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Funny Woman Poems | Funny Poems About Woman

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

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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 
stale.
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.


Details | Rhyme | |

herKidster, Billy Breaks Up With PD

herKidster, Billy is breaking up with PD.
Things were going very well until PD
made it clear to herKidster that PD is a she.
Now PD has an unfair advantage on me.
If I get too rough PD crys like a big cry baby,
"That was over the line Kidster. You really hurt me,"
then theKidster falls apart feeling very guilty.
I would never hurt a woman intentionally.
Well, it's been fun my little poet destroyer PD.
You should have never revealed that you were a woman to me,
but we can always continue to be friends, there's just one down side you see,
now all of your followers that I gave to you are all gonna flock back to me.
Now PD's gonna lose all of PD's popularity.
Goodbye my little poet destroyer PD.
Forever yourKidster, Wild Billy


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 | Limerick | |

The Chocolate

The Chocolate!

She is a deliciously smart gal,
For each and everyone's her pal.
Be it in the brownie or cake,
Or the icy cold milk shake.
She sure can change everyone's morale!


Details | Rhyme | |

She Done Me Wrong

Every time I turn the radio on I hear a feller's plaintive song,
About his achin' heart and how his woman done him wrong!
How they once held each other close beneath the harvest moon;
Now, he sits alone caressin' a beer at Cudahey's Diner and Saloon!

He found his woman hangin' out in honky-tonks at the edge of town,
Consortin' with the local rabble tossin' whiskey sours down!
Never mind that she caught him with Hildebrun at Clyde's Greasy Spoon!
Now, he sits alone caressin' a beer at Cudahey's Diner and Saloon!

His woman tells him to stop his gamblin' at the Pot O' Gold Casino,
And if he doesn't stop and toe the line, she's headin' for a split in Reno!
He wonders where his charm has gone that once made her swoon.
Now, he sits alone caressin' a beer at Cudahey's Diner and Saloon!

He feels a pang of guilt for not providin' the kids with decent shoes,
And blowin' the grocery money on the horses, cigarettes and booze!
But can't a feller have a little fun without her ragin' like a typhoon?
Now, he sits alone caressin' a beer at Cudahey's Diner and Saloon!

He stops at Cudahey's after work and drinks until they douse the light.
He cries on Bubba the barkeep's shoulder unloadin' on him every night.
He feels as if his woman thrust through his heart a very sharp harpoon!
Now, he sits alone caressin' a beer at Cudahey's Diner and Saloon!

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

Placed No. 3 in Paula Swanson's "Play Me A Cheatin' Song" Contest - May 2011


Details | Ballade | |

Johnny Depp Wrapped in Chocolate Would Be Heaven Sent

~~Johnny Depp Wrapped in ChocolateThat Would Be Heaven Sent~~ Bonjour môn amies a ballade to write, will be my fait accompli The trials of a woman to bring love - in a village that did not play. An alluring female chocolatier opens a choclaterie-e Hated by the Mayor she wished her plans she never did lay Ooh la la !! Her dress was racy - but still they began to pay Johnny Depp was her gypsy lover when on the river they went But she had to win the love of others to fulfil plans, come what may Johnny Depp wrapped in chocolate - that would be heaven sent. A village so French - a so called femme fatal-e She determined to change there outlook and stay Viva la difference, but one by one she turned them to see Her chocolate treats did melt in mouth - in secret they did say C’est manifique - they whispered with authority Her sweets bites bought together those she thought were meant Even though some tried to block her treats others made a silent plea Johnny Depp wrapped in chocolate – that would be heaven sent. To church the lady never went an illegitimate child the Mayor did see But slowly the French ladies turned to love this alluring woman and say Her chocolate they thought magical- her raison d’etre it must be Her tête-à-têtes were to open hearts, and bring peace and love to stay Reconciliations made in her chocolate shop - their thoughts began to sway But no chocolates were they to eat, and the reason - it was lent… But those that did dare to try - found on their tongues it did dance and play But Johnny Depp wrapped in chocolate - that would be heaven sent. Prince Depp my piece-de-resistance, is there for all to see My joie de vivre if I had been there, even though it may be lent I would have paid money just to see… Johnny Depp wrapped in chocolate - that would be heaven sent. ©
For the Un Deux Trois contest....well at least I tried ha ha


Details | Lyric | |

Viagra and Beer

Too much Viagra and beer.
Too much Viagra and beer.
My wife was out of town,
I hit every club around.
Each time I'd hope to find
A horny woman here.

Country Bob's was the last club that was open.
Near blind drunk and horny, but I was still hopin'.
A pretty woman gave me a glance,
Smiled and said, "Nice pants.
Honey, I'm ridin' if you're ropin'."

A few hours later, I was in a Helluva mess
She's still ridin' hard and screamin', "God, this is the best!"
I was dizzy and light-headed. I had pains in my chest,
But she wouldn't stop long enough to call EMS.

When I came to, I was home in my own bed,
Next to my lovely wife; and this is what she said:
"I picked you up at Country Bob's, my dear;
And there's gonna be some changes around here.

You were fantastic last night;
So, I only think its right
If I supplement your diet 
With Viagra and beer."

Viagra and beer. Viagra and beer.
She treats me like a king,
Says I make her body sing;
So, I'm happy on my diet of Viagra and beer.

Yes, I'm happy on my diet of Viagra and beer.


Submitted by: Buzz O'Words
Written: 3/3/14


Details | Rhyme | |

Thank You

 I am strong because of you,
vulnerable no more.
I had to grow a backbone
when you walked out the door.

I am no longer needy
like the woman you left behind.
I've learned to stand on my own two feet
and I now know my own mind.

Independant and self-aware
I am now, because of you.
So I thank you for all you did
when you told me we were through.

I wouldn't be that woman again
if you offered me a million bucks
and as for you and your life now,
well I really don't give two... figs.


Details | Couplet | |

Hide and Seek

Cat and Mouse: hide and seek
This could take an hour or week

No one wants to seem too bold
So we put our love on hold

A peek here and a peek there
Wondering if we really dare

Wondering what the seconds bring
Wondering if the phone will ring

Wondering, wondering:  peek a boo
You’re hiding…. but I SEE you

I see past that great big wall
Your heart’s ready for the fall

I know that you caught the bait
But I sit and wait and wait

I’m patient, got time of day
But oh, what if you get away!

Cat and mouse: hide and seek
Oh, my knees are getting weak

Oh, this heart’s sure to explode
The waiting’s gone to overload

One more second's just too much
No time for cat games and such

Hide and seek…is getting old
Here I am! My love is bold!

