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Prose Poetry Humorous Poems | Prose Poetry Poems About Humorous

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

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Details | Prose Poetry | |

Wrinkles

Wrinkle, wrinkle on my face…

Couldn't you have found some other place ?

What made you furrow between my eyes ?

And all those creams, they are nothing but lies….

When I look in the mirror, all I can see…

Is a silver haired person staring back at me….

Then there are the lines , which run down the sides of my nose…

Running in circles, round my lips, down my neck and into my clothes….

Speaking of clothes , isn’t that where the wrinkles should be ?

Is nature playing a trick on me ?

Or is this a sign “ old “ is sneaking up on me ?

It seems only yesterday I was a young girl .. and had my whole life ahead of me…

So simple..so free……

Which don’t take me wrong I have enjoyed my life’s ride…

And there isn’t much in my life, I haven’t tried….

But it should would be nice if I could just see…

Myself with one less wrinkle…when I looked back at me…..


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Let us Talk

There was no one better
 At handling disputes
 Than him
 Late at night
 All alone
 In the dark
 You could hear him
 Practicing for his next debate
 We all knew
 That the title they gave him
 Was so richly deserved
 Stan Smith
 Masterdebator


Details | Prose Poetry | |

April And The Lost Stamina Sussex County I

-Honey go to the Dr
-April I don't know Am I still alive?
-Do it for Us, ours strive
-And the watcher what I should say?
-Tell him the all system was hacked 
 
-The all system was hacked William (Blush)
-we going to do some tests now 

"this guy is one in a million"

Two weeks 
1000 Doc critiques 
indecision
Deliberation: -Not going.
April goes to the office, -so Easy going how is he?
Good so far The CPU is Ok, Keyboard and Screen Alright 
The power A-L-W-A-Y-S in save E mode 
See this <| ...
He will never again hit the road with full load 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Matter of Creativity


Capital letter …

Right now, please note: it is time to dust, not write.

Dust was eating away this besieged body;
Amassing with all the misery that delights in ambush.
It crept into secret crevices,
Quietly dulling senses, as it blended in;
Softly choking, mimicking flu,
Before weaving a blanket so thick
It embraced and insulated;
Gently burying body under the weight of
An elephantine duvet with speaking tongues.

Write now, right now that house pride has succumbed to ash
As caked and empty cans and bottles decorate.
The dustman hurried by the empty drum
For rubbish barricaded the front door.

The inconvenience: to eat, drink, shop, to pay bills
Without leaving one’s desk these days.
Friends and adversaries seep out of pens,
Alphabetically springing to colourful life.
Who dares miss a thought so precious, so elusive –
Might never occur again.

So grasp it, rack it; right, left lobe battle dire emotions and reason.
Let dust prevent thoughts from leaving from whence it came.
Incarcerate all grey matters. 
Now one can write how it feels to have dust as qwerty companion.
Then fling open the door,
Let light and the world in.
Shout: “I write because I can.”  
Full stop … Exclamation mark!
End.

(PS: begin again.)


Details | Prose Poetry | |

How Did Santa Claus Broke The Reindeer Back

How Santa Claus broke the reindeer back

I am just disappointed he is such a play ball; he refuses to joined the community gym, he have no consideration for a hard working reindeer like me. Please do us all a favor and stop telling everyone that you’re tall and slim Mr. Claus
Santa put this in your pipe and smokes it. I am forming a union; you can contact my Lawyer Mr. Tin Tin

 I need some Fringe benefits else I am going to quit; year after year after year I chauffeur you around
This is not a smooth ride on green grass, it’s cold, cold snow “please looked around.
Breaking into people houses late at night, dropping off toys, we are plaster on every walls and poles
Santa this reindeer is off radar; you get off your fat ass or hire Casper the friendly ghost.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Caution : NRA Possibility

Walking through the woods early in the day...

Haven’t seen a single soul passing my way...

All set to hunt as, I bought the latest gear....

On this the first hunting day of the year.....

It isn’t too cold but there’s a bit of snow...

So footprints will tell me where to go...

I can track by smell....

And I’ve been told pray tell....

That Man is getting smarter every single year..

Which means a lot... to my friends in here...

But now here’s the twist of this little ditty...

I’ve never lived or been to the city....

But trust me.. cause when I’m done..

And this is all in fun...by the end of Fall....

I’ll have a gorgeous blonde six footer ... a hanging on MY wall....
  
*** Just a thought...NRA = Natural Roaming Animal....
       or Nasty Reindeer Association.......hmmmm


Details | Prose Poetry | |

THE SNOW RAIN

its not starking
its falling
its the lords calling
it can be a pain
the 
SNOW RAIN


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Nikhil Chandwani releases his poetry book titled Ink'd With Love

The must awaited poetry book by a national awardee Nikhil Chandwani has finally been released. With high expectations and very high potential buyers due to his massive fan support, Nikhil finally released his poetry book titled Ink'd With Love.

