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Best Humor Poems

Below are the all-time best Humor poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of humor poems written by PoetrySoup members

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New Humor Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best Humor poems are below this new poems list.

A Little Humor by Rose, Mystic
Saint Patrick Day Humor by Rose, Mystic
Love and Humor by Warrior, Winged
A Little Humor For Your Day by Rose, Mystic
bathroom humor by Guffey, Patrick
My odd sense of humor by Hararah, Houston
A Top Ten For Humor at the Soup by Dietrich, Andrea
Tombstone Humor by Rigoler, Maurice
A LIttle Humor For The Day by Rose, Mystic
A Little Humor by Rose, Mystic

View all new Humor Poems

The Best Humor Poems

Details | Humor Poem | |

Best Man

It has been 9 months since your sudden disappearance.

That Hallowed night when your 5’11” nerd aura
Handed me my early birthday gift
A cold shoulder wrapped in a velvet bow
Made in Sri Lanka, sold exclusively at the Dollar Store

That was your appraised value.

But, today, revival’s whisper enters my gently waxed earlobes.

Candy coated revelations
For my allergic blood

“I said yes!”, as she flashed Cracker Jack ring
Filled with Monopoly dollar signs and “Go directly to Jail” Chance cards

I almost applauded, my hands sarcastically never connected
While my eyeballs rolled in epileptic banter

We scream in misguided nerd joy 
As if we witnessed Monty Python & Darth Vader having a make-out session

Sudden urges to watch movies about Traveling Pants & Sisterhood
And PSing my I Love You
While we eat Dark Chocolate Klondike bars and Chipwich Ice Cream Cookies
My ovaries were bursting with INSANITY’S JOY!

But, WAIT, I quickly realized I didn’t have such parts!

It was then, reality crashed
As if Spider Man ran out of web during mid-air leap

My essence now halts at crossroads’ throat.

To my left, “celebration”
To my right, “other”

I chose to be a human this night.

Current time- 9:15pm
Current location- Reception Hall

A 5 course meal,
Including dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets
Smiley face French fries
And 3 glasses of Tang
Surrounded my space on the dinner table

Heavenly echoes of forks & glass,
Ringing in ignorant unison,
Give birth to Tinnitus in my drums

In their 9 months of togetherness,
They kiss with forcible ease,
Frogs refusing to show their true form

It is then, ignoring listless stares from guests,
I stood up holding my half-empty Tang glass
Which MIGHT have contained a smidge of Grey Goose

At the TOP of my LUNGS,
I whispered.

“Friend, I should be so proud of you. I would. I could. You never responded to my open-hearted palm. You left my vulnerabilities dangling at half-mast, as if I lost our final game of Hang Man. But, TONIGHT, it is I & this delicious Dinosaur nugget that will HAVE a final say! You are impeccably flawed, like I. But, I still wanted you to be a part of my tomorrows. Yet, you turned me into a muted yesterday. So, I will wish congratulations on your new slav…um, husband, Pouring this glass of yummy Tang onto this stapled dance floor in a straight line Each drop will be a symbol of how many tears he will shed, before that line is crossed.”
As silence slapped each other in its face Across candle flame blanketed, marble dance hall, With children pointing & laughing hysterically, “Security” enters the room As I hold hands with Cuban female rent-a-cop, her head warming my shoulder, “Thank you for these 9 months. For now, I have given birth to a new me. The Best Man that you will never hold again.” ©Drake J. Eszes

Copyright © Drake Eszes | Year Posted 2013


Details | Humor Poem | |

Pirate Bay

```Pirate Bay the Haiku``` 

pirates fierce and mean 
drowning fish, sea to sea 
parrots on their butt 


