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Funny Life Poems | Life Poems About Funny

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

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Details | Cowboy |

Hard Times

When hard times come they sit a spell, Like kin folk come to stay A-packin' troubles, pets an' kids That always get ‘n your way. It's drought an' flood, an' flood an' drought, There ain't much in-between. You work like hell to make ’em good, But still they’re sorta lean. The ranch went under late last year, The drought got mighty tough. The boss held-out a long, long time, But finally said, "enough!" So here I am dispatchin’ cops An’ watchin’ felons sleep, In Junction, at the county jail, A job I’ll prob’ly keep. The wife, she works at Leisure Lodge, Where older people stay, A-makin’ beds an’ moppin’ floors To earn some ‘extra’ pay. Though “extra pay‘s” the term I used, It goes to payin’ rent, An’ after all the bills are paid, We wonder where it went. We hocked my saddle, guns an' chaps, An' then our weddin' rings; Then when we couldn't pay the loan, They sold the 'dad-blamed' things. We felt real bad a day or two But then we let it go, Cause it got Christmas for the kids When money got real slow. When hard times come they sit a spell, Don't matter who you are; They'll cost ya things you've set aside, An' clean your cookie jar. You'll loose some sleep an' worry some, Won't pay to moan an' groan; But hang on to your happiness, They'll finally leave ya 'lone.


Details | Prose Poetry |

She read me Dr Seuss

6:35 A.M.

Sunrise against my neck
that no cheap tan booth could ever match.

I ring the doorbell in anticipation of joy’s injection.

I needed it.

Because I left my cell phone in the car,
as I didn’t want to hear any chimed email
or text annoyances.

And the car just got cleaned,
only for the birds to have their way
on its waxy shine.

Bastards!

Time to grab the flamethrower from my trunk!

But, before I could scream in Braveheart declaration,
there she was.

Her 6 yr old smile,
made of 1/4 inch gaps between innocence enamel,
captured me like no other could.

“Tio”, she preached in angelica sonata.

As she held me,
held me,
with puppy love warmth.

Even the rainbows fell to its knees.

She took off my jacket with ferret-like perkiness and
asked me to sit on the floor with her.

But, not before offering to toast me some Eggo waffles
with a big glass of Ovaltine…
…in her Little Mermaid glass,
proudly made in North Korea.

It even had the dictator’s initials and a bucktooth smiley face stamp, signed in glitter
that said:
“Kid-safe”.

Thank God I just took my online course in Child Safety.
I was ready!

As I sip on Little Mermaid’s curves,
shaped in plastic, swirly straw weirdness,
a sound blasts off from a Barbie radio.

My 2 yr old angel galloped into this heart of mine,
with Tinnitus piercing scream & laughter,
tackling me in Incredible Hulk lunge.

“Hi Tio”, she whispered, before she hopped back upstairs, 
Ninja Turtle-style,
laughing maniacally with rapid head tilts, left to right to left.

Boys will fear her. 
And I couldn’t be more proud.

After two moments of silence, 
my 6 yr old angel places her Dr. Seuss book on my lap,
as she sits in front of me.

“I can r-r-read
with my eye-s
shut.”

She carefully completed the sentence,
as my eyes instantly fill with leaky pride
and an ingrained smile.

10 minutes later, she shut her book and asked me how she did.
“I am so proud of you my angel.”
“You have come so far.”

I had to hold back tears because I didn’t want to throw her off.
Yet I think she knew,
because she kept her head down and smiled with gentle starburst.

Mission accomplished.

And it was then where I heard her say,
“Those who matter don’t mind,
those who mind don’t matter.”

But she was quiet, looking at me with tilted head & smile.

For it was my inner child, 
speaking
clear.

© Drake J. Eszes


Details | Couplet |

All About Carolyn

When my time is done and I am finally laid to rest
I don’t want to be recalled as one who lived life depressed

So as I wrote my will, I chose to leave an instruction
That laughing gas be inhaled by all those at the function

No mournful eulogies will a pastor have to invent
For my funeral will be held under a circus tent

When dozens of clowns emerge from the tiny Volkswagen
Reams of my silly limericks Bozo will be dragin’

And as they’re read aloud, family and friends who knew me best
Will say, “She had a sense of humor, this we can attest.”

Mimes will mimic me trying to write the world’s best novel
As my corpse hangs from the trapeze, surely they will marvel

Laughter will ensue as they shoot me from the cannon
Flying high in my demise across the great Grand Canyon

All the children will smile and there’ll be no tears allowed
So no one will ever remember me as a “dark cloud”

There are people who seem to take life way too seriously 
When I meet my Maker, don’t view this as a tragedy

Dad called me his “happy girl,” so let me go out that way
I want to leave them laughing as I reach my judgment day



Entry for Sidney Lee Ann's "All About You" contest


Details | Prose Poetry |

Lucila

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


Details | I do not know? |

80 Proof Nights

A foggy Cuervo morning
I crawl out of my bed
Stagger to the bathroom
With a pounding in my head

It’s just another Sunday
Things can’t get much worse
I think i’ll write a poem
Yes, another drunken verse

Tiny glass of 80 proof
What courage you gave me
To dance upon a table
While crooning karaoke

I truly thought that I could sing
I could hear the people cheer
Then I lost my footing
And fell right on my rear

Now falling off of tables
Isn't really all that dumb
Cause I got such a chuckle
Telling everyone to kiss my bum

