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Nostalgia Funny Poems | Funny Poems About Nostalgia

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

Details | Free verse | |

Its Raining...

                          Its Raining…

God’s Cleansing Tool
Cloud-Concerto… How Cool !
Plop-Plop Plopping into Pothole Pools
On the Grass, Pavements and On My Own-Sweet- Fools…

who, don’t have Sense enough, to get out of the Rain…
… I think I’ll go Join Them… Again

                               Amen


Details | I do not know? | |

Nasty girl

   There you go again doing things that you are not suppose to be in and then you look at 
me like oh i'm so sweet if you only knew I can be a freak without showing it. Here they 
go listening to the rumors but i'm your friend so in the end I know that they are true. 
How could you do that with him and her and they were on the ground you were pretending to 
pick up gum? You need to be safe, making out with strangers girl I aint no saint but god 
what are you doing? I don't want to see you years from now telling me you got aids, I 
worry about you and I feel like your special so I even wrote about you come on look how 
much you mean to me. You like him I get it but how many other guys have you liked in the 
past. He's your only, he's a phony make sure he's not just in it for the prize because 
girl you never know some guys are. It's the truth and you need to listen, I don't mean to 
sound bossy but soon enough your name is going to be posted on all the bathrooms walls. 
Telling things that you haven't even done yet. But you will front about it, Lie again. 
Telling everyone it's happened how do we know what's real or fake. I love your 
personality I wish I could steal it, Your loud, and flirty, daring and smart girl you got 
too much heart to be showing it to everyone who wants a sip. this is for all the nasty 
girls out there who think I don't know what i'm saying just ask anyone of them who are 
dead now or are on the streets prostitiuting. Don't be afraid to be a freak it's healthy 
but sometimes it's better when it's secret closet freaks have more fun.


Details | Rhyme | |

The 70's

Back in those heavy times when everything was so far out Our words were but a whisper, the mans were but a shout Flower power was spreading, and everything was out of sight Preaching peace through out the days, and gettin our groove on into the night But we were always gettin hassled, by the fuzz, the man, the pigs They didn't want us smokin doobies, and flashin peace signs, can ya dig? Then peace and love had flourished, we needed to get funky and do our thing We needed a place to get our groove on, so the discos were the scene The threads we wore back then were styling, some were off the hook! It's hard to believe with the slim bread we made, we could carry that funky look? Bellbottoms, platform shoes, and jump suits people were a cravin Boogieing away the nights in the discos, where the lights were just a blazin Then the foxy chicks started getting pregoed, and the discos no longer Dyno-mite! Men needed to start makin more bread, and trying to live the family life But gigs weren't easy to find, and life became somewhat of a drag Some of the dudes skipped town, leaving the foxy mamas holding the bag Well thats the skinny of the seventies, the lowdown of peoples ways So keep on truckin all you cool cats and foxy mamas And remember all those ~Freaky, ~Far Out, ~Out Of Sight days
Dan Kearley:1-21-12


Details | Light Poetry | |

Glutton

This's the world of dreams  and 
reveries
Where I think ev'ry that reels,
After a thousands times,
would as same beliefs things 
besought me,
Is it a mere dream? 


Details | Rhyme | |

Kilroy Was Here

There was an elusive little guy often espied during World War Two,
And who he was and whence he came no one ever really knew!
He was a bald headed little feller with a very prominent nose,
And he always left the message "Kilroy Was Here" in very stilted prose!

You seldom saw his eyes and his hands were clinging to a wall.
Many G.I.s saw him in latrine stalls and in their greasy dining hall!
His origin and parting message are debated to this very day,
And no one has ever nabbed the graffiti artists who always slunk away!

He was portrayed in cruisers, battleships and even on submarines!
Kilroy's portrait was tattooed on the chests of a few diehard Marines!
'Tis said Hitler saw "Kilroy Was Here" and wondered what it meant,
Thinking it a secret code when found on American accouterment!

