 inch plasma TV

Proudly imported from China

“Attention uptight snobs of Mecca!
The city zoo has imploded!
The monkeys revolted!
The zebras were tired of being racially profiled!
Run for your LIV…!”
(SMASH!)

And before the reporter’s frightened inner child could finish’s his clause,
An elephant crashes into the decadent room
Filled with Crisp linen scents of Febreze & judgmental fear

It stares at the socialites,
Laughing heartedly as it playfully stomps away into constellation’s onyx night

As tears waterfall from the snobs’ sobbing eye sockets
As if they just listened to another Celine Dion song

The real newsflash

Metaphors played hooky today

©Drake J. Eszes


Details | Free verse | |

Mythical pest

My parents complain of a mythical pest,

Infesting our house since the 7th of July,

Devouring the snacks, desserts,

delicacies and everything hot, spicy or sweet,

Determined to find the beast,

Fattened with food meant for me.

with a magic wand and on a broom to hunt

set out may it be a lachupakabra or a lepricorn,

Scary or naughty and anything the creature might wield

ready with a device from my dad given to me with a grin

the device, the compass, the guide to the beast

was a mirror reflecting its scaled skin scarlet red

staring at me with cat like blue eye

fierce and mighty.

Not a pest but is a mythical beast

Omega and almighty! It was me

Perplexed, gave up the hunt.

now feasting on poisonously, maliciously, dangerously

in sugary syrup gulab jamuns soaking.


Details | Verse | |

Sockspeare Thou

Sockspeare, Thou!

Tonight I sensed the arts' demise
and thought of your indecent writ
that could be used to kill the flies
that buzz above your perfumed feet.

To liberate what's kept inside
you must allow yourself to dart
where inspiration poisoned died 
cause of your mindless abstract art.

But this is wrong! The muses went
(because your odored feet emit
condensed that deathly worn socks scent) , 
outside to breathe! Lickety split! 

Your mind, surprisingly, expressed
what could be taken for a verse
tormented nostrils were suppressed
their agonized intake was terse.

Your fans, inhaling the extrait
(those well worn socks let loose with pride)    
decided to command in verse
what should be buried cause it died.

They called it 'poem' but was known
that flies, somehow, became extinct, 
bystanders run to wear cologne, 
your Sockspeare theme, was thus succinct.

Those blackened socks you wore around
with plastic sneakers, bought on sale,
became the cause the fish have drowned
and deathly scents were to curtail.

Please tell us why thy feet perfumes
became the symbol of foot-prose?
Dug up feet-ology exhumes
what should be listed to dispose.

© 10-13-2013, G. Venetopoulos, All Rights Reserved
(Iambic tetrameter)
(funny, lol!)


Details | Quatrain | |

Beyond Salvage

An old herbal gard’ner turned bard
dedicated and well-versed
now works his pen from his backyard
in plants and poems immersed.

His choice nouns engender meaning
cleverly minted with scents.
Rare verbs gingerly gleaning
from time’s savory essence.

Somewhat focused on composing
but nettled by a drizzle;
unexpected down-hosing
causes his brain to fizzle.

Lo! His inspiration now gone
like the ink upon his page.
Mrs. Bard calls from the lawn
“I just watered the sage.”


Details | Couplet | |

Her Nibs

Day in, and day out, from the ripe old age of five
I’ve take to sharp objects and whittled at their sides.

Plotting the precise angle with penetrating gaze,
the slant of slice, just so nice, as memory replays.

With curt tongue and tireless ire, I shred the sages
Burroughs, and Asimov, the Shakespeare past ages.

Butchering with rare delight, the language on the page
lancing every metaphor and simile upstaged.

and so I've arrived her in rhythm and in rhyme  
killing the English language as other people dine.