```Polly Wants A Cracker``` 

bloodthirst & brutal 
Quartermaster Gone Wild 
dirty wings on deck 


```Sea World Adventure``` 
ship crew goes on strike 
sailing the Caribbean 
wooden leg splashing 


~*~

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2015


Details | Humor Poem | |

Mimes at My Funeral

When my time is done and I am finally laid to rest
I don’t want to be recalled as one who lived life depressed

So as I wrote my will, I chose to leave an instruction
That laughing gas be inhaled by all those at the function

No mournful eulogies will a pastor have to invent
For my funeral will be held under a circus tent

When dozens of clowns emerge from the tiny Volkswagen
Reams of my silly limericks Bozo will be dragin’

And as they’re read aloud, family and friends who knew me best
Will say, “She had a sense of humor, this we can attest.”

Mimes will mimic me trying to write the world’s best novel
As my corpse hangs from the trapeze, surely they will marvel

Laughter will ensue as they shoot me from the cannon
Flying high in my demise across the great Grand Canyon

All the children will smile and there’ll be no tears allowed
So no one will ever remember me as a “dark cloud”

There are people who seem to take life way too seriously 
When I meet my Maker, don’t view this as a tragedy

Dad called me his “happy girl,” so let me go out that way
I want to leave them laughing as I reach my judgment day

Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2011


Details | Humor Poem | |

Cas Tim Jan And Me

You have all heard I am sure of the three musketeers
The group with the swords not the ones with the funny ears

Reminds me of a joke that right here would apply
There are three kinds of people I tell you no lie
Those who are really quite good at math
And those who are not and that's that

They were the three musketeers but they were four
Their math was bad not three, four and no more
I hope you're all still with me, I'm not trying to be a pest
I need you to follow me because at the end there's a test

There is Casarah 
Yeah and hurrah
She is a good ma

Then there is Tim
You should know him
He's tall and trim

And  finally there is the kind hearted Jan
From England she's the one with no tan
Coy and demure behind her fancy fan
 
 If you kept count that makes three
Who can argue. You'd have to agree.
Now we have arrived at what I am trying to say
I've just joined them and I quite enjoy sword play

Do you see? I am number four.
I'll just walk through their door.
That makes me the best, the fillet mignon
It turns  out that I am frikin'  D'Artagnan.

Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2014


Details | Humor Poem | |

Chopped III - Humor

i narrate me own story in a fake english accent. the bloody typewriter is 
broken, it can't capitalize. i'm out of coins for the heater. i can see me own 
breath. it must be really bad . it's summer here in london. i'm a tough guy who 
carries a gun. don't mean i don't want to look good. i freshen up my lipstick,
light up a cigarette and offer one to my secretary. she is hot really hot.
like i said it's summer. she don't wear lipstick it wouldn't help. in the 
encyclopedia under the word butch is her picture. 

i put out my cig in an ashtray overflowin. i'd tell her to empty it but she scares me. 
she only wears one gold earring. who does that? i'm workin on a case, already 
drank half the beers. by the way i'm a dick a private dick. the name is rock,
rock hard. there's a knock at the door. this could be bad she has two fourty fives, 
she's also got a gun. 

she's holding an airline ticket. no reason. she says she just likes it. 
whatever! maybe it has to do with some kind of contest. 
she says we're going for a ride. we are driving when she gets a flat.

i pump she pumps then we get out  of the car and fix the flat. never liked 
cars, horses are more convenient. less breakdowns. she takes us to a 
party everyone is jumpin for joy, so joy gets up and leaves. bet you wish 
this was going somewhere. it's not. like i said i'm a dick.


11~28~2014
Contest: Chopped III
Sponsor: craig cornish

Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2014


Details | Humor Poem | |

A Joyless Job

At the window, palms under my chin,
such beauty I see, out the frosted pane,
I was mesmerized, it showed in my grin,
so picture perfect, the snow covered lane.

My daydream was dashed, Mom called from the door,
"time to brave the cold and clear the sidewalk,"
grabbed my winter coat and boots from the floor,
I hate this chore, but knew not to back-talk.

"Don't slip on the ice, watch out for the plow,"
I hear, as orange shovel meets concrete,
shouldn't the county have this done by now?,
this takes all day, with snow piled up in feet.

Why freeze for allowance, I'll never know,
yet, I still find myself shoveling snow.