Ready? You'll be caught real tight!
Cause boy, your just out of sight!

Eileen Manassian Ghali


Details | Rhyme | |

Golfing Diva

Crookhill ladies  take the tee
On their very first “girly” golfing spree
To High Street stores they wave goodbye
Preferring sun-baked Spanish skies ,
Aperitifs in long, cool glasses
Served by waiters with tiny asses
 
No tears were shed, all eyes were dry
As they boarded EASY JET 109
On route for the infamous, Alicante
Where  golfing  convention rules out “hankey-pankey”
Aperitifs in long, cool glasses
Served by waiters with black silky ‘tashes
 
Pretty conservative as you’d expect
These would be,  competition golfettes
All that is, except for Sheila
A real little animated golfing diva
She’ll sip the aperitifs in long cool glasses
More likely to kick than kiss their assets
 
All thoughts of home are driven away
Anticipating the games they’d play
Of practice, putts  and competition
With dreams of victory a firm conviction
They sip the aperitifs in long cool glasses
While thoughts may turn to the young Señors' assets
 
Balmy nights they came and went
Their passion for golf now almost spent
Except for our Sheila - golfing diva
Lifting the trophy, a mega achievement
Sips champagne till way past dawn
Her entourage, she can’t recall
Coincidence?, I really can’t say
But those Spanish Señors look content today


Details | Rhyme | |

Mona Lisa

Mona Lisa has worn that mystical smile on her mug for over 500 years!
Who is this mysterious lady who at us from The Louvre benignly peers?
She had to sit for over four years for the artist to capture that simple pose.
Who she is and what's behind that smile, only Leonardo DaVinci knows!

She ain't the most beautiful woman to come down the pike but what the heck.
Since her genesis in 1503 she wasn't treated all that well during her dicey trek!
She's been mutilated, stolen a time or two and graced Napoleon's sleeping place.
All the while she's borne it with grace with that inane smile upon her face!

Some have said that she's the widowed Duchess of Milan, Isabella of Aragon.
Others have sworn that she's Mona Lisa Gherardini and so it goes on and on!
Signore DaVinci left no specific clues as to the name of this mysterious dame!
Through the centuries men have scratched their skulls trying to seek her name!

Was that frozen smile upon her face to hide teeth that were crooked and stained?
Or was her pose such that her posterior and sacroiliac were slightly strained?
Perhaps her compressed smile implied to Leonardo, "Hurry up and git 'er done!
You're payin' minimum wage and fella, posin' fer posterity ain't all that fun!"

Now hung upon the wall of The Louvre she's worth millions and millions of bucks.
Not bad for an unknown woman from who knows where, but here's the crux:
That beatific smile upon the homely face of Mona Lisa that Leonardo created,
And what she's smiling for will always be debated and pondered unabated!

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

Tied for 3d Place in Carolyn Devonshire's "Unsolved Mysteries" Contest - Jul 2011


Details | Kimo | |

Bikini

Laura would look great in a bikini
but she lives in Alaska
so it will not happen.


Details | Rhyme | |

TO BE OR NOT TO BE

Would I be a man if I had the chance,
To grow hair in strange places and jump up and dance,
Whenever a touchdown is made for my team,
Or a goal scored in Hockey and jump up and scream,
And scare the bejiggers out of my mate,
Even though she is trying real hard to relate,
And understand my excitement when we make first down,
And show she's enthused and tries not to frown?

Would I want to do chest bumps and yell like a monkey,
And scratch, fart and belch and think it's real funny;
Come home from work and sit down on the couch,
Pick up the remote and go into a slouch;

Or should I be satisfied just as I am;
For from the beginning it was God's plan,
To take sugar and spice and things to entice,
And create a woman so things woud be nice;
For He first made the man but he wasn't complete,
So He gave him a woman so the poor guy could eat;
For without us the guys just don`t stand a chance,
Unless I`m here to help him mine can`t find his pants.




(The real question is do you want to be the man in charge or the woman who really knows what`s going on)

For How Would I Change My Life Contest by Frank Herrera


Details | Narrative | |

The Turkey's Revenge

“Oh my, the weather out is real nice!” Said the Papa Turkey.
“Hey Mrs. Gobbler get the kids. Lets go for a nice Fall stroll.”
“Line up now. Listen to your Ma.”
The rafter of little poults wobbles by like Russian stacking dolls.
The gaggle gobble around the apple orchard,
pecking at fallen bruised apples and protruding worms.

Smoke comes from the farmhouse. A woman is hanging clothes on the line.
The farmer emerges from the woodshed carrying an ax.

“Hey Papa," said Mrs. Gobbler "look at the ole coot all bare-chested."
You have a better pair of breasts than he does!” 

The Farmer's pace quickens, as he nears Mrs. Gobbler.
She flies laughing onto a branch an apple tree
which overhangs the duck pond. The kids scatter. 
Papa does a running take off from the dirt path landing on the Farmer’s bare chest,
pushing him and his ax into the pond. Mrs. bombs the Farmer with dangling apples.
The kids pick up acorns and pelt the farmer in the head with them. There he sits surrounded 
by bobbing apples and flaoting acorns, spewing water and wiping the hair from his eyes.
“My, my, my” says Papa Turkey.
“Sure does look like a tasty Farmer stew! Too bad we don’t have acorn biscuits.”

The woman drops her laundry basket and falls on the ground laughing.
“You Ole fool!” She says. 
“You better try the chickens! This year the turkeys have your number!”
“But watch out for flying eggs! No yolking!”


Details | Quatrain | |

Tubby Girl Remembers the Glory Days of YORE

I used to sashay into a room
And see all the guys just stare
Now when I waddle in a room
I get cuddled like a bear

I reveled in the very fact 
That I was just sizzling hot
Now I feel rather lukewarm
Marilyn Monroe I am NOT!

I used to have a tiny waist
That accentuated my breast
Now there are lots of tiny rolls
That go right up to my chest

People like to touch my arms
They remind them of a pillow
And when I walk, do watch out!
My bum does jiggle like jello

Although now I am not streamlined
Unlike Angelina Jolie
I’m still happy with who I am
Cause there’s beauty inside of me

I don’t think that a woman’s meant
To be merely some skin and bones
But rather curvaciously soft
Or her pokiness will bring groans

And yet I confess to moments
When I wish I could turn back time
I want to be drop dead gorgeous
Not skinny… but full and sublime

Well, this lament is getting lame
So I'll start the exercise craze
I still want to make men go weak
So they’ll stare at me in a daze!