Kilroy became as famous as the mysterious smile on the Mona Lisa.
(I even saw his mug when I climbed to the top of the Tower of Pisa!)
Rosie the Riveter may have been guilty, if the truth were told,
Of tracing Kilroy's image on bombers, including the bomb bay hold!

Well, 'tis for sure we couldn't have won the war without the little guy!
Kilroy's antics lifted morale at home and overseas, that you can't deny!
But you haven't seen the last of him, for he is forever etched in history,
On the World War Two Monument in DC - how he got there is a mystery!

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

For those a tad younger who may have never heard of Kilroy, go to your search
and type in "Kilroy Was Here" and click the Wikipedia notation and you will learn
more than you ever wanted to know about him!


Details | Epitaph | |

Floating.....

Wish I could have taken better 
Care of my body... 
Wish they could have stopped 
the cancer sooner... 

I'm just a spirit now, 
Floating over my own funeral. 

If I had my way, I'd pick another church. 
At least one that spelled my name right 
On the obituary. 

I wonder if they knew, 
That I truly loved Sonya, 
but married Adele out of convenience. 

Wish I could have told my brother, Kenny 
I forgive him, maybe he wouldnt cry so hard. 
Wish I could tell Aunt May that hat is too big. 
I wonder if Tara knows the deacons 
Are looking up her dress. 

Im just a spirit now, 
Floating over my own funeral. 

I wonder if the choir knows 
How much I really hate that song... 
Hope they know the Pastor's lying. 
I was not that good of a man.. 

That suit is not the one I would have picked. 
My body looks so much smaller, 
and that make-up makes me look too light. 

Im just a spirit now, 
Floating over my own funeral. 
Free from pain, free from it all. 

Wonder if they know, 
In spite of my short time on this earth...
i truly enjoyed it.
I truly loved it all.


Details | Rhyme | |

Granddads Book

In my quiet times I often try,
To remember places I've been.
To recall folk I have passed by,
And sights that I have seen.

There is nothing wrong with my mind,
Sometimes my memory is quite refined.
I think it's filled over many a year,
With so much junk, nothing seems clear.

So, I made up my mind to write it all down,
To recall it all caused me to frown
It started like I was in the dark,
A memory flared, I was in the park.

That day in the park was just the lever,
I found my mind was as good as ever.
Tho' times and places got out of line,
I wrote it all down, now wasn't I clever!

I'm nearly at the end of my story,
A journey I'm glad that I took.
For my grandsons to read in years to come,
I'll call it Granddads Book.

© Dave Timperley 2012.


Details | Rhyme | |

MAMMA ANNA MADE THE BEST BABBA' AL RHUM

Mamma Anna made the best Babba' al Rhum,
you should have seen me how it made me slightly drunk;
and jumping and screaming I danced to the beats of a drum...
then grandma joined in and she sang a classical song!


And the sweet cream was on my lips and cheeks, 
the Babba' al Rhum was delicious and I topped it with chocolate;
everybody began shouting, "It came from Paris,
but we Neapolitans reinvented it by improving its shape and taste!"


Mamma Anna made the best Babba' al Rhum, soaking it in that liqueur much longer;
and Papa' always told me to eat more of it...saying with a suppressing laughter,
"It's a man's dessert, after you eat it, you'll be strong!"
Oh, did he really tell me the truth? No, he was wrong!


It's so very sad that they aren't here,
and I am eating pretzels and drink a beer,
the harmony that stirred their passion can't possibly return...
as they danced on the terrace to celebrate the day I was born!


Mamma Anna knew how to make the best Babba' al Rhum,
and I licked the dripping rum with my finger...not my tongue!
She spoke calmly...when she should have gotten mad and picked up a broom;
no, she was never mean and rude, or ever said to me, " Go to your room!"