November 18th, 2014

Sara Kendrick's contest - "Jobs"

Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2014


Details | Humor Poem | |

Newton's Law

I was inattentive in Science class one day
When the teacher at random looked my way
I didn't look up, I wouldn't dare
There's no escaping that intense glare.

Asked me to explain to the class
Newton's Law of Gravity and mass
My mind was a blank, heartbeats louder
For an answer I started to flounder.

I stood before the class trembling with fear
"Gravity" I said...and then oh dear!!!
I fell off the stage on to the floor
How the class with laughter did roar.

The children tittered in great amusement
They didn't know my sad predicament
The teacher said, "You've demonstrated gravity"
"Although you did it with much levity".

At length I returned to my seat
With many applause did they greet
Now I look back upon this and ponder
I decide to listen and not let my mind wander.

Copyright © Nandita Das | Year Posted 2015


Details | Humor Poem | |

An Unusual Colonoscopy

I stepped in for my first colonoscopy. I was nervous everyone could see
I had a choice to be awake or put out if I was skittish...but no not me

I chose the former so I could watch my own ass on TV
They go right up your canal with a camera like an RV

Imagine my surprise when up my butt they found my phone
The tiny ones they use to make before the smart cell phone

But here's the clincher it was set on vibrate. The doc was suspicious
"My wife insisted" I told him "she bribed me with cake. It was delicious"

Then the doctor red faced handed me something, said "what's this"
I borrowed his bifocals. It was a rolled up playbill. He looked pissed.

"I can explain. It's dated Sep. 8, 2001. That's my wife's 40th birthday
We were drinking. We lost it, got a fancy room right after the play"

He handed me one more thing, a broken pencil if you will
"I'm a mathematician. I was constipated I took a special pill

Then I used math to work it out with a pencil. This one I suppose 
It broke. I thought I got it all. I guess I didn't. I mean who knows?"

The good news is the test went well my colon was clear
They found nothing threatening just stuff that was queer

I must admit however ever since that very day I live in absolute fear
That doctor knows my wife's father. I tell  you this, in case I disappear



10/02/2014

Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2014


Details | Humor Poem | |

Justice - A Parable

A woman gave birth to a son
named Justice; he had little fun.
If he wanted to play,
his mama would say,
“But only when Justice is done!”

Poor Justice, from morning till night,
tried hard to do everything right.
By the end of the day,
he still could not play,
for his time to do chores was so tight!

His life was a crime with no play!
We all know that crime doesn’t pay.
But were I in his shoes,
having paid all my dues,
I think I might just run away.

Well, sure enough, Justice did flee
and ended up in Tennessee.
With no place to belong,
he felt sad till along
came a girl who smiled tenderly.

Looking ragged, he asked (with some shame)
if the young girl would tell him her name.
“Can you guess?” said the Miss.
“Here’s a clue. It is this. . . 
Those who have me don’t take all the blame.”

The young man did not have a clue
what her name was; it was all new.
He’d never hear of
- yet soon grew to love -
this girl  and her charming name too.

Today Justice likes more his life
because this girl lessens his strife.
He learned her name well
when in love he fell
and Mercy he took for a wife!


Written Sept. 6, 2015 by  Andrea Dietrich

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2015


Details | Humor Poem | |

Woodstock

~Woody Wood From the Hood~

Deep, inside yourself, you walk a sour way of life,
Carving my name, on every tree with a hunting knife
You log in, then log out
A Birdman So Fickle, he Stinks of doubt!

Blind today, bald tomorrow, 
Big Bird, will be your only friend
I can't seem to forget the day, you shed your final skin
Revealing a darker snake, than the one in my garden
Leaving the word betrayal, up to the imagination 

Trust not the fool, who thinks his halo is heaven sent
Using a fake ballpoint pen dietary supplement
Thinning out his wings, and losing the symbolic meaning

Aging in a way, that spreads crows feet from top to bottom
Sapsucker revolving yellow as if it was always autumn
Pecking Hard Wood, MR Pecker of all woodpeckers 
Forgetting who's the real Home-wrecker

Your dragging pants are no bother, Mr Woodpecker!
I've gotten used to the tree talking and your creative vision
Let's just say, "Gangster to Gangster, I gave you a mission."
Keep rapping and tapping the same old street sign, 
Woodstock, on demand, crap out the peanut punch
Whatever suits you for breakfast and lunch
Don't forget dinner's also about me

Go ahead!