*Nibbs are the pointed ends of fountain pens
as well as being an important or self-important person


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 | Free verse | |

Three Inch Cliches

The Soul is the Beautiful Light of Love
Shining like the sun through the 
NO
As the reader, I’m going to have to cut you off there.
Here’s a metaphor for you…
Reading is ****ing.
And your words hit our auditory canals
Like a hotdog down a hallway.
As an experienced reader, I’m after 
The virgin vernacular 
The aphrodisiac aphorism
You know- the big… black words
You feel me?
Because a line is a flashlight, exposing the world’s nudity-
And we’ll never get anywhere shining it in the same spot.
So kiss me with classy couplets
Smack my assonance!
Bring me to the climax-
And we’ll share a smoke together,
Warm beside the fire of your Three Inch Clichés.


Details | Lay | |

I AM INTELLIGENCE

I AM INTELLIGENCE!
In world of mannequins, I step to the cause. I see this woman fussing at her child about wanting to go to the park. How formed is this. Hello Lady and such a beautiful boy he is. He wants to play in the park. However, you do not have time for that. Let me see if I can solve your problem. I am Intelligence. Intelligence is a superhero that forms very delightful scenes. I am humorous as well. With superhuman powers, I provide a child with a dream. I give this one the dream of playing in the park. The child stops crying and obeys his mother. In another episode, I am sent, telepathically, an abusive scene. I transform arriving there instantly. Through superhuman powers, I find a nurse and instruct him via mind to be compassionate. Intelligence watched for several days. The facility conformed their healthcare tactics to better ways. A little girl has broken her leg. Her mother neglects and flagellates her more when she does not feel well. Intelligence has watched for a short while. The scene was sent via the mother verbally abusing her child. Then she would stop for quite some time. However, the child broke her leg while riding her bike. The mother sees the chance to abuse outright. Intelligence deploys to her mind and the mother begins to praise the child. Intelligence is a moralistic superhero. No age or race barriers does this superhero has. In the time of hostilities, I am there. I was given my superhuman abilities to achieve peace unconditionally. ----------------------------------------------------------------------| PENNED ON AUGUST 30, 2014!


Details | Clerihew | |

Not, yet

I dreamt myself as poet-frog
And good Fancy` Fairy
Would stoop to pick my verse…
But she didn`t come.


Details | Verse | |

Inevitable Bear

Oh lonely Inevitable Bear,
Padding claws, death in white
Sorrow in recurring nightmare
Instinct’s test; fight or flight?

Camouflage against the fence,
A challenge; my subconscious fear
Ominous slowly moving silence,
“Let me in, there’s a bear out here!”


Details | Rhyme | |

Oodles of Joy

"Oodles of Joy"
In the morning of everyday i 
start
I make a food that's really 
smart
Crunch'em, rip'em, and pour'em out 
As saliva pools form in my 
mouth 
Put it in the mic for just about 
three
Impatiently  watching those 
beautiful noodles waiting for 
me
When the time Is up
I Pop it open and take them out 
And start shoving "Oodle's of 
Noodles" into my mouth. 
 
Khalil Wali


Details | Haiku | |

All About the Music: The Infinite Magic of Lyricism

Pop may be catchy
But not lyrically deep
Case in point: Chris Brown.


(N.B. Poem written after hearing "Don't Wake Me Up")


Details | Iambic Pentameter | |

pique nique I


Enchanting is the beauty of your pic
I reckon if we tried the night to guile
you would become a pique nique exotique
anthology of verse to read worthwhile.

Shan't ever inspirations lead this flight
above the vastness of blue seas and you
Hors d'oeuvres' delicacy and choice of sight
a connoisseur of arts should taste fondue.

© G.V. 07-22-2013


Details | Prose | |

The Globe

Sometimes I can literally feel the burn of silence. 
It’s somewhere within my bones, 
a blank slate made of heavy metal poisoning.
 Perhaps if I cut deep enough, I can retrieve it
 and find the inspiration needed to purpose
 the lonely canvas I’ve sheltered for so long.
 And with a marrow’d ink I’ll scribe the secrets
 I’ve forgotten over years of mirrored eye
 rolling and self propelled pity #$%*s.
 Finally, I’ll be free to pool the ashes,
 and build my castle of upside down day dreams, 
and brightly lit nightmares.
 I’ll call it “The Globe”, 
and dress like Shakespeare would if he grew up in the 90’s, 
and all my friends can help perform my drunkenly scrawled 
screenplays that lead, inevitably to the death of “The System”
 that we all helped create, 
just so we could have something to destroy.
-James Kelley 2014, All rights reserved.