Details | Blank verse | |

Love Song

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Camp Anawana (An Ode to 20-somethings’ Nostalgia)

Sometimes I can't believe it
It all happened so fast
Real life is truly here
Just who is that looking at me in the mirror?
How come these bills are addressed to my name?
It's like I went to sleep and woke up
And I'm all grown up

Sometimes I miss the days
When your crush had cooties, not STDs
And afternoons were spent climbing trees
And it's hard to grasp our age
Who's that man calling you "his wife"?
How come that little girl just called you Dad?
It's like I went to sleep and woke up
And we're all grown up

Sometimes the kids today
Make me feel so old when they say
They've never heard of Kurt Cobain
But I know that we're better
Cause we could fix our Nintendo in just one blow
And we all figured this out sans Twitter
It's like I went to sleep and woke up
And I'm all grown up

I remember the stupid things
Pogs and Goosebump books
Playlists were mixtapes on cassettes
And Friday nights meant TGIF on ABC
Nickelodeon was our only obsession
Friend requests were made in person
And they still showed music videos on MTV
It's like I went to sleep and woke up
And it's a different world - Nothing's the same
Cause we're all grown up


Details | Couplet | |

Mother's Wisdom

We nurture them within our bodies, birth them in a blinding pain,
suckle them on breasts so swollen, till we think we’ll go insane.

We kiss away each painful boo-boo, bandage each and every wound,
show them that in spite of roundness, peas can stay upon their spoons.

We intercept their nostril’s flowing, be it green or white as snow,
wiping gently ever hoping, for the day they’d learn to blow.

We give to them each ounce of wisdom, try to teach them everything,
suddenly, for unknown reasons, screw it up and give them wings.

We mourn a bit, those cherished moments, when on us they did depend,
days when we were super heroes, possessing wisdom without end.

We watch the journey proudly knowing, as they soar into the light,
Mother’s wisdom, though not perfect, lends the wind that gives them flight.


Details | Light Poetry | |

FLIRTY DANCING

valse,valet a,highland fling
viola,fiddle,music string;
minuet,pavane rondeau
tripping lightly to & fro.

flirty dancing,fancy free
quick-step and ladies excuse-me;
fox trot and last waltz slow,
holding close,as passions grow.


Details | Free verse | |

Those Were The Days

                                     Rebuilding America 
                                     My little Jenny and me
                                     Remembering a time
                                     When Laurel And Hardy
                                     Brought such classics to T.V
                                     My Jenny asked mom can you see me
                                     Just cruising home in a big jelopy
                                     With my Feathered Friend Buddy
                                     Perched on my shoulder and you Yelling
                                     Smile Your On Candid Camera
                                     That had to be such a Jungle Fever back then
                                     Think  I liked it better When you used to sing to me
                                                 That  I'm A Big Girl Now 
                                     




Just Putzing Around here
with my last 10 poems
But Love to watch 
Old Classic comedies on T.V. with Jenny
And Trying To explain  to her about Cinema
                          
                                     


Details | Quatrain | |

The Child in Me

Soda pop and gum drops
A river full, so sweet
To be that child I once was
All that candy, I would eat

Not worry about a cavity,
the dentist or my skin
Just concerned with getting more
And filling it within

A jawbreaker, some nonpareils
Bazookas and candy dots
Sour apples and baby ruths
Oh I love it all a lot


Details | Verse | |

Ding Dong The Wicked Witch is Dead

Globally, miners jubilantly jump for joy
Smiles on the faces of every girl and boy
The grins of a newly opened Xmas toy
Thatcher’s dead.

Trade unionists bounce along the street
Music blaring and the tapping of feet
From nurses to Bobbies still on the beat
Thatcher’s dead.

Street parties announced in the nation
Satan who brought economic inflation
Is deceased, now’s the time for elation
Thatcher’s dead.

Its times like this I’m sad I’m an atheist
And can only shout and wave my fist
And then go to the pub and get pissed
Thatcher’s dead.


Details | Rhyme | |

Went Fishin'


Submitted to the "Gone Fishin" contest
------------------------------------------------

Trollin’ the islands at Texoma,
It was April, 1964.
New rod and reel in hand,
I’d NEVER been fishing before.

