Submit Your Poems
Get Your Premium Membership

CreationEarth Nature Photos

Funny People Poems | Funny Poems About People

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

If you don't find the poem you want here, try our incredible, super duper, all-knowing, advanced poem search engine.

Details | Narrative | |

Granny Panty Annie, the Tranny

Lemme tell ya' about a
*ding-bat skit-zo 
bee-hotch* tranny
named Annie...

I met her one night 
under disco lights 
up at Candies

She was 
starin' at me
grittin' her teeth
aimin' ta' see 
if I wanted a piece
of he 
of she 
by way of flashin' granny panties

She was
shootin' pool
actin' a fool
so I 
took a shot
and one tiny glance 
but got caught

So I
lit up a smoke
and tried to play it off cool
but it was too late
she had pulled up a stool

She slurred,
"Hey young felluh, where ya' been all my life!"

I replied, 
"Sorry to burst yir' bubble, but I got a wife!"

"That don't matter kid, what she don't know won't hurt the girl" 
as she fisted my collar and yelled, "I'LL ROCK YIR' WORLD! Annie the Tranny is what they call me. Bet you been wanted ta' bone me since you first saw me!"

Fear and frustration danced on my face
I begged the bouncer to 
"Get this he/she outta the place!"

My pleas were to no avail, 
and that sea donkey lurked hot on my trail
flailin' it's arms and grindin' bar stools with it's tail

Speakin' of tails...
a shiny blue wale tail crept up her back
Her jeans were mean, but couldn't hold her underwear's elastic slack
but at least it beat feastin' eyes upon her crack
then she... 
wrapped her grimy hands around my neck and asked, 
"You n' me, boy, what the heck!?!"

I screamed,
"Look here lady, you seem real nice for a tranny;
ya' see...
ya' need 
to hit the bricks,
and yir' Granny Panties!"

At that point the joint started to really heat up
people were glarin' like they really wanted me beat up
I can't recall how the hell I got out of there 
alive and free
it was like a big manly freight train
headin' dead at me

I'm pretty sure I owe the good Lord a big favor
that beast was the devil
and Jesus was my Savior!

It's a night I thought would never end... 
the night at Candies Bar n' Grill
Granny Panty Annie got a thrill 
tryin' to make me her sexy friend!!!

Copyright © JSLambert Mister ROBOTO

Details | Prose Poetry | |


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

Copyright © Drake Eszes

Details | Limerick | |

Viagra Falls

There once was a man from Niagara
whose wiener's so long it would stab ya'

but when it got little 
his pills became skittles   
until he O.D.'d on Viagra

© ~JSLambert  2011*****A classic "stiff" competitor, standing "firm" amongst other "members" in the "thick" of the competition:) hope everyone gets "a rise" out of it!

Copyright © JSLambert Mister ROBOTO

Details | Quatrain | |

Trochee--A Penny Saved Is a Penny Earned

Rosie loves to find a deal ! She will browse around Bargain basements have appeal, shopping underground ! Nosy people tend to say how she wastes her time! Satisfaction, comes her way If she saves a dime ! ~ 4/7/15 For Trochee Contest: Sponsored by Andrea Dietrich

Copyright © Carrie Richards

Details | Limerick | |

A Pleased Porridge, NOT

When Einstein signed up for cooking school
He made a mistake, against the rules
He dribbled "OLD SPICE"
to season the rice
Not nice to nibble, but fragrant gruel !!

"Anyone who has never made a mistake has never tried anything new."
 - Albert Einstein

4/20/15 For The Contest: Famous Einstein Quotes
Sponsored by John Freeman

Copyright © Carrie Richards

Details | Limerick | |

Out Pops - a collab with Olive Eloisa Guillermo

Two poets who couldn't agree Raise their voices to their loud pleas One wasn't able to stop His zip open, out pops! Haha, it's a pea, not the size of a tree ©J. A. Fraser and O. E. Guillermo 15.18pm, April 07, 2015

Copyright © James Fraser

Details | I do not know? | |

My Declaration of War on Self-Imposed Stupidity...WHO'S COMING WITH ME?!