Peck away with deception, reveal your sullen evil feathers  
A disease urine Birdman, doing it snoopy style
A flightless, lightless liar, nothing about him's worthwhile
Keep manipulating the weak, whatever turns you on
I'm not ready to shoot you down with my shotgun

~SKAT~

Copyright © SKAT A | Year Posted 2014


Details | Humor Poem | |

Slamming The Super-Duper-Soupers

you want to know a secret
when I write a poem and it's perfect
i dont share it
i bury it 
deep inside of me 
where no one else can see
i mean its perfect
not like this shift 
it's elegant, poignant, 
simplistic, bueatful 
trucking perfect
its not erotic 
but i read it
mentally masterbate to it 
a euphoric chorus 
straight form thesaurus
its just that great
im not being egotistical 
if read, it would become universal 
a meter tethered in clasical measure 
a rythmic flow
with many metaphoric undertows
an iconic harmonic tonic 
to make you feel like an embryonic hedonic youth 
im not being napoleonic
its an actual truth 
factually accurate
high in heaven
it produced a tear in the eye of god
who proclaimed 
not a single flaw
not a single flaw 
and he only saw what i wrote
well, because hes god 
me being me i like to tease 
allow me to be inclined to share a few lines 
blow your mind 
redefine your collective defective perspective
realign your ineffective respective connective tisue

"all my cows milk is homogenized 
all my crows are well organized
all my sheep like to stare and creep 
like to stare and creep"

but you'll never see 
the rest of my secret poetry 
that only exsist inside of me 
cows will always moo
crows will always ka kah 
sheep will always go baah baah baah 
and the perfect elagance 
of my literary inteligence 
will die with me 
never being seen 
qouted, memorised or plagerized 
as i will say with my last gasp 
the next line being twice my last
all you super-duper-soupers can kiss my ***


ok all you super-duper-soupers have been slammed. if you want to slam me back just a few things. make it funny. make it a little nonsensical and definitly make it over the top
and if you do slam me back send me a soup mail or leave a comment so i can go read your slam. 

Copyright © Nathan D. | Year Posted 2015


Details | Humor Poem | |

Adults Only A Sexy Write Just To Make Jan Laugh


I am dating a young woman and we are deeply in love. However, no matter what I do sexually, she never achieves orgasm so we decided to ask a sex therapist for advice. The therapist listened to our story and suggested the following; 

"Hire a strapping young man and while the two of you are making love have the young man wave a towel over you, as though he is fanning you both. Make sure he is totally naked and she can see his manhood as he fans you both with the towel. That will help your wife fantasize, and should bring on a full-blown orgasm." 

We went home and followed the therapist's advice. We hired a handsome young man and he stripped off and enthusiastically waved a towel over us both as we made love. But it didn't help and still my lover was unsatisfied and frustrated. 

Perplexed, we went back to the therapist "Okay" he says, "let's try it reversed. Have the young man make love to your wife and you wave the towel over them." 

Once again, we followed the advice. The young man got into bed with my lover and I waved the towel. The young man really worked with great enthusiasm and my lover soon had an enormous, room-shaking, screaming, orgasm. 

Smiling, I dropped the towel, tapped the young man on the shoulder and said to him triumphantly...."NOW THAT'S how you wave a towel, son!!"

03~12~2014 dadickerector

Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2014


Details | Humor Poem | |

My New Year's Resolutions: Humor

I have tracked my New Year's Resolutions 
over the years these are my fantastic results.

Resolution One

2011: I will try to be more attentive to Lauren.
2012: I will pay more attention to what's her name...ah...Lori...I know I'm close.  
2013: I will try for reconciliation with Lo.
2014: I will try to be more attentive to Carol.

Resolution Two

2011: I will walk 35,000 steps a day this year.
2012: I will definitely start my walking routine this year at 10,000 steps a day.
2013: I will walk once a week.
2014: I will try to drive past a gym at least once a week.

Resolution Three

2008: I will not stare at women's cleavage .
2009: I will cut down the amount of time I stare at women's cleavage.
2010: I will stop being so obvious when I stare at women's cleavage.
2011: I will attempt to stop getting caught staring at women's cleavage.
2012: I will stop increasing the time I spend staring at women's cleavage.
2013: I will seek professional help as directed by the courts.
2014: I will try to stop starring at the female prison guards cleavage.

Resolution Four

2011: I will not let my siblings push me around.