Details | Grook | |

The ambiguous red herring

Fished all day not a red herring on the line                                                                     but I got a basketful of kipper                                                                                    Hunted all day not a fox one                                                                                             with a red herring on the line  										  a shark ate my sandwich today                                                                                       He got away with the halibut                                                                                          a shark ate him today for the halibut                                                                                He did not get away


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 | Verse | |

Leeroy von Nebulae

Leeroy von Nebulae y Pitter Patter Supernova

Upon the sparkling April field, where the bell-flowers blossomed,
two poets stood amid the blooms, two writers of their wisdom,
where singing aves exalted them, cause deep in verse have fathomed
and treated poetry like none, with loyalty and serfdom.

Meantime the birds were chirping in the leafage of the forest
the two composers synthesized the crop of thoughts that random
became their poetry's free verse, philosophy, thus, modest,
the scriptures called bankrupted talk and artlessness of flotsam.

The authors, thus, amid the trees, and vervains' purple colors,
narrated 'bout the pepper steaks and pizzas pepperoni,
the grayish donkeys and their bray, through softened words of candor
conducting hence this spectacle and joyous ceremony.

What was occurring round the two was godly sent, on purpose;
the softened breeze, the sunny morn, the singing of the birdies,
and furthermore their kindest verse that both believed was flawless,
- the soul's redemption stands upon the praising by the toadies.

Obtusely raising, slow but firm, their tilted thoughts euphoric
have driven both to fly above this natural assemblage,
hence joyful they enjoined the cause of logic anti-strophic,
amid the clouds envisioning a pizza-Heaven-cottage.

Leeroy von Nebulae y Pitter Patter Supernova
expressed their nothingness of verse, that donkeys then recited
and stood impassive 'mid the blooms, their thoughts a dull cadenza,
evaluated by the birds, that chirped their notes, astounded.

© 03-23-2014, G. Venetopoulos, All Rights Reserved
(Iambic decapentasyllabic verse)


Details | Limerick | |

Life is Like: Collection 1

Life is like a rollercoaster
Made up of many trains:
It has its ups
It has its downs,
And drives some folks insane.
(It also has a tendency
To liquefy the brains)

Life is like a rosebush
With many budding blossoms:
But please be warned,
This bush has thorns
That make the prize less awesome
(and if your buds get mangled
You've got to burn or toss 'em)

Life is like a hurricane
It brings rain but destroys:
Buildings boats and skyscrapers
And other human toys
(Along with human businesses
And greater human joys)

Life is like an apple
A treat down to the core:
But working for that shiny red
Is certainly a chore
(Especially for those folks
Who've never worked before)

Life is like a bowl of milk
When freshly poured, is sweet:
As it ages, it turns hard
To change to cheese to eat
(Though I wonder why some folks
Eat cheese that smell like feet)


Details | Free verse | |

Mocha

I usually find the taste of coffee
Far too bitter for my taste
But this mocha is smooth 
And so sweet

Warm on my lips
And rushing hot on my tongue
Flooding my body with heat
And making me want more

I feel more awake with every sip
But can never get enough
Since mocha coffee is addictive
And if the taste is slightly bitter too

I want it all the more


Author's Note: Do I really like coffee? No. Like the smell, like the ice cream, but tastes icky.
No, this poem is talking about a person. This was written to tease him.
It's funny because he's mocha colored :)


Details | Rhyme | |

Our politicians

Our Politicians
They speak like politicians
And hold a great ambition.
They think they are right
And same speech they recite.
They always gather for a bite
Deciding who should start the fight.
All have their own stations
To be the victims of cremation.
They gather their own crowd
Who cheer and clap to any sound.
They think they are right
Only here for a bite.
They speak like Aristo
And act like Montecristo!
They smoke big cigars
And all drive tinted cars.
They dress in glitter
And all have Twitter.
They act so polite
But hardly can write.
Always in action
Only during the election.
To make a collection
Or a connection.
O What a time you feel like 
Committing a crime.