All this hyped up glam and glitz
  giggly girls break down in fits
    these mascara clad boys devoid of wits
The shallower they go,  the deeper it gets
Sillouettes lacking inner angles and lines...
 The substance goes absent when the light shines...
Plotless drama without direction, still winds
 These tragically bad fads spread like vines

Overrun with Reality shows depicting what's REAL
  A mass zombie audience digesting their meal
Not In, but outside, this box they soften like veal
  Staring at a screen that numbs how they feel

When did the war on intelligence start?
  Losers not knowing that losing's not smart...
Cable providers gladly doing their part
  News channels selling half-truth ala carte

I will be a rebel and fight for your mind
 Hiding remote-controls where they won't find
Trading entertainment for knowledge in kind
  Giving books out to the voluntarily blind

It's gonna be a BATTLE!!!  WHO'S COMING WITH ME??!!

Copyright © Steve Voorhees

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


Copyright © MoonBee Canady

Details | I do not know? | |

Writtings From The Bathroom Wall

I read it  from the bathroom wall.
God alone save's us one and all.
Along with other mixed obscenities like 
for a good time call.

Some read rise against.
Others read Elivis was here.
God bless America communist take fear.

Its the lost and found of  misspelled words 
were the misfits gather do they all.
Im stuck here in a inconvertible position reading writtings from 
bathroom wall.

I strain to read Robert and Beth forever.
whomever they are.
I question does this bathroom last through stormy weather.

I wonder what kind of philosopher finds solice in such a dingy 
Do they comb the wall just lookin for space.

Theres traces of blood from a drunken brawl.
Im sitting in the true melting pot of the world.
Reading writtings from  the bathroom wall.  

Copyright © John Patrick Robbins AKA Gonzo

Details | Concrete | |

If Children Were Puppies

                                                IF MY
                                         WERE PUPPIES
                                            THEY’D BE
                                THEY WOULD NOT BE FUSSY
                        AND            TALK BACK YOU            SEE.                       
                       SIT             BRAVE AND LOYAL           NOT                        
                       TRY             TO RUN AND HIDE.           AND
                                        FAITHFULLY  FOLLOW
                                           NEVER LEAVING
                                            MY SIDE. BUT
                                            IF CHILDREN
                                             WERE PUPS
                                              THEN THEY
                                              MIGHT EAT
                                             LIKE    HOGS
                                            CHEW    YOUR 
                                          GOOD        SHOE   
                                 MAYBE HIDE         YOUR CLOGS

Written by Brenda Meier-Hans

Copyright © Brenda Meier-Hans

Details | Narrative | |

- To All Four-legged AND Two-legged -

Hello to all four-legged and two-legged friends in the big world
The people who take care of us, do not know as much as they think
We are probably smarter than they are
Take for example, that little cell phone that our people
always have with them wherever they go
What we do.....lift the foot and "send a message" to a friend
When I am out and walking with my people I get many interesting "messages"
Some "messages" are very interesting and take a little longer time to "read"
Then my people impatient, pulling and struggling the leash
What they can not understand that I must "answer" to all "messages"
Our "conversations" and "messages" are equally important
Think about it....they are also free....there is no expense
When their cell phone call or pling they take time to respond
Hello all two-legged humans our messages are just as important as yours

A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved

Copyright © Anne Lise Andresen

Details | Rhyme | |

Call Me Insensitive

You call me insensitive,
But I don't believe that's true;
Because, you see,
It's all about me.
It's not about you.

You say your opinion doesn’t matter,
That I’ve no respect for your point of view;
But I do if we agree,
Because it’s all about me.
It’s not about you.

You say I’ve no compassion,
No feelings for your troubles or your blues;
But none of us is issue free,
And mine are all about me;
But…not about you.

A time old adage, 
“To thine own self be true.”,
Is all about choices you see.
My choices are all about me,
And, certainly, not about you.

So, when free or forced to make your choices
You’ll understand and know it’s true 
To decide what will or will not be,
Won’t be at all about me;
It will be all about you

But special moments confront each of us,
When what matters isn’t “Me”.
And while these moments are few,
They’re not about me, not about you.
For a time, it’s all about “We.”