There have been books on teenagers and there have been books on their emotions but somehow, these images are not of only one individual. Hence a new poetry book that is titled Ink'd With Love.  It involves many romantic poems written by a national award winner, Nikhil Chandwani.. At every stage of the teenager’s life he or she faces deception, is cheated and the hurt refuses to go away. It is an interesting portrayal of the neo-adult life- where aspirations are on the high, the zeal to make a difference for oneself is acute- and still the mind is overlapped with childlike innocence ready to take the deadly plunge into the real mayhem of chaotic existence. What seems rosy attracts but the taste of reality is later bittersweet leaving a long lasting impact in the reader’s mind- giving him the chance to identity with the protagonist.

Much of the work comes across as poetic images, disjointed sentences… the stream of consciousness that pervades the young… they do so many things at the same time. They live their own lives and also lives of others around them. It affects them and yet they are unable to perceive the feelings as one whole. Some can take the hurt along with the accolades but some are unable to take the hurt. They suffer broken, disjointed lives and some are even forced to give up the struggle. This is the life of a teenager portrayed by one of the fastest rising author from India, Nikhil Chandwani. 
This is his second book. First one of an international best seller 

Nineteen year old Nikhil Chandwani is a prolific writer. He writes fictional stories for various magazines, newspapers and websites. He is a gifted lyricist, best selling author (I wrote your name in the sky) and a national award winning poet rolled into one. He is, at present, pursuing his engineering degree from VIT Vellore.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Nikhil Chandwani releases his poetry book titled Ink'd With Love

The must awaited poetry book by a national awardee Nikhil Chandwani has finally been released. With high expectations and very high potential buyers due to his massive fan support, Nikhil finally released his poetry book titled Ink'd With Love.

There have been books on teenagers and there have been books on their emotions but somehow, these images are not of only one individual. Hence a new poetry book that is titled Ink'd With Love.  It involves many romantic poems written by a national award winner, Nikhil Chandwani.. At every stage of the teenager’s life he or she faces deception, is cheated and the hurt refuses to go away. It is an interesting portrayal of the neo-adult life- where aspirations are on the high, the zeal to make a difference for oneself is acute- and still the mind is overlapped with childlike innocence ready to take the deadly plunge into the real mayhem of chaotic existence. What seems rosy attracts but the taste of reality is later bittersweet leaving a long lasting impact in the reader’s mind- giving him the chance to identity with the protagonist.

Much of the work comes across as poetic images, disjointed sentences… the stream of consciousness that pervades the young… they do so many things at the same time. They live their own lives and also lives of others around them. It affects them and yet they are unable to perceive the feelings as one whole. Some can take the hurt along with the accolades but some are unable to take the hurt. They suffer broken, disjointed lives and some are even forced to give up the struggle. This is the life of a teenager portrayed by one of the fastest rising author from India, Nikhil Chandwani. 
This is his second book. First one of an international best seller 

Nineteen year old Nikhil Chandwani is a prolific writer. He writes fictional stories for various magazines, newspapers and websites. He is a gifted lyricist, best selling author (I wrote your name in the sky) and a national award winning poet rolled into one. He is, at present, pursuing his engineering degree from VIT Vellore.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

mosquito and man

MOSQUITO AND MAN
Oh no! Why do men hate me so much? From incarnation even as I try to make my legs and hands and buttocks as small as anything! So they can’t say am competing with their colossal legs and hands and their protruding buttocks!
They say; we knew it! Right from the first sight, he was bent on evil with the ulterior motive that, whenever he perches on the sweet succulent, fresh, flesh - of ours, it won’t be noticed. Because he believes men are fools after all, big brains are not found in big bodies.
Men are evil.  As I try to befriend, the more they inflict pains on me. Ok! I feel rejected and dejected by men, I considered it and thought it wise to detach myself from men by living in nearby bushes and rejected dumped waste and refuse.
They say; ah! Mosquito, you always make use of that little sense of yours. It is all pretence; you love men so much that you can’t live without them! Ok, if you say you want detachment, why must it be near men’s homes, or their dumped refuse and liquid waste? Why not very far at the desert so men won’t complain again. You love men! It is even clear as you lay your eggs where you feel you hate.
Men are ignorant. Ungrateful idiots! Their brains are stuffed with manure. Ok! If I hate men, why should I use the talent God gave me to make them comfortable? I use the best musical instrument; harp, flute with my wonderful composing way of singing, just to make them happy yet they detest me. Ok! How many men are musicians? How many even use the talent God gave them? Since God made me a musician from incarnation I will continue to use the talent, no matter how men feel.
Mosquito, Jackson of the age. You sing and even dance for men’s comfort! But the question is, if you love men as such, Why must the benevolent be a sort of boring? Why must it be at odd hours in the night made for resting? Even as we say stop! You still continue your singing. We don’t need it please! Your singing is a discomfort for men.
Ok! What of the affection I show to prove my love? I kiss your flesh and blood, just like any other man does by kissing the tongue and saliva of a female partner for love! Do you appreciate it at all? All I get from you are rancor and malice. Our judgment will be in heaven certainly.
The problem with you (mosquito) is that you don’t accept fault, very controversial and a very big threat to man. That is what you are! Accept your nature. You say you show affection, ok! Have heard of a man who kisses and inflicts pain on the partner? Perhaps by eating up the tongue or ejecting poisonous liquid in the partner’s mouth? But when you kiss, you disfigure our flesh and inject malaria into our bodies. Is that what you call love? We don’t want such affection, just know that; once you come around, we are at alert and always ready to strike! Let the worst happen in your so called heaven.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