But Belly Dancing won’t be fun
There just won’t be enough to shake
So maybe I’ll just stay this way
And be good...for heaven’s sake!

Eileen Manassian Ghali


Details | Rhyme | |

A Woman's Wrath

During the dark dreary cold winter weather
There're times of sunshine and warm rather,
So also the moods of a woman you can't trust
Soft as snowflakes at times or cold hard crust.

Hotter than fire or colder than ice,
Happy or sad - Oh, you'll pay the price,
Placid or provoked, she carries a punch
Making the best of us a sore-looking bunch.

Never step out into this raging storm,
Crawl under the covers and stay warm,
Let the wailing winds pass you by,
Stay put until you see a clear blue sky!

You may censure me, you can ostracize;
Oh, do review thy lady ere you patronize -
Thus I forewarn the brethren of my ilk,
Fall not for fair face and skin soft as silk!


Abdul Malik
"Fire and Ice" Contest


Details | Rhyme | |

On the Bench

On the bench and eating lunch
I came across this little hunch
I wonder if she'll come on by
I wonder if she'll come say hi

Now everyday she takes a jog
While I sit and eat just like a hog
Corned beef on rye bought from the deli
My breath, oh no, its very smelly

Oh look at her he's just on time
Gracefully jogging, that's no crime
Racing to my bench so deftly
Seeing her she looks so sweaty

Sitting down she says"May I?"
I offered her my piece of pie
"No thanks" said she "I watch my weight"
Would she, I hope, go on a date?

"You're not my type, I'm vegan, see
When I see meat I go queasy
My rest is done I must be off"
No date tonight the news was tough

So now alone on my park bench
Some juice i have, my thirst to quench
What once a dream of love to be
Is now again lost fantasy

So should I change and be vegan
And work to be a new he-man
And then a woman comes so near
Smiling and saying "Can I sit here?"

Think I will just wait and see
What becomes of this new fantasy


Details | Rhyme | |

Dancing Fun

There was an old woman 
Who danced with a broom
She did a little curtsey
Then flew around the room.

She bowed to the postman 
As he walked up to the door
He gave a little wink
And they danced across the floor.

The postman could see 
That she was having fun
He took her outside
And they danced in the sun.

The boss came along 
And had a look of dismay
He said to the postman,
"You just lost your pay today."

The old woman gave a look
Which made the boss smile
She took his hand in hers
And they danced for a mile.

The boss finally had to say,
"Will you marry me?
I haven't had so much fun
In all my history."


Details | I do not know? | |

Oh, when will be Spring in Alexandria

Oh, when will be Spring in Alexandria, 
The Chrysanths crave for company
The sea breeze brings a melody,
The day that will be spring in Alexandria. 
 
The flowers are going to bloom, 
Proud like the star-dressed Daffodil 
Dancing on the windy top of the hill, 
The day the flowers will bloom. 
 
Their scent will be carried away,
with the Cherry-pie giggling jingle 
covering all paths with a lilac glow,
the day the scent will be carried away. 
 
The bumblebee will stop her dance, 
On the Everlasting tiny yellow petal 
Dreaming memoirs of the coming Fall, 
The day the bumblebee will not dance. 
 
There is a secret Garden in Alexandria, 
Not in the deep sea, or in the library
And no other town can be as flowery 
As the secret garden of Alexandria.


Details | Haiku | |

to agree with me

made a robot
named it after her
programmed it to agree with me


Details | Rhyme | |

Remember

“I can’t remember you, but you are pretty,” said the old man Tears formed in the eyes of the woman "Who are you?" His voice was the grayest of blues "Are you my new doctor? Or perhaps a nurse?" Silently, the woman took something out from her purse The photo was a wedding shot of a young pair His smile was dimpled and wide, and she had curly hair The woman handed the photo to the old man Setting it on his shaky hand He stared at it long and hard, trying to remember He looked at the date in the back—the 13th of December He looked at the woman in sudden surprise “Marianne!” He cried with joy. “Of course, my wife!” She left the room without another word That was the name of his first wife—and she was merely the third


Details | Free verse | |

The Night I Don't Remember

The Night I Don’t Remember

I can hear the distant knocking
Three raps on the old pine boards
It is such a sunny day
Who would come to visit?
The door is so far away
Too far for me to walk
My mind is still in a haze
Too many drinks
Double shots of Jack Daniels
A young woman who spent the night
At least I think she did
I cannot remember when she left
I don’t know if she left
I never asked for her name
She is just a blur
The whole night is just a blur
Just another night in a long string
Week after week time and my life are a haze
Three more raps on the door
Who is waking me from my drunk?
I struggle to rise
I fight the urge to go bad to bed
I hold down what’s left of last night’s booze
So much effort to stop the pounding
Three more raps on the door
I want to die
I want to kill whoever is knocking
What in the hell did I do last night?
The door opens with a deafening squeal
God, why are you doing this to me?
Why did I do this to myself?
Confused as I am a man stands before me
I know him
I have seen him before
I do not remember him
Could he be Jack Daniels here to finish me off?
Holding out his hand he asks me a question
Am I going to know the answer?
He asked what I did last night
I don’t know
Was he the woman I went home with?
No, that’s impossible
I think I remember being with a woman
I don’t know
He asked the question again
My mind struggles with each word
My eyes can’t see what he has with him
Again he asks me
Again I do not understand
My mind is still lost in a universe of booze
He asks again
I understand
The cool air clears my mind
I can answer him
I can tell him what he wants to know
I don’t know why my pants ended up in his mailbox
Maybe if I see Jack Daniels tonight he will tell me
Then I will tell him 
And we will all be happy 




Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Silly Poem

I saw a little bird sitting in a tree,
I could see him he could see me,
He pecked at an apple and sang,
And through woods his song rang,
Happy he had anther little peck,
I smiled as the apple went down his neck,
It flapped its wings but did not fly,
He watched another bird float by,
He turned around and did a dance,
So I did the same just by chance,
We both waltzed around the tree,
I flapped my arms he laughed at me,
A man was watching close by
He asked if he could join in and try,
So two men and a bird wriggled,
A woman joined in and she jiggled,
Another woman and her pet,
She was good the best yet,
Then everyone in the park,
Strutted their stuff until dark,
As each left they gave a wave,
It's my first time at a rave.


