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Best Parody Poems

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

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New Parody Poems

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

Haiku: Parody 1 - Echo Poem by Johnston, Brian
Old Jake the Critter Lover-A Parody by Henderson, Charles
The Boar of Dumm - a Jabberwocky parody by Writer, Amice
Weaving Forms- A Parody by Cheema, Balveen
Nacho Man VILLAGE PEOPLE Macho Man Short Parody by Cottrell, James
PARODY OF FLANDERS AND SWANN by ALLISON, JAN
Monday's Child - Parody by Sollis, David
The 23rd Parody by Crane, Loch David
shakespeare parody 2k14 by Carlin, Isabel
Educational Philosophy Parody on Theme for English B by Martinez, Charleen

View all new Parody Poems

The Best Parody Poems

Details | Parody Poem | |

Redneck Santa

T'were the night after Christmas, 'n' the house was all dark.
Not much money for 'lectric in the ol' trailer park.
Ma waitin' tables at the club on the base,
jist me and my sisters alone in the place.

A big ol' blue norther, t'were a hard winter storm.
We's all snuggled up close, jist tryin' ta stay warm.
The trailer's as cold as a well digger's ass,
cause they come out that mornin' and turnt off the gas.

I shore kinda hated to git out of that bed,
but ol' Mother Nature made me git up, instead.
I'd gotta go out if I wanted a leak,
'cause the toilet had bin all plugged up fer a week.

Outside it 'peered warmer, which was a suprise.
As I peed on the tree, sumpin lit up the skies.
Them lights shined down on the yard, and I froze.
Shore prayed it warn't one of them weird UFO's.

As I stood thar turnin' round and around
there was white stuff fallin' and coatin' the ground.
I grabbed a big buncha it up in my mitts.
I thought it was snow, but turnt out it were grits.

I heared a big motor runnin' up overhead
and down come a monster truck painted all red.
It bounced on the front 'n' bounced on the back,
then the driver clumb down 'n' grabbed a tow sack.

He was white-haired 'n' husky, with red overalls,
long ZZ Top whiskers 'n' blood-shot eyeballs.
A red John Deere work cap was perched on his nut
and a WalMart white T-shirt half-covered his gut.

He look like he just come off'n the farm,
'cept fer them tattoos of elves on his arm.
As I stood around there jist like a complete dick,
he says, “Boy ain't you gonna say crap to St. Nick?”

“Yes siree Bob”, says I, “I got sumpin to say.
I'd shore like ta know where you was yesterday.
The toilet's stopped up and we's all out of heat,
ain't got no money and they's nuthin' to eat.”

“I was fixin' ta make it on time”, he then said.
He look kinda sheepish, and hung down his head.
“But I stopped at a bar when I finished my rounds.
And run inna St. Paddy at the Hare 'n' the Hounds."

"Ya know that he's the very best pal of St. Nick.
But there's none who can put 'em away like that Mick.
And the next thing ya know, we's over at Chances
Where that Tooth Fairy is doin' ten-dollar lap dances.”

“The Tooth Fairy a stripper? That done give me the chills!”
“Yessir”, says he, “Where ya think she gits all them bills?”
“Jist a minute”, I goes. “Where's the reindeer and sleigh?”
He turnt even redder, and then looked away.

“Well, we had a poker game goin', I thought I would win.
I was holdin' four aces and bet everthang in.”
There was a palpable silence, a terrible hush.
“Then that damn Easter Bunny laid down a straight flush.”

“Well, I cut cards with a redneck and won me that truck
But as for the reindeer, they was squat outta luck
They throwed a big barbeque, and cooked 'em up slow
But I must say them reindeer's good eatin', ya know?”

No Dasher, no Dancer, no Prancer and Vixen!
No Comet, no Cupid, no Donner and Blitzen!
For hung on that red-painted monster truck's nose
was eight pairs of antlers, lined up in two rows.