2012: I will stick up for myself with at least one of my siblings.
2013: I will not let my siblings bullying depress me.
2014: I will talk to Dr. Potter and the group about my siblings.

Resolution Five

2008: I will read Clarissa this year all 1534 pages.
2009: I did not read Clarissa I will read Varney The Vampire all 866 pages.
2010: I will read the first 50 pages of Varney The Vampire this year.
2011: I will read some articles in the newspaper this year.
2012: I will try and finish the comics section this year.
2013: I will read one strip in the cartoon section this year.
2014: I will read the fortune cookie thingy the next time I have Chinese Food. 

18~12~2014
Sponsor: Regina Riddle
Contest Name: New Year's Resolution 

Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2014


Details | Humor Poem | |

''Poet's Delight''

Math, physics, English, and so on--
     alas, are tiresome!
All the professors here go on 
     with a prime axiom. 

A stuffy, college campus where 
     knowledge and books abound,
freshmen and co-eds are clueless
     and confused all around.

Mid-terms and finals I do dread
     as each semester ends;
the pressure's on me to study
     as the semester wends.

School's oppressive this semester,
     I'll see my old provost
and leave 'ere I rot and fester
     and take up a new post.

William & Mary's M.B.A.'s
     are just worthless BS;
degrees from the home of “The Tribe”
     are crap that obsolesce.

I'll do rhymes as “Poet's Delight”
     as poems are my forté,--
not tomes or stuffy scholastics!
     Ballads are my métier.


1.) poembender; 2.) Philosophical motif; 3.) for "Impress me III ! (Old / New)" Contest


















Copyright © Ngoc Nguyen | Year Posted 2014


Details | Humor Poem | |

The Pedicure Virgin

I don't know what came over me that day - an instant of weakness after years of resistance, I suppose.

My beaming spouse leads me, a dog on a short leash, into the forbidden citadel, the sanctum sanctorum of feminine fastidiousness, the dreaded nail salon.

As we pass through the portal, we enter another dimension, one not of Man. 

One of Woman.

Overwhelmed by estrogen, like Superman in the presence of Kryptonite,  my strength saps. 

The harpies in the salon immediately sense fresh meat, hailing my wife like Caesar in a Roman triumph, gleeful in the knowledge of the barbaric sacrifice to follow. Lightheaded, my eyes dart around, a trapped beast seeking escape.

I'm screwed.

The sacrificial altar is prepared. The torture device is like a dentist's chair, but with a tub for the feet, presumably where they will drain out my blood. Resigned to my fate, I mount the gallows.

Glancing around, it seems that all the employees are Southeast Asians. Mostly young. Reputedly, they own this territory, like Indians in convenience stores or Italian greengrocers. My personal tormentor is the proprietor, a slim pretty Vietnamese woman perhaps in her mid 50's, with cold eyes and a professional smile.

I immediately sense  that I am dealing with She Who Must Be Obeyed. I am commanded in that bossy Asian way to put my feet in the tub, as she turns on the water. Apparently, like some feminine droit du seigneur, Dragon Lady reserves the right to draw first blood from pedicure virgins. My primae noctis, so to speak.

As she sits below me and leans forward to grab my feet, I get a good look at her  well-formed cleavage. Maybe this won't be so bad,after all...

As my feet soak, I close my eyes and sink into a Felliniesque fantasy, surrounded by Asian houris garbed in short white Grecian gowns, catering to my manly whims.

I'm getting a semi...

Dragon Lady brings me back to reality, placing my left foot on her toweled workspace. 

Whoa!
There's another guy here... 
and that SOB is getting a manicure from one of my girlfriends!

An older lady enters the shop. She has an experienced and well-traveled look. Obviously a repeat offender, she immediately begins apologizing to Dragon Lady for her tardiness, meanwhile sizing me up like a slab of man-meat. Dragon Lady gives her a proper scolding, then the horny old biddy tweaks my big toe and flashes me a knowing smile. I wonder if she is packing heat in that big purse...

Suddenly, I become William Holden in Sunset Boulevard. As I make a break for freedom, I am plugged in the back by the scorned Gloria Swanson lookalike.

Then, a cold look from Dragon Lady and my spouse re-establishes territory and Gloria backs off.

Dragon Lady looks pleased as she draws out what appear to be farrier's tools for shoeing horses, presumably to work on my virgin toenails, which I admit are heading toward Fu Manchu territory. A pair of evil-looking wire cutters makes short work of my talons, then she pulls out a chisel and begins removing layers of yellowed nail until they are smooth and white. 