Details | Rhyme | |

I hate MRS Oleson

I hate Harriet Oleson because she was a bitch.
Somebody should've had that awful woman lynched.
She makes me so mad that the veins in my forehead start to throb.
That woman was greedy, mean and she was the world's biggest snob.

She had a spoiled brat for a daughter who was named Nellie.
But when Laura Ingalls threw hay on her, she became smelly.
If I had been MR. Oleson, I would've gotten a divorce.
His wife was so ugly, she had the face of a horse.

If I could've gotten my hands on MRS. Oleson, I would've gave her a good shake.
Every time she looked in mirrors, they were bound to break.
The Ingalls were very good people and they were also very nice.
But I wish MRS. Oleson would've had to shave her head because of lice.


Details | Blank verse | |

flying leaf

Flying leaf. 
 
Tuesday I´ve looked in my kill list, but couldn´t find 
anyone to drone today, yet had time for the betting 
shop and won ten euros on a horse called Abdulla. 
In my trunks only, I went for a scooter drive; country 
lane a woman came out of her dwelling and crossed 
herself, yes I look like  an overcooked vanilla pudding; 
but no need of her to throw pebbles and set her 
poodles on me. Why do I end up in the wrong places? 
Once was waiting for a bus taking me to Garston and 
it was raining; I have forgotten what I was doing there, 
I remember a black woman who gave me a sunshine 
smile and rain stopped. Still Tuesday and I have no 
assassination list ready only memories of a life where 
I was torn from the mother oak, drifting in the wind  


Details | Light Poetry | |

The 21st century

This new age technology
Have me confuse I must confess
Cause while I spending more money
Everything else is getting less

I will give you some example
Hope you don’t get depress
But if I’m telling the truth 
Just answer and tell me yes

Our telephones now
Are all wire wireless
And them new stoves
 Now are completely fireless

A woman in Trinidad washing cloths
On the tree she throws her dress
I ask her why not use a line
She say she going wireless

Google making new cars now
That is driverless
And you just press a button to start
Its is also keyless

They even changing fast food also
To make them completely fatless
So you can eat all you want
While your wallet become cashless

A woman in Malaysia
Have to children who are jobless
And she quarrelling with her husband
Because them wives today are fearless

So while the cost of living rising
Our value become less
The world is in recession
Those leaders are directionless

Today you see young couples
Some of them cheat so heartless
Because to them relationships
Are completely meaningless

Some today have bad attitudes
And live life so careless
And when you tell them good morning
They say mind your own business

 My friend the romantic dude 
With then women he has success
But if he don’t marry one
Then he will be living wifeless

The fees in universities are expensive
While education are become valueless
And everywhere in the world today
You will meet people who are manner less

A man buys his wife a perfume
They call it timeless
Then he trying to lose some weight
so he drink is completely  sugarless

My girlfriend gives me lunch in a bowl
It was completely soup less
Them ask me if my belly full
Saying today we going foodless

So I tell her yes darling
It was so delicious
Because if I hurt her feeling
She might leave me loveless

Yes the 21 st century
Has everything is getting less
But still am and optimist
And will keep my hope endless


Details | Free verse | |

Kate's Bible Add On

And it came to pass that they ate their dinner
and that she did washeth up.
And she did leave the dishes to drain
Whilst she put on the washing machine.
and the man was very pleased.

And it further came to pass
that she gave the man some pudding
and he was more pleased.
And then it came to pass the he fell asleep
By the fire.

And the Lord God,said
who is this man that sleepeth by his fire?
And he said,I shall waken him up
And the man awoke,
And God spake unto him

How is it that the woman laboureth in ye kitchen.
And that thou sleepeth here in an armchair.
and the man said,
but Thou didst order women to labour.
And the Lord God said unto the man
Why dost Thou remember so selectively what I have said?
And the man said,
I knoweth not and therefore I will help this woman.
And the Lord God said,
Why dost thou not think of it thyself?
And the man said in reply,
It was Thou that made me,O God.

And the Lord God was displeased with the man.
so he called down a plague of butterflies
To prevent him from sleeping.
And when the woman came in
she was much pleased to see these butterflies
and so she fell onto the man
And he did make love unto her.
And the cat was very pleased.

For it thrilled him to watch humans mating
and gave him hope
That the Lord God would take his rib and make a mate for him.
And indeed it doth seem to have happened
Judging by all the cats staring in ye old window here
And by their ecstatic yelps
That the Lord God was very generous with them
and made them many mates.
For truly there is no jealousy among them
And they mate freely and happily
and never have rows about the washing up..as they eat straight from the can.Amen

Here endeth thy lesson for today.


Details | Rhyme | |

The Recurring Nightmare

The Recurring Nightmare

By Elton Camp

Is this a dream that you’ve often had
That you went out too scantily clad?

But to that revolting social mistake 
Nobody any notice ever seems to take

From what at malls and beach I see
That dream too often describes reality

I see one who’s dressed like Daisy Duke
The sight of her fat behind makes me puke

There’s a young man walking in the store
His pants sagging, shorts showing.  Abhor!

Then comes a stout woman with midriff bare
To look at her why would anyone really care

Along strides an old woman dressed like a teen
Dress too short, low in front, far too much seen

Full-length mirrors must be in very short supply
If they looked at themselves they say, “Oh my!”


Details | Rhyme | |

Zipperella the Cross Dresser

Rubber lover, Zipperella, 
is not a brother or a fella. 
He has false tits and kitten heels, 
not a chest and ankles made of steel 


His spiky rubber bag is old, 
cleverly patched with a Marigold. 
It’s been so long since he wore cotton, 
and only zips, never a button 

Zippy is a Tube commuter, 
six foot tall in his Transmuters. 
Lots of people stop and stare, 
even more when he had pink hair. 

Being a girl was such hard work, 
every day another jerk! 
Better to dye it back to brown, 
play his fetish lifestyle down. 

A little less attention is better, 
when all he wants is bread n butter 
Down to his local corner shop, 
in skin tight leggings and a belly top. 

He could blend if he wore a sweater, 
or maybe brown corduroys would be better. 
That’s what a woman would ask, 
it had happened in ZIppy's past. 

He’d had a wife who he'd loved dearly, 
but she couldn't understand him...clearly. 
Take off that dress, put on some trousers! 
What about mother, think of the neighbors! 

It went on like that for years, 
lots of heartache, floods of tears. 
Even though she was his lover, 
he felt like they didn't know each other. 


Then on a bight and sunny morning, 
came the last, the ultimate warning, 
‘Zippy, I want you as a man; 
you’re turning me into a lesbian!’ 