I kissed a man I didn’t know
You think that’s absurd
Well his wife was rather angry
When I flipped her the big ol bird

When Jose takes control of me
I have no pride or shame
Doesnt really matter much
Cause no one knows my name

I drank until the wee hours
Things were going great
Until that final shot of gold
That sealed my eveings fate

I spent some time talking
On a ice cold porceline phone
If I survive this night
Tomorrow I will atone

Well today is tomorrow
So forgive me for my sin
Never again will I drink tequila
Instead I’m drinking gin


Details | Monorhyme |

THE CONFESSIONS OF THE WORLD'S WORST HOUSEWIFE

I’m the world’s worst housewife, this I’m confessing The state of this place is more than depressing When I try to tidy I just add to the cess pool of messing If you did a white glove test, a foot of grime you’d be caressing Visitors gasp, drop their jaws and then their gag reflexes require suppressing No, really, it’s so bad that our parish priest refused to do a house blessing Even a snake in the grass with itchy, loose skin would fear undressing Every dish in my kitchen sink soaks in slimy misery, like it is convalescing Clutter increases and my teeny floor space continues regressing There is so much hair in the grey tub you could make a wig with clumps of tress-ing And my bathwater holds mysteries so deep that a Scot would say I am Loch Ness-ing Something in my fridge has been there for so long that its now phosphoresc-ing And that carton of milk? Ew, its contents need no second guessing My family stoops to avoid cobwebs so thick that each droop is oppressing The dust on shelves grows like the love for me that the fluff is now daily professing But that crud in the corner that is starting to smell? I admit, it needs addressing My looking glass is so crusty that all I can see is Alice and those queens a-chess-ing The laundry weighs so much that our concrete floor has started compressing But, frankly, my husband likes it that I’m wearing somewhat less and less-ing I’ve tried to ignore that bag over there, but it’s seeping puss and might be abscessing Once upon a time I answered phones, organized chaos and did word processing Now I’m mom to a girl who gets most of my attention and its she that I’m princess-ing Some of you may think I’m just idleless-ing But we spend most of our days playing, our affection expressing Her sweetness blossoms, though her temperament needs a wee bit of finessing Oh, but she’s cute and funny! How my darling, the world is impressing And at night when she’s asleep- instead of dusting- I prefer letter pressing Does it really matter that my home isn't a palace of some ancienne noblesse-ing? And in MHO an immaculate house is just silly window dressing So come on over, my friends, believe me, my place is in no way stressing In fact, laughter floats in my muddle like bubbles effervesce-ing We dance all day long with dust motes ~ my definition of joy and true success-ing.


Details | Rhyme |

The Pirates Life

    He stands upon the salty,slippery deck,
Yelling yaargh matey ,
with a halfhearted pirate drawl.
He's not to impressed with himself,
not an eyepatch or wooden leg,
not even a hooked claw.
The parrot on his shoulder,
is a wannabee,
a sparrow that fell from the Crowsnest, 
from high up above.
It has no quips ,or spikes,
or pirate quotes,
just nesting on his shoulder 
with birdly kind of love.
Aye captain the crew responds,
snapping to their chores.
Tend the wheel ,lash the mainsail,
take the soundings
 less we hit a reef.
The sea going life is not for every man,
walking the plank,storms and rickets.
Crabs in your knickers ,
really give you grief.
Aah but when the wind fills the sails to bursting,
yards of canvas strain to be free.
And the ropes play ,sea going music
of a tension melody.
A song that captures
every young buccaneers heart ,
and soul and fancy.
For the music of the wanderers life,
an endless expanse of blue,
bravehearts and fearless men find,
quite a bit too chancy.
Black Beard,Yellow Beard,
the famous Captain Blood,
were all fearless pirates of their day.
He truly knows that he can be,
a great one too.
If he could ever find that bleeping map,
and escape this landlocked bay.


Details | Free verse |

My butt crack

My butt crack 
Is quite a split 
It supports the rest of me 
when I sit 
you thought I was gonna say something else didn't you ?

My butt crack 
Is a marvel to behold 
It was cute when I was young 
but now offensive since I'm old 

My butt crack 
Is pretty darn straight 
can you imagine if it was crooked 
pretty weird sight I would rate 

My butt crack 
Is funny to me 
when I bend over in my jeans 
It peeks out 
for you to see 

My butt crack 
wanted me to write this today 
for no other reason 
then just to say......................

I gotta split 


LOL 

Eric (and sometimes not)


Details | Free verse |

LOVE at FIRST SIGHT

Love was in the air when he laid eyes on her.
Childhood; elementary and even high school with her.
Walking towards her, he greeted her.
Anxiety spiraled as he hugged her.
Conversation grew deeper as he sat with her.
Wanting to get closer because he was falling for her.

Another woman called pausing the time he was having with her.
Knowing he had to answer; he stepped away and spoke to her.
She stated that something wasn't quite right with her.
She said that her stomach had been bothering her.
Now he's thinking back if he came inside her.
Thinking if she lied to him about her tubes being tied inside her.

Does he blame himself for listening to her?
Knowing right from wrong and yet he can't blame her.
Does he blame the devil for allowing him to be intimate with her?
Is he not a human that makes mistakes just like her?
Begging God to make a way for him and her.
Asking God to forgive him for committing the sin with her.

God said, "relax my son, you were only dreaming of her."







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


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