A Garcia 2510T casting rod.
The reel, a Mitchell 301,
Plus hand-selected worms and lures…
I was ready to have some fun.

My teacher, a master fisherman,
Had fished all over the earth...
From trout in Austrian mountain streams
To sea bass just west of Perth.

He showed me all the basics,
Including how to tie a lure.
“No snaps. They’re no good.
Tie’em on…just to be sure.”

He made me practice casting.
“Take aim with your rod’s tip 
Take her back - ten, eleven, twelve, one;
Smoothly return to ten… with just a little flip.”

While I practiced the casting motion,
He said, “Large Mouths will be jumpin’ bugs.
Water’s bubblin’ with Sand Bass spawnin’.
You’ll know the difference if one gives you a tug.”

As we drifted around the islands,
He said, “I think you’re ready.”
So, I picked a lure, a pretty Heddon;
And tied her on.  My hands were steady.

Yellow with black dots and a weed guard. 
A streamer tail and double treble hooks.
Who knew if she would do the job,
But I liked the way she looked.

As I tied her on, I looked around
For a likely place for my first cast.
Magazine pictures always showed weeds
In the background of a striking Bass.

So, I picked a reed bed in the shallows;
Threw my first cast, watched her fly.
What happened next was the stuff of dreams.
We couldn’t believe our eyes. 

About eighteen inches before she lit,
A monstrous Large Mouth erupted from the water.
My teacher screamed, “Holy Mary, Mother of God!  
Kiss O’Reilly’s Ugly Daughter!”

When the Bass broke water, it scared me. 
My whole body jerked and shook.
So sudden, so silent, it seemed like slow motion.
Until I heard him screaming, “Set the hook!  Set the hook!”

When the big Bass scared me,
I must have set the hook.
The tussle was on, long and hard.
This fish didn’t want to be cooked.

My lack of skills prevailed, however,
As I finally reeled him in;
I grabbed him by the lower lip,
Like I’d seen Don Wallace do, time and time again.

“Oh, my God”, he murmured as he weighed the Bass;
“Jeez.  Over thirteen pounds....Thirteen pounds, two.”
He took out his Polaroid and laughed, 
“I’ll take a picture of this fish... holdin' you.”

He snapped the picture of me holding the Bass;
On the back wrote the date, the length and weight.
As he turned to put the camera away……
Get ready.  This is the part that’s great.

I’d watched Don Wallace ‘catch and release’.
He always did that on his show.
“This fish put up a good fight.” he’d say;
“Now it’s time to let him go.”

Yes, as my teacher put away the camera,
I held the big Bass by the lower lip and tail
And ‘swished’ him in the water,
Making sure his gills would not fail.

My teacher turned and saw what I was doing
Just as I let the big Bass go.
This, too, was like slow motion
As I heard him screaming, “NOOOOOOO!”

“Why would you do that, Lad?
Do ya know nothin’ at all?
A fish like that... on your very first cast?
Well...Lad, that fish goes on the wall.”

“Well…he’ll be here next year.” I said with a smile,
“And even bigger, I’ll bet.”
He said, ”You’ll make a fisherman, Lad.
It’s not for the fish that we fish…

but for the great stories we get.” 

I still have that lure…and the rod and reel.
Still in their bags and boxes, just like new.
I thought about selling them on eBay,
But 50 years later, they have sentimental value.

You see…I’ve been invited to go fishin’ several times
By golfin’ buddies and other friends;
But for some reason…I really don’t know why…
I’ve never gone fishin’ again.

They say, “Truth is stranger than fiction.”
And I believe that is a fact.
I hope you enjoyed this bit of truth and,
In the meantime…..”Ya’ll come back!”