He was forced to wisely choose, 
the rubber-wear would surly loose. 
He had made his vowels for life, 
how could he just leave his (darling) wife? 

The only decent thing to do, 
was to be loyal, to be true. 
But then depression set right in, 
when all his beloved rubber was thrown in the bin! 

Time stood still for a couple of years, 
lots more heart ache, stress and fears. 
For he missed rubber in his (now) sad life, 
more than he would miss his nagging (dear) wife. 

This could not go on forever, 
he needed a friend not a jealous lover. 
Maybe she didn't’t like his feminine side, 
but Zippy loved dear Zipperella with pride. 

So one sad day they said goodbye, 
with no questioning or reasoning why. 
It was how it was meant to be, 
she was free, and so was SHE! 

Alone again but not as much, 
much more honest, much more in trust. 
For Zipperella loves all things feminine, 
now the woman he holds dearest lives within…him. 


(Author Notes
fella: man 
Marigold: washing up gloves 
Tube: london underground 
Transmuters: a brand of boots with frankenstein style heels with big studs)


Details | Light Poetry | |

Beauty shop

There is something I notice about women
That has me quite amuse
And the more I think about it
I am becoming more and more confuse

While walking down the street yesterday
In front a beauty saloon I stop
And when I take a look inside the window
I could have swore it was auto body shop

They were completely repairing a woman
From her head to her toes
I couldn’t believe what I was seeing
As my curiosity begin to grows

I see a lady working on her hair
Adding waives the colors of the rainbows
While one doing her fake nails
And another guy working magic on he toes

The eyes lashes was already glue in
and the blue contacts was done install
And when a Botox needle went in her face
You know the women didn’t even bawl

Then a girl come by her lips and blocks my view
So really couldn’t see what she was doing
But I know when the girl done and leave
Her lips look fat it was no longer thin

Then she talking of the work she had done
With silicone and implants everywhere
And she start telling of a bunch of other stuff
But a car blowing horn so I couldn’t really hear

Well in my life I’ve never seen
A woman takes so much pain
The thing that have me more worried
She makes an appointment for next week again

Now I checking all the things she had done
Fake nails, fake Lashes, fake lips, fake hair
Contacts, silicone, Botox fake top and behind
She looking like a new car walking out of there

But I must admit that she was looking nice
Face red and rosy like a ripe mango
And I could smell her perfume as she comes
Walking like she’s one of them super model

Then she stops out side and looks at me
Holding a bag of Chinese food in my hand
And said don’t even try it loser
A woman like me looking for a real men


Details | Free verse | |

pg 13 psycho chick

this chick i met at the store one day trying to sell me a jar or raspberry jam.
She said i looked familar.I said she looked familiar to
Elementary school.Third grade.Mrs brown was are teacher.
This girl always sat alone during lunch and at reccess .
Never had i realized how pretty she was so i asked her out to lunch.
When she said yes then trouble started spewing.
She hasnt stopped cutting her meat and shes putting splenda in her sprite drink.
When she speaks shes telling me all the names of her exs in alphabetical order and how it was always them and never her.I seriously doubt this ecspecially when she askes if id like to have a threesome with her sister.
I dont know how this psycho chick got me on date two.Shes pretty and all but thats all shes got too.
Sex is ackward.She insist her dog be in the room.She laughs hysterically the whole time and sleeps through the rest.
On date three i let her go gently.She said shed never forgive me and that i was by far the worst ex she ever had.I thought thank goodness for that.
On friday she called me and said all was forgiven.I asked her how she got my number?she said your mother gave it to me.By the way her name is smidgen isnt it.
I told her it was over.My temper started rising.
she said she didnt mind as her fifth ex was taking her back.I said good luck with that.
Never saw her again but that psycho chick still talks to my mother who says i should have proposed.I tell my mom if only you knew what that psycho chick put me through.


Details | Lyric | |

Singing the Blues

Have you ever, met a woman before?
Yes have you ever, loved a woman before? 
You wake up and see her, and run out the door

That’s my woman, that’s my strife, that’s my wife


I met my woman in a pub
Yes, met my woman in a pub
Only woman kicked out the ugly club

That’s my woman, that’s my strife, that’s my wife

She’s never been kissed by a boy
Yes never been kissed by a boy
You’ll feel compassion for her abused sex toy

That’s my woman, that’s my strife, that’s my wife

Chorus: 
That’s my woman, that’s my strife, that’s my wife
You know marrying her has ruined my life
But I love her, I love her so


Details | Blank verse | |

Root

A long time ago, in the dark lands of the gentile pagans
The people where like giants and our twelve spies; ants!
The spies’ mission went sour and they were almost captured.
Ten managed to escape to our lovely desert camps; enraptured!
The other two made themselves scarce, to the inconvenience of a woman
 Who hid them in the roof of her house and lied to save their hides.   
By and by, our brave woman married one spy and another gentile woman
Married the other spy…oh the dreadful tides!!!
It so happened that our promiscuous spies both died, and at the same time too.
Their distraught mother (for they were brethren) decided to return home.
But the woman who had first hid them made bid to return with her
But Old Childless Mother said “turn away my daughters for thou hast seen I have 
No sons and am too old and ugly to attract a man, for surely any man attracted to
Me in this state must darn well be impotent or desperate!”
The second saw reason and turned back home to her shows for her name was Orpah Winfey.
The one who had first hid the spies refused and said (with courageous theme playing in 
The background) “intreat me not to turn aside, for wither thou goest, I will go and wither 
Thou lodgest I shall be thine squatter and where thou diest I shall be present for the wake keep!”
When she saw that her determination was deeply ruthed, Old Childless Widow sayest unto her;
“Damn, why the hell not!”
So it came to pass that Ruth came to dwell with us, the chosen people.
But she was an outright lazy pile of bones, what with all the sitting all day under palm trees
And gisting and gossiping with passersby.  Well some folk thought she was a prophet
His name was Barak Oboma, he was dark and handsome and he was our leader.
She made him start a war with the people in the East whose military was whispered 
In dark places to be to be “The Talibansers” but that is a tale for another day.
Here ends the unnecessarily protracted and adjusted story of Root: the harlot turn
 Wife turn widow turn immigrant turned prophet.


