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Humorous Ode Poems | Ode Poems About Humorous

These Humorous Ode poems are examples of Ode poems about Humorous. These are the best examples of Humorous Ode poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

Details | Ode |

If I was Leonard Nimoy

If I was Leonard Nimoy I would rush about the place, 
I would hold my long pointy fingers in front of me as I sprang from door to door,
My pointy boots deftly propelling me from shadow to shadow my pointy ears sleek in the dark,
I would wear an elf’s cloak like a slender bony wraith and be like Pan in the woods.

If I was Leonard Nimoy, ceaselessly running here and there,
I would fondle things, peruse things, and look under things and open cupboards,
A real nosey sneak, climbing through windows and going through draws,
I’d sniff other people’s belongings with my long sensitive nose,
trying on peoples clothes, reading their diaries, wearing their shoes.

If I was Leonard Nimoy I would be a real cheeky bastard,
Quickly rushing about, hands in front, cloak flapping behind,
Stooping like a thief in the dark, arranging dinner dates, making phone calls,
Then I would vocally abuse people and adroitly cut them down.

If I was Leonard Nimoy I would use my Vulcan logic to orally molest people,
I would line people up with my stone hard glare and coldly hurl verbal perversions at them
Willowy fingers, hunched shoulders, flat black hair, pointy ears, spikey shoes, cloak fluttering behind.
Expressionless, cool, thin and dexterous, I’d cause a right awkward mess behind the scenes.


Details | Ode |

6 Second Trailer

6 Second Trailer

OMG
Did you see it?
OMG
Its...
I'm...
Oh
My
God

It's a fantastic flick
This is...
OMG

The full trailer?

It's coming
It's coming
OMG
So am I

Did you see her...
His...
Its...
Oh
So sweet
Gotta tweet
Gotta sleep

Don't ya love it
OMG

Who wrote it?

The screenplay?
Who cares?

Opening?

Premiering 2015

Bit early, eh?

What, the trailer?
Ya think?

Yeah, but
WTF
YOLO


Details | Ode |

Ode to Emily

In the 1800‘s
Looking out from a window down through an old oak tree
At flowers and skies, cloudy grey or sparkling blue,
Walking through the waving green grasses of the yard.  
Mistress of words with an interior so deep,
Two thousand poems in the old leather trunk 
Until her death,  gently packed away.  
Only 7 were published while she lived, 
All anonymously.
Never wife nor mother, rare for those times
Yet, nature, love and death, their images and understanding
She placed in a few perfect lines.
Hearing  the larks’ songs, science and religion 
Modern thoughts in poems sent and rejected.
The Atlantic Monthly was  backward;
Their editors so wrong.

Now I can’t pretend I fully comprehend
Her interior expressed sometimes
Too weighty for me.  But the depth of those
I comprehend adds to 
My hope that a life constrained
 Whether by health or times 
Is still filled with possibilities. 
 And so she said
“ If I can stop one heart from breaking; 
I shall not live in vain.” 
Though a mystic and transcendent,
With her practical humorous side this ends
“Faith is a fine invention
    For gentlemen who see;
But microscopes are prudent
In an emergency!"
This little Emily is my ode to thee. 


Jared Pickett's The Ode Contest