For a brief background about this poem, pls, read the poem (Beirut).


Details | I do not know? | |

Illegitimi non Carborundum

Illegitimi non carborundum ;-)


...Staggering, my vision cloudy,


I fall to the hard ground.


when life’s sharp left-jab leaves my face bloody,


and all that surrounds me, is the desolation of loss I feel all around.



I see myself slipping,

down the abyss to where nothingness exists,


still, I cling on, groping for a foothold,

for my will to stay persists.



I clamber up, I stand my ground, though battered and bruised I may be,


my curtain is not falling yet, I have some fight still left in me.



It is then, in the pit of despair, when all seems bleak and painful and dull,


I summon the strength from deep within,


I rise, slowly, to face the day,


I refuse to sink,

to wallow, to surrender, to throw in the towel,


to drown,


for I am stronger now,


indeed I am, after all the years, and all the battles,


I stand, bruised and bloody,


still,


I stand,


I refuse, to sink, to drown,


for they can try, to punish me some more,


but I shall not allow them to grind me down…


;-)


Details | Free verse | |

Bad Friday

Friday morning 
I hopped out of the shower, 
popped over to the lavatory counter, 
flopped my most profound sexual characteristic 
down and onto a misplaced curling iron, 
burning the tender center of my-very-being. 
Thankfully 
Ms. Careless had left a glass of iced coke, 
by her torturing implement. 
I quickly and fully submerged my pain, 
into the cooled, amber liquid. 

Friday evening 
I attended my first and last meeting 
of the Brazoria County Poetry league. 
I arrived at the BCPL president’s home 
by invitation, to hear their guest speaker, 
a young, professor of literature, 
from Rice University. 
He spoke at great length about metaphors. 
What a metaphor was. 
How poets used metaphors 
to improve imagery in poetry. 
He gave examples of metaphors, 
and more examples, 
explaining each one in detail. 
It was raining damn metaphors. 

I would have lapsed into a metaphoric coma, 
if I had not discovered my bourbon glass 
to be much too small, requiring me to rise, 
and refill it several times. 

When Dr. Metaphor finely finished I 
strolled over to where he was smiling, 
and announced that he was 
full of rhetorical trope, 
and didn’t know anything about real poetry, 
and he had stepped on a metonymy 
and it stank the room up. 
And we poets from the sticks 
didn’t need a hot-shot from Houston 
telling us how to write poetry. 
and the president of the BCPL 
grabbed my arm, 
and snatched my glass from my hand, 
and it still had boozes in it. 
And he promenaded me to the door, 
and assured me that I was talent-less, 
and that drinking myself to death 
would be my one and only contribution to poetry. 
He pushed me out of his home, 
onto his front steps, 
slammed the door in my face, 
after suggesting 
I never attend another meeting of the BCPL. 
For a moment, I was stunned, 
then bowing to his authority 
I hurled on his “Welcome” mat. 

And Friday morning 
as I stood in the bathroom 
cradling my tormented body element 
with both hands, 
the Queen of the Bastille entered, 
demanded to know -What my problem was? 
I informed her I had no problem, 
and suggested she drink her damn coke… 
before the ice melted. 


Details | Light Poetry | |

Orange Angst

Last week I was shopping for ideas on the corner of metaphor and allegory,
Rummaging through a pile of discount words to help me tell a story.

A shelf of very expensive words caught my eye because they were so flirty,
Then a drawer of words that must have fallen down because they were so dirty.

There were several words in a mark down bin and they were really cheap,
And even though they didn’t quite fit I decided that I would keep…. them.

I could bend them down and twist them around until the sentence was a maze,
With just a little bit of reworking I found that I could shape them into a phrase.

I’d have to wrestle with a word sometimes until my huffing face turned purple,
Then I‘d have to resort to telling lies like, an aglet is also called a nerple.