Details | Rhyme | |

A Double Whacking

I ordered a hitman to whack a judge and that judge hired the same man to whack me.
The hitman got fifty grand from each of us, that was his fee.
But there was something the hitman didn't figure.
He died of a stroke before he could pull the trigger.
The judge said he was going to get me disbarred and I was wining and dining his girlfriend.
Those were the two reasons why the hitman was going to bring both of our lives to an end.
When the judge and I learned what happened, we made a deal.
We were both extremely relieved because we weren't killed.
Yes, I'm a crooked lawyer but that judge isn't a law abiding citizen either.
When it came to his girl, he agreed not to have me disbarred if I'd leave her.
That hitman weighed 400 pounds, that's why he had the stroke.
If it hadn't been for obesity, the judge and I would've croaked.

(This is a fictional poem)


Details | Light Poetry | |

The Art of Attraction

Said the short man in the three inch lifts, 
To the woman with the Botox lips, 
“People today are all so phony 
How can we know what’s not baloney? 
How do we find out what is real? 
And how do we know how we should feel?” 

Said the woman with the tinted lenses, 
To the short man honing his defenses, 
“Can’t you just believe in what you see? 
The sooner you do the happier you’ll be. 
Why do we need to find out what is real, 
When we are working so hard to conceal?” 

There’s a part of me inside, 
That I try my best to hide, 
Living in a guarded place, 
Tucked away without a single trace. 
None may enter and none may see, 
‘Cause if you did you might hurt me. 
So I only show the parts I want, 
To throw you off when you start to hunt. 

Said the short man with the facial hair, 
To the woman with the wide-eyed stare, 
You’ve got a beautiful augmented body, 
Can I drive you home in my Maserati? 
Even if it’s only lust that we’ll incite, 
We can fall in love at least for tonight. 

Said the woman with the perfect nose, 
To the short man, here’s what I propose, 
Let’s drink and dance right here for a while, 
Throw me a glance and I’ll give you a smile. 
Let’s give it a chance and maybe who knows? 
Let’s wait to see if anyone shows. 

There’s a part of me inside, 
That I try my best to hide, 
Living in a guarded place, 
Tucked away without a single trace. 
None may enter and none may see, 
‘Cause if you did you might hurt me. 
So I only show the parts I want,
To throw you off when you start to hunt.


Details | Free verse | |

mise-en-scene-II

It was a far cry for us to rent a house
But desire prevailed upon limited income
My wife was showing the rented house
To a beautiful woman, our next door neighbour,
And I was preoccupied with my work
Sitting in our loosely fenced enclosure.
“This is our kitchen,” my wife said
“Superb” the woman said
“This is our bedroom”, my wife said
“Very cute” she said using another adjective
“This is our living room,” my wife said
“Oh, wonderful” Yet another adjective
As they came out where I was sitting
“My husband” my wife said
“Very wwwwwww” she said,
She started rattling on about 
the previous occupants of the house
Rambling together tales of the tenants.
The woman knew I taught English at a college,
I think she wanted me to overheard
The random adjectives she used in English.
Don’t ask me in which humour
My wife had been as the lady left.


Details | Light Poetry | |

Picking up the pieces

If your woman should pack up and leave you
There’s no hiding the fact that it hurts
For there’s no one to do all laundry
And there’s no one to iron your shirts
You will sit there alone and dejected
Feeling so sad and bereft
When there’s no one to tidy the house up
God it’s tough when your woman has left

So your woman has moved out and left you
And you’re feeling morose and depressed
Don’t mope about, get up and go out
And get the whole thing off your chest
But alcohol isn’t the answer
Don’t sit in the pub talking twaddle
Get off your arse join a club or a class
And get out and find a new model


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3Dstripbooks&field-keywords=hidden+shallows&sprefix=hidden+shallows


Details | Rhyme | |

Hitting the Easy Target

Hitting the Easy Target

By Elton Camp

Scott found a way to make easy extra cash
By some old lady he would make a dash

Her purse he would snatch out of her hand
He decided that easy scheme was just grand

Her cash and credit cards he’d use on beer 
To treat the whole crowd he needn’t fear

Finally, because of what he continued to do
Old ladies whom he could rob become few

Then he saw a young woman on the street
“I can take her as I’m so fast on my feet.”

“For if any danger to a woman comes around,
She’ll always scream, run and then fall down.”

But Scott found that one he did underestimate
He was shocked with he received such a fate

Even as his purse-snatching crime did begin,
She hit him with her foot right under his chin

As his Miranda rights the cops did relate
Women may know karate he learned too late


Details | Rhyme | |

Felicity Undead

Since I have bad luck with women, I decided to build one.
But after I brought her to life, I said "What have I done?"
I used dead body parts to build her and I brought her to life with electricity.
At first I was very happy and I named her Felicity.
But I accidentally gave her the brain of a Nymphomaniac.
Whenever she sees a man, she always jumps in the sack.
Men don't mind one bit that she's undead.
They just like it because she goes to bed.
I thought she'd be faithful, what am I going to do?
If you're a man, she'll definitely want to nail you.

(This is a fictional poem)


Details | Limerick | |

FabelFortyFive

 FabelFortyFive 
FabelFortyFive 
 
CharlaXFabels 
 
 
This Limmerick 
 
There was an Old Lady she hailed from Nantucket 
She carried her fish in a red paisley bucket 
She wore her hair up in a honeybun 
She thought it made her quite the looking young 
The Pelican came with a busted wing 
The Old Lady was trying to catch it 
She chased and she chased and she chased it 
She carried a stick made of glass 
She has lippstick it is gloss 
She applies it to snakes and scorpions 
The glass stick not the lipp gloss 
She makes a poor lump of it 
The lipp gloss is read like two lips 
Tulips is many and varied in hue 
She walks in the way of the shrew 
She carries her stick to save birds 
The bird not the woman in the shoe 
That was Old Mother Hubbard 
She has tea in her cupboard 
The Nantucket not Hubbard 
She makes it in gold bullion cubes 
The tea not the shoes 
Millions of bags are hidden away 
Shoe bags not tea bags 
she has shoes for her children 
Yes Hubbard 
In the Cubbard 
The teas are all black and some green 
The shoes are all pink 
Her children are blue 
The Lady from Nan not the Shoe lady too 
The dog eats better than the yew 
A bone from the woman 
Hubbard not Joan 
There was an old woman from Nantucket 
Joan Hubbard was from Shoe Rhode Island 
She kept teas in the millions 
The Nantucket lady not Hubbard 