Nice. I can take this. 

Then she removes the cuticles and pushes back the skin.

Holy crap! I think she just popped my cherry! I see blood on my big toenail. I take it like a man. A bead of sweat runs down my brow.

She finishes the flaying job, puts the foot back into the soothing bath and begins carving up the other one.

"And women pay for this?", I think.

"You like massage?", she asks.

"Massage?" I glance at my spouse nervously, wondering if she intuits the direction of my thoughts. 

She points to the control panel on the chair. 

Oh!

"Why, yes. Yes I would!", I reply.

Anything to take my mind off my pending amputation.

"All the way?"

I suppress my licentious thoughts.

"Warp seven, Mr. Sulu."

"What?"

"To infinity, and beyond!"

She got that one, and turns on the machine. Robocop immediately digs deeply into my neck  and spine with his titanium-steel fingers, plowing my vertebral column like a John Deere cultivator. My central nervous system releases a  flood of endorphins. The cocktail of pain and pleasure is a masochist's wet dream.

The surgery going on downstairs dissolves into the background...

Dragon Lady puts the second foot back in the tub and removes the first. She pulls out a big cheese grater and goes to work on the bottom of my foot. I don't have thick calluses, but she produces a pretty respectable pile of Parmigiano. Makes short shrift on foot two. My smooth feet now look like a baby's. 

Not too bad, not too bad. 

My spouse shoots me the old Told You So look and smiles.

Dragon Lady now pulls out the pumice for the final polish. As she goes to work on my foot, nerve endings now exposed after many years return me to infancy.

It tickles! Oh Momma, does it tickle! 

I'm giggling like a young girl. I can't stop, and I really don't want to either. The entire salon joins in my giggle fest. 

Dragon Lady doesn't let up for a second. She is giggling too, and for the first time I see the young, innocent Vietnamese girl buried deep inside. 

Then I see the napalm and burnt village.

And all the rest of it...

I see and she sees. We each have seen... too much.

She smiles sadly. As do I.

My next appointment is in a month

I'll be there.

September 11, 2014

Copyright © Roy Jerden | Year Posted 2014


Details | Humor Poem | |

KINGKONG



Our town had a monkey named Kong
who loved to croon and tweak a song.
   Though notes were a flop
    his ratings soared up,
and won as King of Sing- Along!


................
John Freeman’s  Famous Einstein Quotes
" “Only those who attempt the absurd can achieve the impossible.” 
- Albert Einstein

by nette onclaud
4/24/2015

Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2015


Details | Humor Poem | |

Dreaming

Will poems to my dull senses rise,
     In plainer garb, or apt disguise?
Can turn of phrase else serve an end,
     To vanquish foes or win a friend?

What ardor gains a rhyme’s release,
     To grant me treasured moment’s peace?
Or is it merely hubris’ child,
    That lets me dream I’m Oscar Wilde!

2nd Place, Best Poetic Form, Poet Destroyer A

Copyright © Mark Peterson | Year Posted 2013


Details | Humor Poem | |

The Stoned Pen - Humor


I feel privileged. I have been chosen by the Government as part of a group testing something called Edible Clinical Marijuana. Honestly I half expected it to look like a Burrito because the name sounds sort of Mexican. It actually looks more like a brownie. I’m am about to take a bite so hold on. Yum, tasty! So here is the point I am suppose to consume one half of a brownie then fill out this sheet giving them my feedback. Hold on I am going to have a few more bites. Okay, no wait, milk would go great with these babies. I’ll be back. (after a long while) OK, sew sorry I was gonna while I was staring inside my fridge\ for a while' tying to remember I think I wanted a glass of ink% aktiually I’m dinking from the bodle@ I am eating my forth brownie as I was instructured to do; Did they say four or? ate cause these. are tasty And/ aaaahhhhhhh,, tasty^ tayysstee^ hahahahahahahahaha"" a program on my compuwhatyoucallit keeps underlyning my words with read squiggles= hahahahahahahahaha but it diidn’t underline squiggle# hahahahahahahahaha wel dats stoopid squiggle isa perfect lee good underlying word* stoopid Bill Gated^ hahahahahahaha?haha sorry I ment Will Gated~ so watt was I saying ] oh yeah+ fill the sheet) hahahahahahahahaha I don wanna sheet, tha is gaross[ heeres a pen quesshun= Sex easy! ansir; yes- please) hahahahahahahahaha ?why m i bein so polite hahahahahahahahaha queshun! oh wow Blues Brothers on my TV what was I spose? to do oh yeah watch tv why am i so angry hahahahahah++ hahahahahahahahaha i mean hungary haahahahahah h u n g r y dere hungry> hey look brownies? those look good hahahahahahahahaha i con't tipe with mai mouth full dats rood/rood i'll get bak too dis later.. sew as they say hahahahahahahahaha two bee contitnude< hay lookk browniies Mo Rice Why Vone 144~13~20/20 Sponsor: Carol Eastman Contest: Humor

Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2014


Details | Humor Poem | |

Ninja Girl

   On the Isle of Man lives a Ninja girl
   Daring in her act, makes your toesies curl
   She has a pretty face
   And sips her tea with grace
   Be not taken in – she’s no fragile pearl.


   ----------------------------------------------

   Sent with hugs by Lulu` Pascal

Copyright © Paul Callus | Year Posted 2015


Details | Humor Poem | |

A Rhyme In Time

It is about that time of the year…
I have lost count of my age, oh dear.
Sometimes I wonder where the time has gone,
It is has been for so, very long.

I look back and think…
Boy, time has just flown by, in a wink.
It seems like yesterday I was just born,
I don’t feel any different inside, you know.

It’s this body of mine that distracts…
It is a little slower to react.
Oh, I stubbed my toe,
Wouldn’t you know.

I fall asleep at the computer…
Pressed on top of my lap top are my fingers.
I wake up, to my surprise,
There are words of a different kind.

My sacroiliac is tight…
It must be from sitting up all night.
Half way asleep in my recliner, oh my aching back,
Taking my cat naps with my two cats.

Didn’t get much sleep last night, a simple fact…
So, I thought I would stretch out the kinks in my back.
Took some time to pray,
And read my scriptures for the day.

What do we have in store for today, Dear Lord?
Life with it’s ins and outs, there is no doubt.
That when you get older,
We tend to lean a little more on God’s shoulder.

Life has its rhythm with each new heart beat...
We were born yesterday in our birthday suits, cheek to cheek.
We can find humor in our own little lives,
Which ends up at our age as “A Rhyme In Time”

Cinda M Carter

For the older one's out there who are having birthdays' in June and July...

" Have a Very, Very Blessed Birthday"  


May 19, 2014

Copyright © Cinda Carter | Year Posted 2014


Details | Humor Poem | |

Zombie The Musical

The town was all a flutter; Zombie the Musical, was coming to town.
We all signed up as extras… Yes, as Zombies… here we did come.
Bruce Willis was the hero, with the Mad Scientist Z, for all to blame.
Dragon wanted to be the hero, but became the Evil Z. OH! Poor Thing!
His penguins, the perfect zombies, chased across the screen, so berserk!
The director wanted his zombies to twitch, but all thought he said, twerk!

Someone turned on ‘Thriller’, and amid the music, things began to work.
The penguins were endearing, as they stole the show. Wouldn’t you know!
As they did the: step left, step right, Shuffle, shuffle, twerk, twerk, twerk!
Dragon flew on the set, but things got wonky, as the set, in flames, went up.
He crash-landed in the fire works, which scaring most the towns’ zombies off.
All was meant to be dark and scary, but naturally that came out, sooo wrong.

The witches decided to dig up zombies, for the flash mob scene, to work. 
The new zombies, did their own thing, chasing more town zombies away.
The witches got them from the cemetery, not telling those alive, today. 
Bruce Willis, by now, was really banged up, as he fought the zombies off.
Everyone knew something was so wrong when one bit Dragon in the butt.
Thank goodness that fricasseed Zombie, couldn’t bite thru Dragons Scales.

Well, everyone made a run for it…as the penguins steadfastly twerked on…
At this time, some say, the director was straight out seen, pulling out his hair.
He was yelling: Dumb Zombies need a brain! & They’d head to the cemetery… 
If  ‘they only had a brain!’ So someone added the song ‘If I only had a Brain’. 
The director wanted Die Hard, but got ‘Die Hard without a Brain’. Yeah, Way!
Tho some would simply end up calling it, ‘Die Hard to Twerk another Day’.

The director decided: if he couldn’t beat them, join them. Yes, he surely did!
With the ending credits Dragon twerked. Groan! For shame!  Nobody Look!
That’s when Bruce Willis called Chuck Norris to help round the Zombies up! 
The Zombies wouldn’t take their cues! Well, not, until, it was time to Twerk!
Then they all just joined in, as apparently a real Zombie…Can Indeed Twerk! 
They were all, finally sent home, with smiles upon their face. Uh... we think!

The witches put them back, by order of Chuck Norris, in any case! It’s True!
For a witch can mess with a director, but No One messes with Chuck Norris! 
What! You knew? And the after show party, with Chuck Norris, had such flair!
He even ask Dragon for an autograph… Now, Dragon’s head is in the air!

And Note: Not a single Zombie was hurt in the making of this musical…
          Though, many a one, did fall down, when Dragon flapped his wings.
          The fricasseed Zombie liked his suntan and new hair style, it seems!
