These Memory Funny poems are examples of Funny poems about Memory. These are the best examples of Memory Funny poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
The wind is blowing through my mind
Not gently breezing through.
It ruffles my thoughts and jumbles them
It will take time to file them anew
I like to file my thoughts in order
Of good ones and of bad
Its keeps things on a steady level
And stops one going mad
Happy thoughts are lifted
To the very fore
Memories of when we first met
You were sitting on the floor
The party was a bit of a flop
We left together and walked
And as we got to know each other
We talked and talked and talked
The wind is blowing stronger
The bad times it reminds
We split up for a lifetime
Well it seemed so in our minds
You persevered and asked me out
I decided you were true
My memory of our wedding day
And how happy I was with you
We had a little flat and furnished it with love.
The trouble was we were ground floor
And the water came in from above.
I look back through some memories
All tumbling in the breeze
The hard times the fun and laughter
The winter of the big freeze
We booked a holiday that year
The best time we ever had
I know it scared us half to death because I was so bad.
It’s a pity I missed part of it as to hospital I went
The baby we were having, to be born he seemed hell bent.
The wind is blowing on my head, now I fight with it for real
It’s just ripped off the shed roof, it looks like it’s been peeled
I better shut my memory box and find my hammer and nails
And fight with wind that’s blowing outside and stop my reminiscent gales.
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.
Watch this scene with both eyes and try not to blink C: -->
I stood there... silently
Like a predator near prey
I sneak behind YOU
You weren't even aware of it!! Ha-ha!
I made YOU jump hIgH
Like a startled hare
I chuckle and smile
You know that mischievous smile of mine?
Your reaction was
PRICELESS - you were so upset
But YOU forgave me
Well...I'm flattered. . .
We laugh'd together (just like the good times)
In a chorus - our volume
Picked up extreme sound
Believe me - I could hear our laughter from a mile away!
But I'm glad I did
My best to make you giggle
Wouldn't you agree?
My earliest memory was the Mid-Wife
And her strong , safe forceful grip .
And Dad's big frown
In his surgical gown
Saying "don't let my baby slip .
Lord ! , he's pink and bald and ugly
Hey Mom ! , here's your nine month dream
He's the perfect mix
'Cause he sure knows how to scream " .
They all ooh'd and aah'd and choochy cooed
Saying yeah, he's one in a million
As I looked in bother
And asked , hey mother
So tell me ! , what's a brazilian ? .
Inspired by Danielle White's early memory contest ..
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!”
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
When you’re the mom you carry the purse,
That’s the natural rule of the universe.
To a mom a purse is more than a bag,
It’s a safety net when the world starts to sag.
The pockets hold things that her family might need,
Like a granola bar with sunflower seed.
There’s a half eaten cookie and a clean pair of socks,
And a tool her grandfather gave her to set cuckoo clocks.
There’s a broken dolly in need of repair,
And a bright orange scrunchie to pull back her hair.
There are aspirins and band-aids and a coupon book,
Redeemable for vacations that never got took.
And way at the bottom is a memory of a girl,
Who would dress so young and gaily twirl.
In those days she carried a purse so small,
A dainty little bag hardly anything at all.
As she takes out the memory and starts to go through it,
She breaks out in a grin because there’s a sucker stuck to it.
She remembers what that girl wanted most for her life,
Was to one day be a mom and a good man’s wife.
Each memory she touches she remembers with pleasure,
And each item she carries becomes a small treasure.
That’s why when you’re the mom you carry the purse,
It’s the natural rule of the universe.
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.
it seems like an eternity
since ive seen ur smile
the fact that uve been gone
still has me in deep denial
a lot of stuff has happened
since ur smile left this earth
gatherings, eagles losing, parties
life changes and brooklyns birth
a lot of people miss u greatly
n think about u everyday
our last picture together
on my dresser it will stay
ur deep voice, ur humor, ur kindness
is what i tend to miss the most
ur passing forever broke my heart
but our memories i hold close
i must admit, i did hit rock bottom
drugs n alcohol i used to cope
i took ur passing very hard
i started to give up hope
but i looked into brooklyns eyes
n caught a glimpse of u
u probably would have kicked my ass
sober now i stay true
mom also met a fine fella
u actually would approve
no need to kick this guys ass
hes good to her n the kids to
madison is so smart n beautiful
byron is turning into a handsome man
there both striving so well
u should be a very proud dad
two of ur friends got engaged
there so cute n its exciting news
i hope they live a life of happiness
i know u would feel the same to
ur brother misses u the most
hes coping the best he can
he misses u as much as i do
he was ur biggest fan
ur neighbors n friends
also stop by ur page
reminiscing about the good times
the laughter n good chatter ud engage
thank-god for all the music
its a good way to deal with pain in life
cause without u here with us
its like eating steak without a knife
im over trying to understand
i feel ur in a happier place
you had ur own reasons
your demons u finally faced
but in a couple days
ur birthday we will celebrate
the big thirty seven u turn
teasing u old man woulda been great
your always in our hearts
in our thoughts forever jay
so while ur up in heaven...
smile...cause its ur birthday :)
The fondest memory of a young boy’s drive,
Are those things reminding us we are alive,
As when those physics of natural fortitude,
Rise up to the occasion and start to protrude.
Seemingly the notion is quite uncontrollable,
The mind that takes over is quite consolable,
`T was Love gave us the procreating urge,
Assumption is such, why should we not spurge?
As was this friend of mine who’s name was Berg,
With every young lady he saw, wanted to spurge,
He did saddled himself with three kids and a wife,
Which is fine if mature ,but if not ruins one’s life.
Another fond memory of a young boy alive,
Is all those hot rod cars that he use to drive,
One of my dearest friends lost his life, where and when?
High school graduation on Bayou creek bend.
A four in the floor and a fifth under the seat,
Young boys feel like such a feat is quite neat,
Driving while drunk chancy rich price to pay,
Same as being too young when one hit’s the hay!
This story has no glory, though all parts are true,
Parents seriously need to teach children good pursue,
Apple of God’s eye, tooth for tooth, an eye for an eye,
We have not mercy, when it is judgments we cry!
For Contest: Fondest Memory
In Honor of: Frank Herrera