Remember when you’re shopping for words that orange creates angst,
And that a poem is never really done until the subject is properly thanksed.

The word store sent me a coupon in the mail showing the fifty percent off it gives,
It says that this is the greatest sale of all time so I went looking for superlatives.

But when I got there I found out that the sale had several misrepresentations.
It seems the promised discount was only good on words with abbreviations.


Details | Rhyme | |

The Vocabular Extraordinar

 
   With Vocabular Extraordinar their words do
                             entice.
       To know which meaning or their intent
                        would be nice.
         The key to their intoxicating verbal
                        woo and slice.
              is contained in this detailed
                      but sound advice.
      With flick of tongue or scribble of pen
                 on this you can depend.
      They can make you feel praised, loved,
                      scorned or diced.
So if you are smart, of tangling with the learned
                      you'll think twice.
   If not schooled in vocabulary of the learned
                         do be wary.
   What may seem a compliment may be quite
                          to the contrary.
     When said to be ludicrously loquacious it
                   is anything but gracious.
     They are just trying to be mean and oh so
                           pugnacious.
      For the meaning of this is a silly repetitive
                          chatter box.
When you have studied and you think you have
                       out foxed the fox,
  and for a dictionary you seldom have to run.
        Out of left field comes the elude, the
               nuance, metaphor and pun.
Now once again holding their sides they have you
                         back on the run.
    If you think this is enough and that you are
                           about done.
   Oh no my friend this list has only just begun.
 I have given you a start with what I know and
              what I say is from the heart.
   If with the learned a conversation you wish
                               to spark,
   Then in vocabulary you need to school and
                had better get a fast start.
          For to them this is not just an art.

                        IT"S A GAME !!!





                      


Details | Monorhyme | |

Bearded

I wear a beard of aging, upon a cliff-face chin
A year has passed and grown its hairs out from my mottled skin
Mistakes sit there unchallenged, to each fibre clings a sin
Yet despite my facial mask of age the clubs won’t let me in


Details | Free verse | |

My Secret Prison

Trapped again!

Maze hidden cheddar eluding 
every twisting turn a doorway 
to the path I’ve already forgotten
a spirit broken within each hidden cul-de-sac.

I cry.

Depression building my will 
crumbling into fatal despair
that rages with a whisper
as quiet as a hurricane.

I sleep.

I scream at one wall 
HA! HA! HA!
hundreds more continue laughing.
Right! Left! NO! RIGHT! Left! Right! LEFT! YES! Right!

I succumb.

Cheddar thoughts and running 
water sustain my desire to escape
through walls of scent
filled dreams of freedom.

I laugh.

Test complete. Failure.
Should have smelled for Camembert.


Details | Rhyme | |

Metamorphic - a change for the better

And did you really know before
What on earth is a meta for?
It makes you understand, I think
What changes when you have a drink
Another example might well be
What changes when you carve a tree
And as for metabolic rate
That’s why your fat me dear old mate
Whereas a metaphor If sought
Might just give you some food for thought


Details | Light Poetry | |

Disenchanted Muse

My muse did her fealty recuse
My honor she did stealthily reconnoiter
My discourse was grounds for divorce
Finding my writing no longer enlightening
My blithe parlance no longer my mistress did entrance
With my prose she did forthrightly dispose
Each short she did subsequently abort
Each regaling verse did prudently disburse
Each perforated line truncated with lackluster shine
Each conjured sentence only increased my penance
Each glamorous byline she did smugly decline  
Each dilated phrase with a bridling border did encase  
Each gilded stanza a burnished extravaganza yielding no artful bonanza
Each tethered word coagulated into a stolid curd
Each bloated quote sunk my creative float deeper in the moat 
Each lofty rhyme labeled too smarmy and sublime
My metric time no longer struck a concordant chime
Each literary device neatly spliced would not even a novice entice 
Each repetitive, stagnant metaphor made my verse a bore
Each strained, tortured simile engendered no empathy
Each supplanted metonymy a shock wave lobotomy