Yes, “…no man is an island.”
Is a valid point of view;
But if it’s not about “We”, 
Then it’s all about me.
Sorry.  It’s not about you.

Copyright © Robert Candler

Details | Than-Bauk | |

Juicy Kaboosey

her derriere in the air high eyes wearing out
Than-Bauk written for Rick Parise's contest

Copyright © JSLambert Mister ROBOTO

Details | Rhyme | |


Many years ago, when we were all young,
We really thought life, would be so much fun.
While playing dress-up, trying on mom’s stuff,
Putting on make-up, we found to be tough.

Then came our schooling, and boy things would change,
“Those aren’t our parents”, when they acted strange.
Sometimes they were hip, but old-fashioned too,
That’s something I swore, I would never do.

Wishing you were older, adults had it made,
They would do nothing, yet still would be paid.
That is how little, we all had known,
We surely found out, once we were grown.

Loving the twenties, we’d go out with friends,
When we went shopping, we followed the trends.
Doing what we wanted, and staying out late,
It didn’t matter, what time we all ate.

Then came the thirties, and most of us wed,
Watch what you wish for, my parents had said.
We had to work hard, many bills to pay,
I guess they were right, what more can I say?

Raising your children, was hardest of all,
Needing some advice, your parent’s you’d call.
It seemed so easy, they needed no rest,
So now it’s your turn, you learned from the best.

The forties arrived, that was a shocker,
We’d spend lots of time, just at the doctor.
Back aches and headaches, so tired you’d be,
Trying not to cough, or else you would pee.

The fifties would come, and your grandkids too,
Where were your glasses? You hadn’t a clue.
You searched here and there, and under the bed,
“Hey grandma” they laughed, “They’re right on your head”.

Here come the sixties, now let’s have some fun,
You are retired; your work is all done.
To dinner with friends, you dressed and you wait,
They never show up, you have the wrong date.

Now the seventies, with friends playing games,
If only you could, remember their names.
You try hard to hide, those under-eye bags,
Gravity happens, and everything sags.

Enjoy every day, and have a good laugh,
All the steps you took, led down a new path.
Live life as it comes, each year a new page,
One thing is for sure, everyone will age.

Copyright © Kelly Zakerski

Details | Sonnet | |

Happy Birthday Jenny (Kyrielle Sonnet)

Happy birthday to you Jenny
Hope your big day brings you plenty
Keep a bright smile all the way
Your mom sings your praises today

Soon you will be driving to school
Don’t forget to follow the rules
Enjoy your day with a buffet
Your mom sings your praises today

Happy birthday to you Jenny
Don’t forget to save your pennies
Wish on a star on your great day
Your mom sings your praises today

Happy birthday to you Jenny
Your mom sings your praises today

© Joseph, 8/20/2007
© All Rights Reserved

This is for the the daughter of our own poetess, Kathy.

The Kyrielle Sonnet is a French form from the Middle Ages. It has 14 lines (three 
rhyming quatrains and a non-rhyming couplet). It has a repeating line or phrase 
as a refrain in the last line of each stanza.  Each line within the Kyrielle Sonnet 
has eight syllables.  There are times when a French poem links back to the 
poem’s beginning; therefore, a common practice is to combine the first line of 
the first quatrain and the refrain in each quatrain as the ending couplet for the 

Copyright © Joseph Spence Sr

Details | Light Poetry | |


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

Copyright © kelechi Emeaba

Details | Free verse | |

English Language - 1 - Repost

                                   I failed English in High School
                                  Could not understand the writing rule 
                            If I say, when it reigns it pores, people agree
              Yet when I write the same phrase people say what’s wrong with me  

             I before E (accept) after C less it sounds like an a as in neighbor or weigh
                               Where do the words foreign and sovereign (steigh)
             Do they stay with a goose among geese or with a moose among (meese)
             Do they live in a house with a scavenger mouse or something much bigger
                             Is there several (hice) with several scavenger mice

Copyright © HGarvey Daniel Esquire

Details | Limerick | |

A Big Sneeze

There was a young lady called Mae West
Who was famed for the size of her chest
She came down with Flu
Gave a big sneeze 'Atchoo'
And that was the end of her vest

Copyright © Nick Bagnall

Details | Ode | |

Ode to Trevor

We'd really like to thank you
i'm sure you left it here with love,
it really was so kind of you
but we didn't want your bug.