Written By Carol Eastman 1-22-2015 

Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2015


Details | Humor Poem | |

Mr Sandman Send Me To Sleep

Mr. Sandman Send Me To Sleep


He came to me, he came by sea
Escaping, he would set me free
Sending me into dreams
Of starlight and moonbeams
The sandman made a beach for me


For contest: A clean limerick
Date: 11-11-2014

Copyright © Casarah Nance | Year Posted 2014


Details | Humor Poem | |

Politician Chops A Tomato In His Kitchen, Another Politician Sips Tea In His Second Kitchen

Politician chops a tomato
in his kitchen
Now he's chopping a lettuce
in his kitchen
He's saying things at the same time
in his kitchen

He's endowed with multi-skilled sets
Yes he must live in the real world I've guessed
He can chop a tomato
And then a lettuce
And talk at the same time
I've never chopped a lettuce in my life
in my kitchen
I have chopped a tomato though
But it wasn't in my kitchen
It was in someone else's
kitchen
It was a pretty weird situation
That pretty weird kitchen situation is for another poem
And probably one you won't want to read
if  I'm being honest
So I won't be honest..honest.

Well that tells us all we need to know
I'm convinced
I always wondered whether he could chop a tomato
in his kitchen
It's not easy at the best of times
You know that
I know that
Let's not pretend
And he did it all in front of the cameras
in his kitchen
Chopping a lettuce truly earns my respect
And should earn yours too
A man who can chop a lettuce and talk about not wanting to be prime minister for a third term
When he's still in his first
To think that far ahead
in his kitchen
While chopping a tomato
and then a lettuce
in his kitchen
Talking at the same time
in his kitchen
About not wanting to be prime minister for a third term
When he's still serving his first
That truly earns my respect
Like watching a marine punch a gazelle..

And regardless of whoever's kitchen I happen to be in
Were I to be in your kitchen for example
I would feel that same swell of admiration
And I promise I would never chop a tomato
in your kitchen
And definitely not a lettuce
Just in case you're wondering
I don't eat lettuce
And even if I did
I would never chop it in your kitchen
Even if I were to be in a really bad mood..

And here's another politician
This one is in his second kitchen
Conversing with his wife while drinking tea
in his second kitchen
I know that could never be me
I don't have a first wife and I don't have a second kitchen
(and I don't really sip tea for I'm an uncouth gulper
probably my Indian upbringing)
Thus I could never be a democratic socialist leader
Although I'd like to be
Who could believe in me
When I don't have a second kitchen to sip tea in
with a wife which I don't have
Listening attentively to my democratic socialist thoughts
While sipping tea which I wouldn't sip anyway
Being more of an uncouth gulper probably because of my Indian upbringing
in my second kitchen
which I also don't have..

To be that man who can sip tea so nonchalantly
Not even in his first kitchen
But in his second kitchen
The one that he's not used to sipping tea in
That's beyond the call of duty
So beyond you
And me
So who really lives in the real world
Well I think that's plain to see


http://sukispangles.blogspot.co.uk

Copyright © Suki Spangles | Year Posted 2015


Details | Humor Poem | |

Fussy Cat


Cat stirs
Then purrs

Yawn sigh
Makes cry

M e o w
Wants chow

Seeks dish
No fish

Canned food
Bad mood

Eyes stare
With glare

Stands still
To chill

No win
Gives in

At last
Eats fast

Next scene
Dish clean


© Sandra M. Haight 2015 
   All Rights Reserved

~1st Place~
Contest: Your Footle Poem
Sponsor: Judy Konos
Judged 04/07/2015


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Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2015


Details | Humor Poem | |

CHASING FOOTPRINTS

CHASING FOOTPRINTS

Some feet are bigger than others
none bigger than those
left by your brothers -
that you tried to fill.

The foot that Dad
would put “right up ‘ur arse”
and the one Mom said
you must put forward.

The meter and feet
we poetically treat
in attempt to conform
to rhythm and beat.

One foot we must
“take out of our mouth”,
while trying to get
“one foot in the door”.

Footprints that litter
the sands of our mind
that cannot be followed
by looking behind.

The foot of the stairs
the foot of the bed
the footsteps of night
the footsteps of dread.

Huge footprints of carbon
Al Gore and his ilk
charging the cows
for the grass to make milk.

One foot on the gas
One foot on the brake
one looking to give
one looking to take.

So don’t judge the size
or the depth of the root
nor measure the soul
by the size of the boot.

John G. Lawless 

submitted to – BIGFOOT (A Poet Destroyer contest)



Copyright © John lawless | Year Posted 2015