Details | Rhyme | |

Cruising the Drag

Sipping cherry limeade, driving in the car parade, 
We're cruising in the Lone Star state
Didn't want a bucket seat; the thing it couldn't beat, 
Was sitting up close to your date
One hand on the wheel of daddy’s Oldsmobile, 
My arm around my brown-eyed girl
Feeling pretty sporty, radio on top forty, 
I was cooler than the Duke of Earl

The lady of the cruise had her penny loafer shoes, 
Her bobby socks were turned down twice
With a little eyeliner, she couldn't be much finer
Too much and it wouldn't be nice
There’d be no wild oats under those petticoats
She’d never go all the way
Just a perfect flip-up 'do and cute look number two
Practiced in the mirror all day

Hear those tires squeal when I make the rubber peel
For the flyboys waiting on the bus
To take them to the base where they don't feel out of place
Not cruising like the rest of us
I was the drag's head honcho as we pulled across the Concho
And we saw the lights along the riverside
We'd had quite a lark at Neff's amusement park
Playing putt-putt and going on a ride

The cheerleader squad rode a killer hot rod
With a spinner on every rim
A perfect tuck and pleat on every single seat 
Courtesy of Wanda's Auto Trim
Candy apple red, it would really knock you dead
It was a drop-top Pontiac
One was there to steer and three were in the rear
Posing up on the back

Those football beauty queens in their skin-tight Levi jeans
Were followed by their biggest fan
Checking out those lasses in his Buddy Holly glasses 
Was the nerdy little Aqua Velva man
In his stainless steel braces he grinned up at their faces
They iced him with a haughty air
He never would forget it; they would later on regret it
When he became a multi-millionaire

A four girl bevy in a big finned Chevy 
Were riding west on Sherwood Way
Four guys right behind in a pick-up state of mind
All ready to make their play
Thought they were the smartest cruising pick-up artists
But those gals were pretty astute
When they stopped and the guys started telling all their lies
The chicks started putting on the cute

We turned the car around and headed back downtown
Cruising down the boulevard 
Stay cool daddio, bear right at El Patio
And take it down Beauregard
There were lots of pleated skirts and those button-down shirts
The flattops were everywhere galore
From a Lincoln Continental, we heard an instrumental
Mister Acker Bilk's “Stranger on the Shore”

We slowly pulled through BJ’s, listening to the deejay’s 
Announcement of the next hit song
Leaning on their doors with their Brylcreem pompadours
Two hoods were playing Mr. Wrong
Completing their disguise, they slouched with narrowed eyes
And did their best at looking mean
With a twist of his pelvis, one was doing Elvis
The other did a fine James Dean

Like a sweet potato vine, the bride of Frankenstein 
Was entwined around the Marlboro man
With the passion of their make out, they should have gotten takeout 
And opted for a bigger floor plan
With her big black beehive hair and his fancy western wear
They were putting on quite an awesome scene
I had to give a chuckle at his huge silver buckle
But those M.L. Leddy boots looked mighty keen

I pulled the Olds on through, and we bid BJ’s adieu
And I put us back onto the street
With those four whitewall tires, we made for McIntire's
To get ourselves a bite to eat
We stopped for some fuel, over near the school
In those days they came right out to you
Best place on Earth, ‘cause with a dollar’s worth
They’d check your oil and clean your window too

The drive-in, painted green, was quite the social scene
With people mingling car to car
Everyone was caring; the drinks they were for sharing
Especially when they were in a mason jar
She ate a big banana split, and then left me for a bit
To comfort an old friend not feeling right
A moment more to linger with that final steak finger
Then I took her home and called that one a night

That was many years ago, but some things you don’t outgrow
And I think back to when I was a teen
When doors were left unlocked, and children safely flocked
Unchaparoned at night on Halloween
And sometimes at night, when the stars are big and bright
And I’m deep in a Texas state of mind
I think of that lass who was in my high school class
And I wonder if she thinks of me in kind

August 10, 2012


Details | Narrative | |

A Quiet Exit

A Quiet Exit


Poetry is disciplined

However, sometimes at the executive table
when a situation is not going according to plans
It's better to excuse yourself because of evil man

however, before leaving, relief a quiet fart
then make the exit,  gracefully glance
 over your  shoulder and smile
watch and observed who sense your present.