ITS COLD DRESS WELL

 wear socks
the coat that locks
 a hat be a smart bat
slick like a cat
move like a rat
the weather beat
just be neat
listen to holiday bells
ITS COLD
DRESS WELL


Details | Prose Poetry | |

~ (~) ~ The Things of These ~ (~) ~(Part #1 of 6) ~ (~) ~

It is those things such as these-yes... . Like remaining on mute because your staying in tune with the close captioning of the news set up in the picture in picture TV on the big screen. Of the football game from the Bengles', loss, yes again, and yes again ""don't you know it "! As your two fraternal twins sit there crying pulling at their heart while one of the years before Super Bowl champs' from the Cowboy's knocks the ball out from good old boy Chris Collinsworth's hands. As he's running with all that he's got not but about twenty three yards out from the goal line. While soft tired whimpers can be heard, pounding their legs and stomachs rocking away in all seriousness saying why, why, why? And struggling yourself as a Father you teach them to take it all in stride and how to watch the humorous spiels from the night before, and to never bet truly on anything from them. Sometimes sadly... ! Credences' Rolling on the River playing. And so the many amenities yes the certain perks of benignity are as well I feel spending the time with close family and the wondrous sounds yes tasty smells of "BAM" rosemary wilted-spinach, fresh chopped mushrooms shallots and garlic a splash of white and red wine vinegar a pinch of salt and pepper lots of bacon and a thousand basil eggs hordes of cinnamon French toast and what every happy family needs, a bunch of good old sage'd up getta and congealed grit pies sizzling and popping away furiously in the butter on the stove in the iron skillets. And though an extra the grits they are placed in purely-and-only as an honor for my family and Father, of my past who now has passed. A personal favorite I too shared with him after church on Sundays. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gq1roSoMS84


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Responses to Reflexive Daydream

But my love had wanted me to close my eyes. She awaited that moment for an eternity with
unrivaled patience. For she was in love with the water and waited only for me to close my
eyes so that her escape could happen without my perception. I was the scapegoat for my
love. What a cruel twist of irony: the reason I was unhappy would seemingly be of my
fault. How amazingly spiteful that the one I loved so much allowed me to wallow in
self-pittance while she made off with her true love. Her true love that lurked so calmly
undetected, yet was there the whole time. 

My love floated, dead, alongside my boat. I continued to ride as the boat smoothly and
steadily headed toward shore. In an almost humorous obedience, my love stayed alongside
the boat. Caught in the wake, her non-seeing eyes saw everything but saw nothing. Her
beauty was unharmed and the water made her shimmer and sparkle with the sun's rays. If
this was how it was going to be, I was okay with it. My love was happy. As I rode closer
to shore, my love's body slowly started to float higher up on the water. Her eyes became
less whited. As the boat slid up onto the soft, white sand, her laid half-in, half-out of
the lake. Without hesitation, I bent down and lifted her into my arms. As she awoke from
the sleep of death, she coughed and gasped. I whispered I love you as our embrace grew.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Tom's Super Quiz Poet's Contest

Okay folks, here we go: Super Quiz Contest; Part One:  First one to accumulate 
25 points total for all parts, wins....
1) Make a 6 line poem incorporating the following 6 words, or phrases" (I will 
provide one bonus word to provide you a bit of choice) . Use  verse libre', rhyme, 
or burlesque, but I'd suggest burlesque, as that form has more value here.- the 
words are "waffle", "roller skate", "Latex semi-gloss paint" "bench press" "coal 
bin" and "police siren" ; 10 points max value.  Humorous poems for above 
(burlesque) can accumulate up to 10 bonus points.  Remember, the poem 
should make some sort of explainable convoluted sense, at least in the crazy 
tom way.
2)Part two; Answer correctly the following riddle/quiz; "I sound like a part of you, 
and I'd never speak of you a'foul...but sometimes I stretch out- and make others 
howl.

One clue will be posted each day, starting on the second day- up to 5 clues max.; 
but each day the values decline by 1 point...Contest entries accepted up till 
midnite of Sunday night, Oct 14.  Winner, if any, will be announced following day, 
if prize has not been won already...
May the best man, or woman, win...Based on past results, I'd say watch out for 
Shar-she usually wins these, although this one is tougher than most.  So best 
luck to all.  Winner will be granted a custom poem by me based on any one word 
you choose- name, thing, etc.  I may ask up to 1 1 word clue,if I need, one brief 
question of clarification...
The judge's word is final...(yes, mine!!, being married 2 times, that'll be a new 
experience...).
And everyone is welcome to comment on other entries, so long as appropriate 
respect and clean language is abided to.
Good Luck!!!!
                                                 tom bell