Details | Blank verse | |

Root

A long time ago, in the dark lands of the gentile pagans
The people where like giants and our twelve spies; ants!
The spies’ mission went sour and they were almost captured.
Ten managed to escape to our lovely desert camps; enraptured!
The other two made themselves scarce, to the inconvenience of a woman
 Who hid them in the roof of her house and lied to save their hides.   
By and by, our brave woman married one spy and another gentile woman
Married the other spy…oh the dreadful tides!!!
It so happened that our promiscuous spies both died, and at the same time too.
Their distraught mother (for they were brethren) decided to return home.
But the woman who had first hid them made bid to return with her
But Old Childless Mother said “turn away my daughters for thou hast seen I have 
No sons and am too old and ugly to attract a man, for surely any man attracted to
Me in this state must darn well be impotent or desperate!”
The second saw reason and turned back home to her shows for her name was Orpah Winfey.
The one who had first hid the spies refused and said (with courageous theme playing in 
The background) “intreat me not to turn aside, for wither thou goest, I will go and wither 
Thou lodgest I shall be thine squatter and where thou diest I shall be present for the wake keep!”
When she saw that her determination was deeply ruthed, Old Childless Widow sayest unto her;
“Damn, why the hell not!”
So it came to pass that Ruth came to dwell with us, the chosen people.
But she was an outright lazy pile of bones, what with all the sitting all day under palm trees
And gisting and gossiping with passersby.  Well some folk thought she was a prophet
His name was Barak Oboma, he was dark and handsome and he was our leader.
She made him start a war with the people in the East whose military was whispered 
In dark places to be to be “The Talibansers” but that is a tale for another day.
Here ends the unnecessarily protracted and adjusted story of Root: the harlot turn
 Wife turn widow turn immigrant turned prophet.


Details | Blank verse | |

Root

A long time ago, in the dark lands of the gentile pagans
The people where like giants and our twelve spies; ants!
The spies’ mission went sour and they were almost captured.
Ten managed to escape to our lovely desert camps; enraptured!
The other two made themselves scarce, to the inconvenience of a woman
 Who hid them in the roof of her house and lied to save their hides.   
By and by, our brave woman married one spy and another gentile woman
Married the other spy…oh the dreadful tides!!!
It so happened that our promiscuous spies both died, and at the same time too.
Their distraught mother (for they were brethren) decided to return home.
But the woman who had first hid them made bid to return with her
But Old Childless Mother said “turn away my daughters for thou hast seen I have 
No sons and am too old and ugly to attract a man, for surely any man attracted to
Me in this state must darn well be impotent or desperate!”
The second saw reason and turned back home to her shows for her name was Orpah Winfey.
The one who had first hid the spies refused and said (with courageous theme playing in 
The background) “intreat me not to turn aside, for wither thou goest, I will go and wither 
Thou lodgest I shall be thine squatter and where thou diest I shall be present for the wake keep!”
When she saw that her determination was deeply ruthed, Old Childless Widow sayest unto her;
“Damn, why the hell not!”
So it came to pass that Ruth came to dwell with us, the chosen people.
But she was an outright lazy pile of bones, what with all the sitting all day under palm trees
And gisting and gossiping with passersby.  Well some folk thought she was a prophet
His name was Barak Oboma, he was dark and handsome and he was our leader.
She made him start a war with the people in the East whose military was whispered 
In dark places to be to be “The Talibansers” but that is a tale for another day.
Here ends the unnecessarily protracted and adjusted story of Root: the harlot turn
 Wife turn widow turn immigrant turned prophet.


Details | Blank verse | |

Root

A long time ago, in the dark lands of the gentile pagans
The people where like giants and our twelve spies; ants!
The spies’ mission went sour and they were almost captured.
Ten managed to escape to our lovely desert camps; enraptured!
The other two made themselves scarce, to the inconvenience of a woman
 Who hid them in the roof of her house and lied to save their hides.   
By and by, our brave woman married one spy and another gentile woman
Married the other spy…oh the dreadful tides!!!
It so happened that our promiscuous spies both died, and at the same time too.
Their distraught mother (for they were brethren) decided to return home.
But the woman who had first hid them made bid to return with her
But Old Childless Mother said “turn away my daughters for thou hast seen I have 
No sons and am too old and ugly to attract a man, for surely any man attracted to
Me in this state must darn well be impotent or desperate!”
The second saw reason and turned back home to her shows for her name was Orpah Winfey.
The one who had first hid the spies refused and said (with courageous theme playing in 
The background) “intreat me not to turn aside, for wither thou goest, I will go and wither 
Thou lodgest I shall be thine squatter and where thou diest I shall be present for the wake keep!”
When she saw that her determination was deeply ruthed, Old Childless Widow sayest unto her;
“Damn, why the hell not!”
So it came to pass that Ruth came to dwell with us, the chosen people.
But she was an outright lazy pile of bones, what with all the sitting all day under palm trees
And gisting and gossiping with passersby.  Well some folk thought she was a prophet
His name was Barak Oboma, he was dark and handsome and he was our leader.
She made him start a war with the people in the East whose military was whispered 
In dark places to be to be “The Talibansers” but that is a tale for another day.
Here ends the unnecessarily protracted and adjusted story of Root: the harlot turn
 Wife turn widow turn immigrant turned prophet.


Details | Rhyme | |

2,222 and Rising

2,222 and Rising

By Elton Camp 

That is the number of spammers I’ve blocked
But the flood it has just stemmed, not stopped

For every time that I open my in-box e-mail
Still more scams do my senses irritate & assail

Just today, yet another Internet lottery I’ve won
To get a million bucks, they say, will be such fun

Oh, and just look at this extremely nice surprise 
My e-mail’s been randomly chosen for a prize

And somebody has a problem with gender ID
I’ve been selected Woman of the Year, I see

Then, oh my, there has been another plane crash
The bank wants me to claim all the family cash

A foreigner of a business partner is in great need
I can get rich by investing only some chicken feed

Another young lady wants me to sponsor her
“And, I will bring millions with me, kind Sir.”

Again some rich woman is just about to die
To get me to accept her money she does try

Here is an official in the greatest African bank
He offers a corrupt proposal that’s so rank

It makes me wonder who falls for stuff like this
But if they send enough, I guess they can’t miss



Details | I do not know? | |

Where do we fit...

It seems that woman need to be something...
Us man...well where do we fit in...
By our self...are we  a stock to be looked into...
Like brains...looks...working capital...
How do they...look at us...
After all the love is gone...
You know...the crazy side of hooking up...
Does this have a starting time...
Are the woman under pressure...
Who are we...some trophy hunters dream...
The scarry thing is...what about us left overs...
Where do we fit in...
We're the ones who watch the others...
The ones we wished we were but we're glad we're not...
Don't  you worry we're still in the biggest fishing hole...
Waiting our turn to get caught...
Just like a catch and release...
We have our own brand of bait...
What ever that is...
We don't even know...
But the woman think they do...
Don't you...