Ladies and Gentlemen have a wonderful day!


Details | Narrative | |

I Was There That Day

He saw a speck of yellow
fluttering about in the meadow.
Deciding the sky would still be there
he jumped down from the tree
and felt a whoosh air
escape his tiny lungs.

The boy got a closer look
at what he surely mistook
for a flying fleck of dust.
He leaned his head down low
to see the speck had tiny wings.
And oh what uncensored joy
that bit of knowledge did bring!

It had alternating stripes
of yellow and black.
And though his zany flight course
was difficult to track,
he followed his new found friend, the bee,
with glassy observant eyes.
His untamed joy was plain as day
as he spotted the bee
zoom straight into a hive.

(and oh the buzzing!
that frantic buzzing oh so alive!)

His massive boulder of an eye
peered inside one of the hexagonal holes
He beamed, in high soprano,
the very essence of his childlike soul,

"I see by all this glowing honey
that you, my friend, have been quite busy!
Surely your supply is more than ample,
may I not partake a tiny sample?"

What happened next you need not know
for it all took place so many moons ago.
You could say from that moment on
the boy no longer elicited a joyous song
when catching sight of a bothersome bee.
Perhaps the boy ran from the house,
holding in his arms, his mother's crockery.
Maybe a delightful evening took place
as he drank the golden syrup
for his tongue to taste.

Who's to say for sure?
(If your memory's foggy
just ask the bird.
Surely he could recite the scene
word for word).

All I know is that I was there that day
in that distant memory...

... so very far away.



SURPRISE PD!... a poem you have not read before.


Details | Light Poetry | |

Sunday Dinner with Mama-in-Law

I wouldn't mind sharin'
With Wilda H. Perrin
A fried chicken section
She burnt to perfection

White beans from the navy
Gummy rice with gravy
Green beans smothered down
Until they turn brown

Fussin' and complainin'
"I love you", she's sayin'
By moanin' and bitchin'
And cleaning the kitchen...

*She always forgot to check the chicken, usually setting off the smoke alarm...If 
anyone DARED to rush in and help she would retort, "Who's the cook here 
anyway? Open the damn door!"


Details | Triolet | |

Falling Snow

Outside the snow is falling
The children are sleighing
Sometimes they start snowballing
Outside the snow is falling
“Dinner is served”, their Mom is calling
The children don’t hear what she’s saying
Outside the snow is falling
The children are sleighing!
	


Details | Ballad | |

We Thank You, Pikachu

From our earliest times to the most recent of our days,

We've grown with pokemon, and we've learned their ways,

We've learned the evolutions, the special attacks,

We've learned what pokemon hide in tall grass,

We've learned the weaknesses and the advantages of them all,

We've learned a lot from our friends in a poke-ball,

We've battled hard against Team Rocket, Team Plasma, Team Aqua and Magma,

We've seen the impossible and defeated the improbable,

We've grown in a way that's practically inseparable,

Through the duels, and gym battles galore,

We've learned the companionship of a friend and more,

For this we look through the trees of Veridian forest,

And give thanks to our pokemon friends for enduring this life-long quest,

To be the best, surpass the rest, and grow together as a team,

To have our friends by our side and become the supreme,

For this we tip our hats, to these special pals our ours,

For standing by our side as we travel through towns, voyage the sea, and climb Spirit Tower,

Through thick and thin, we have a friendship no Vine Whip could damage,

And no matter the course, our pokemon seem to manage,

This is why, I suppose we all do, we grow strong with our friends by our side,

Cause no matter the challenge, our dear friends are along for the ride,

So no matter the game; be it blue,red,silver or white,

With pokemon at our side, the adventure is twice as bright.


Details | Crystalline | |

snow flake

summer snowflake...
the ice cream man


Details | Clerihew | |

Don't Tell Bones

Star Trek officer Mr. Spock
simply couldn't find his sock
which he had just overlooked
but don't tell Bones Spock's goose was cooked!


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!