We thought you'd like to know
we really felt the pits
we thought of you quite often
when we had the squits.

Next time you come to visit
please leave your bugs at home,
'cause, when you bring them with you
they sure do like to roam.

So next time that we see you
I hope you come alone,
you can bring Rosie and Katie
but leave your bugs at home.

Copyright © jacque lee

Details | Rhyme | |

Adam And Eve And The Fig Leaves

Here's something I have been wondering
For so very long
If Adam and Eve wore only figs leaves
How did they keep them on

It couldn't have been a rubber band
And certainly not super glue
I just really have no idea
Do you have a clue

What did they do in the winter
When fig trees are bare
One leaf wouldn't last all year
I think there's a mystery there 

If only Eve hadn't eaten that apple
If only Adam hadn't taken a bite
I wouldn't be trying to solve this
And I'd sleep better at night

Copyright © Vernette Hutcherson

Details | Clerihew | |


Sir Isaac Newton
didn't think gravity was fun,
when at the tree he did slump,
from an apple that caused a lump.

For "You who....Yo, Clerihew" contest sponsored by Catie Lindsey.

Copyright © George Aul

Details | Sonnet | |


I am looking right at you and you don’t even know it.
I will deter your intent and throw you off a steep cliff.
But in the air will be my snuff and gruff you can sniff.
Eventually I will have some sort of mercy of just a bit.

Surely we are above empowering manners of tat for tit. 
Maybe I’ll light a scented candle and blow you my whiff.
Or maybe I will strand you grounding your bones to stiff.
Opposed or decomposed and still composed I won’t quit.

Upside down,
Inside or out,
I’ll throw down.
I am the clout.

Don’t mistake my identity,
Either or, it’s your eternity.

® Registered: Ann Rich   2009

Copyright © Ann Rich

Details | Narrative | |

Call Me Gonzo

For thoose of you who may not know.
Just call me gonzo I write the absurd for life is insane and sometimes 
it takes a madman to speak the truth so very clear.

I write for the broken vacant faces that have lost all hope.
To the dreamer who's well is slowley running dry from everyone
telling him to stop wasting his time.

I write like a endless highway fueled by whiskey and wild women 
every adventure leads to pain but life is pain and i love in spite of it.

I thirst for every unseen mile the desert my brother it's people dwell
in the spirt of the west the opium parlors and brothels spirt still linger.
I write with a hint of danger and a promise of disaster.

Im a blues player whos trying to out run the devil.
Im a outlaw riding to cross the border a woman looking to the 
empty range for my return.

I write because I breath in a world were the creative air has gone 
The bottle sits apon table and I welcome any strangers company
I just rather that stranger be a warm woman instead of a 
unfriendly amigo who is a little jelouse.

Write to be more than just part of the highways landscape.
Some may call me crude crazy insane some even vulgar and 
liar and thief.
But aside from thoose compliments.
No matter what you may call me.
Dont ever forget to just call me gonzo.

Copyright © DR Robert Gonzo

Details | Limerick | |


There's a gal named PamelaKaye
Her writing style, poetic buffet
A sweet Texas tart
Who has a big heart
And a buttocks the size of Bombay

Copyright © Dawn Drickman

Details | Rhyme | |

Ethel's Remedies

Her name was Ethel....(yes, like the gasoline)
She smelled of menthol...(much like Vick's Vaseline)
A long time neighbor, from down the lane
She was married twice...(or was it thrice?)...
A widowed lady, we knew her well

A bit disgruntled, and a bit dismantled
A bit unusual.....a bit disturbed
and most the time, seemed quite perturbed!!
And as a kid....of her, I feared!

So scared of her that when she came  .....Holy Moly, off I'd run!
And hide away..........'til she was gone!

She was a mix of ice.....a tad of nice....
But my mother trusted her sage advice
She had a cure for most everything....some seemed rather sensible
Some quite extreme!!!