Details | I do not know? | |

a innocent man

Listen to me,
                         See reality for what it be,at times a mans mind need to be set free
giving the fact,their's so much on his back,that's why a good woman is needed
to keep him on track, no matter how hard he fight, destiny don't seem to do him 
right,but still he keeps on hoping, praying, fighting to stay strong,if he's granted 
one wish, send him where he belongs, not to be exiled and left along, as God 
is my witness, I will move on, for what they charged me with is wrong,  
I offered my friendship not my home, woman hurt me in the past, but they all are 
gone, what is left is a innocent man who needs not to be alone.


Details | I do not know? | |

a innocent man

Listen to me,
                         See reality for what it be,at times a mans mind need to be set free
giving the fact,their's so much on his back,that's why a good woman is needed
to keep him on track, no matter how hard he fight, destiny don't seem to do him 
right,but still he keeps on hoping, praying, fighting to stay strong,if he's granted 
one wish, send him where he belongs, not to be exiled and left along, as God 
is my witness, I will move on, for what they charged me with is wrong,  
I offered my friendship not my home, woman hurt me in the past, but they all are 
gone, what is left is a innocent man who needs not to be alone.


Details | I do not know? | |

A Man's A Man Fer All Dat

When a man's on his own, he's just dat.
He's dis an he's dat … jus dis an dat …  an dat's dat.
But now let a good woman enter his life
Let a good woman become his sweet wife
Now he's inspired from dis and dat to this and that and more than that.

From seat left up to seat put down
To clothes picked up 'stead of lying around
From paper cups and plastic spoons
To silver and china with roses and moons
Yes, a good woman transforms his dis and dat to this and that and more than that.

She's a smiling light by which he sees
Yesterday's socks still below his knees.
Her delicate nose, bright eyes and charms
Reminds him to fumigate under his arms.
A man is a man fer all dat, but with a good woman life's this and that.

He wipes his feet as he comes in the door.
"Don't track that sawdust - not on MY floor!"
He hangs up his coat on the back of da chair.
Oh! That's right ... that's wrong ... it doesn't go there!
Well, he hangs it up somewhere, just where I forget
Not on the floor, 'cause the floor is all wet
From the mud on the boots which by the door should be set.
I’ll be getting that look again, that's a safe bet!
But instead she brings warmly a cup of hot tea
With smiles and kisses and m-m-m-m-m … biscotti.

I know there's a lot more dat a “THAT" man should do
Lots of rules about tea time and stuff called "foo-foo".
Yes, a man is a man for all that.
With sawdust and leaves on his old woolen hat,
On his own he's content as an ol’ alley cat, scruffy and scraggly as dis an dat.

But with a good woman like I'm blessed to call mine,
His life starts to mellow like aging fine wine.
His mind starts to think and his heart starts to care
For the spirit-filled treasure who's his lady fair.
So he opens her door, he puts down the seat,
He eats with a fork after cutting the meat.
With napkin in lap and armpits like cedar,
He thinks of his life and how much it is sweeter
Than when he was only and lonely and sad
And says, “Aye!  Dis new life ain’t really half bad!”


Details | Light Poetry | |

Old Roger

Old Roger is dead and gone to his grave,
Hum,ha! gone to his grave.

They planted an apple tree over his head,
Hum,ha ! over his head.

The apples grew ripe and ready to drop,
Hum,ha ! ready to drop.

There came a high wind and blew them all off,
Hum,ha ! blew them all off.

There came an old woman to pick them all up,
Hum,ha ! pick them all up.

Old Roger got up and gave her a knock,
Hum,ha ! gave her a knock.

Which made the old woman go hipperty hop,
Hum,ha ! hipperty hop.


Details | I do not know? | |

An Old Woman

Once upon a time there was an old woman
A really old woman I knew well
She had a daughter who was also an old woman
But the oldest only time could tell.

When they were together, whenever, whenever,
The youngest would always say...
You're sure an old woman, an old old woman
Then the eldest would always say...

Now listen here you, you old old woman,
I've lived a many a year,
I've earned my gray hairs, my battle stripes of life
You're catching up, you old woman, ya hear?

The two old women were as close as sisters,
Just as close as any two could be,
The oldest woman is my mother...
And the youngest one is me!


Details | I do not know? | |

Untitled

What if a man and a woman could trades places for one week. Who do you think 
would come out on top? Do you think that a man could give birth? Do you think 
that a woman could fix a car? Do you think that a man could handle a period? Do 
you think that a woman could ignore all of her responsibilities and lay around the 
house playing the game all day? do you think that a woman could disrespect a 
man by grabbing his butt when he walks pass and say" hey baby you should give 
that body to me" Bit the main question is that once everything is changed back to 
normal do you think that we as people would respect one another more.


Details | I do not know? | |

Doll

(This is a fictional poem)

I burned my son's inflatable doll.
He'll have a real woman or no woman at all.
When he learned what I did, he cussed me out.
I took him to the woodshed and he started to pout.

When I found his doll, I was shocked.
Now I know what he was doing everytime his door was locked.
When it comes to my son's love life, it is pretty dim.
Everybody learned about his doll and now no girl will go out with him.


Details | I do not know? | |

Uglier than sin

(This is a fictional poem)

Every woman changes after we go on a date.
They become lesbians when they were previously straight.
I'm not popular with women because good looks is what I lack.
I'm getting tired of looking at mirrors because they always crack.

One woman screamed and lost bladder control when I kissed her.
Maybe the reason why I'm so ugly is because my parents are brother and sister.
I only go on blind dates and women never like what they see.
They find it more appealing to date each other than to date me.


Details | I do not know? | |

Sittin' At A Green Light

I honked at an old woman sittin’ at a green light
She was sittin’ at a green light, you see.
After I honked a few more times
She looked in her mirror at me.

Just sittin’ at that green light, what was she thinkin’?
But I guess that’s the elderly for you
What shade of green was she waitin’ for?
So I did what others would do.

I was impatient, I was running thin
‘Bout the old woman who was sittin’ there
The light just might turn yellow again
Just go. Go anywhere!

That old woman that was sittin’ at that green light
Was a woman just like no other
The only one who would sit to annoy me
Who else could it be but my mother?