The worst indeed..............(Please excuse my dilemma!)
She believed in the (OMG!!)   THE ENEMA!!
( you can see .....just why I hid!!)
And castor disgusting!!
Should only be used when parts are rusting!!!!!!

And an old rag wrapped and rubbed on your wart
Then into a hole.....dug out by the fort....
Yep!!  Now, why would a dishrag buried in the yard
Could have such power to rid.................................A WART??

Ridiculous notions....all of her potions......but...
Golly, Gee Whiz!    , I'll have to say...
That I've been wart free.........since buried rag days!!
Oh, Miss Ethel..............perhaps you were weird....
but you would fix a mother's fears...
Could you still fix-up all my own....
all of my fears....after all these years?
Just NO MORE ENEMAS!!! Please Miss Ethel..... 
                             Oh !! my dear !!

Copyright © Carrie Richards

Details | Rondeau Redouble | |

Soul Food

Bagels and baguettes
Bap or fried bake,
The fruits of the flour
are easy to make

Chollah, chapatti  
Cinnamon bun
These global delights
make eating such fun

Filled with Caribbean sweet meat
like Guava jam,
Scottish smoked salmon; 
Or Danish roast ham

Add a fresh fruit salad,
 some sparkling wine
A candle, red roses and  
you’re ready to dine.

Copyright © jo davis

Details | Rhyme | |

Ms. Purple (for my niece, Johnette Loefgren)

Now ain't I just the cutest purple spider
You have ever seen
And don't you just LLOOOVEEE
My web of iridescent green

I made it  today for a special group
You, and your friends from PoetrySoup
So, bring the gang on over to the Poetry Cafe
Just come as you are,you all know the way

There's never a cover charge
And the dance band is free
Of course, I wouldn't mind
If you brought a lil treat for me

A tasty fly to nibble on
Would suit me just fine
But remember, I have to be in bed
A little after nine

With twenty three little ones
To care for all alone
By nine I'm really tired
And weary to the bone

But, you and the gang
Are welcome to stay
And party hearty
'Til the break of day

Just lock the doors on your way out
And leave a tip for the band
It was nice to see you all
So come back as soon as you can

Copyright © Vernette Hutcherson

Details | Limerick | |


There once was a hunter named Frawley
Who lived in a shack, outside Raleigh.
His dog, funny but true,
Would only hunt honeydew.
The dog was a true melon collie.                                               

Copyright © William Robinson

Details | Rhyme | |

Shameful Morning

not sure how she got here 
only know she needs to leave

underneath the stranger 
my arm numb; asleep, 
mouth a desert.
a hundred dead cigarettes dance my tongue dry 

princess of night 
exposed by light. 
get me out of this;
another dreaded morning mess. 

bed broken
along with my will. 
I swore never again; 
the lie is half the thrill.


Copyright © JSLambert Mister ROBOTO

Details | Rhyme | |


I s’pose you've heard of Tamworth and the shindig there each year, 
where country music reigns supreme and all its stars appear.  
They’re in the pubs and all the clubs and arcades 'round the town      
and Peel Street is just full of pics all strumming up and down. 
In years of late another breed of artists have appeared; 
Bush Poets with their rhyming verse, who are now quite revered. 
The Longyard and Imperial pubs and Leagues Club host a few, 
while golf and bowls clubs house more mobs and Peel street has them too.  
It happens that I'm one of them and have for six straight years 
performed to folk my style of verse -  The Laughter and the Tears. 
You make them cry, you make them laugh, you keep your tales true blue, 
for that is what the folk demand:  be Aussie through and through. 
Most folk they see us poets as the ocker type of bloke 
and know we see line dancing as some kind of flamin' joke.  
They stream to Tamworth each year and stretch out along Peel street. 
These hordes of blokes and sheilas with their fancy prancin' feet. 
They’re shapes and sizes are diverese, no two frames look the same, 
with fancy shirts embroidered with the place from hence they came.   
They tuck their thumbs behind their belts then line up in a row 
and when the music kicks on in they boot scoot to and fro. 
Each year they have this ritual, that really is a bore; 
They try to break the record they procured the year before. 
Like locusts they assemble and I watch them with disdain 
'cause surely they've got Buckley's chance of doing it again. 

Copyright © Merv Webster