“Anyway, I brung vittles for you and the girls.”
And out of the sack he pulled seven skint squirrels.
“I jist bagged 'em thar in yer neighbor's back yard
Fry 'em up well, boy, with plenty of lard.”

I goes, “Them squirrels is rilly fine eatin' fer shore,
But ta git past tomorrow, we's gonna need more.”
says he,“Well, I's a bit short on cash fer today.”
And he give me six lottery numbers to play.

Then up drives my ma with bad blood in her eye
Draws out her six-shooter, jist primed to let fly.
Then lowers her arm down and commences to bawl
says, “I love you, you bastard, you tol' me you'd call!”

He says, “Boy, looks like it's not healthy to linger
Sticks his mitt out 'n' goes “Just pull on my finger.
The truck is fer you, son. I bid ya goodnight.”
And on a column of wind, he plumb riz out of sight.

I feels fevered and flushed as I stands there in awe
And I reckons this redneck St. Nick was my paw.
A voice far-off hollers, “Merry Christmas, now, y'all!
Then adds, “Don't fret none baby, jist wait fer my call!”

P.S. Them lottery numbers worked out good. We
bought a double-wide on our own lot 'n' a giant
TV and had still had lots of money left over fer
me to go to big rig truck driving school and Ma
to that there beauty college. And on top of that
a Nigerian guy is going to deposit over a million
dollars in my bank account. 

Copyright © Roy Jerden | Year Posted 2013


Details | Parody Poem | |

The Fable of the Fox and Goose

 There once was a fox, as wise as can be,
 He lived in the hollow of an old oak tree.
 Not so very far from an ol’ Farmer’s Farm;
 A farmer he knew would do him great harm.

 Also, on that farm lived a lively young goose,
 And he caused the fox’s dry mouth to juice.
 Without a care, the goose gandered about,
 Causing the fox great apprehension, no doubt.

 One day they met at the edge of the farm:
 The goose knew, for sure, the fox meant him harm.
 Mr. Fox, I know you can eat me, he said,
 But, I know a better way you can be fed.

 The farmer has many an egg you can eat,
 and they are more juicy than feathery meat.
 I’ll tell you just how to gain your supply;
 as quick as a wink, or the blink of an eye.

 The farmer is rich and he doesn’t have need
 for all of his wealth, and all of his greed.
 We poor of the earth, he cares not about:
 We should take eggs from the lecherous lout.

 Sure, he feeds us, and quite well in fact,
 But he profits from the sweat of our back.
 We animals are brothers, and should take heed
 About each others wants and each others need.

 You can sneak around by the ol’ mill gate,
 while I distract the hound, down by the lake.
 His threat to you I shall circumvent,
 and you can then eat to your hearts content.

 The sly ol’ fox, he surmised this odd tale:
 Hen’s eggs were delicious, he knew quite well.
 Oh, this we will do, he quickly agreed:
 Eggs, he knew, were quite delicious indeed.

 So, the goose set off, the hound to distract,
 And also the fox, to the mill gate out back.
 But, the goose had another plan in his mind;
 A problem solution of a far different kind.

 He enlisted the hound in his subversive trick,
 To solve the fox dilemma finally and quick.
 He sent the hound round to the ol’ mill gate,
 Leaving himself to just piddle and wait.

 Then suddenly upon him with claw and tooth
 Pounced the fox, ‘fore he could honk or hoot.
 In this moral lesson we all can deduce,
 Why no-one says: “he’s as sly as a goose”.

The SLY fox knew: “If the goose would betray 
 the farmer that feeds him, he will betray me too.”
Lionel

Copyright © Lionel Ledbetter | Year Posted 2013


Details | Parody Poem | |

From My Window Lofty High

From my window lofty high
I sit and watch the passersby 
Safely from within the womb
Of this quiet and private room
That's my asylum in the sky
And, I imagine...

From the safety of my perch
Above the elm, the oak, and birch
Alone, I slowly drift through life
Exempt from conflict, chance, or strife
Away from any harmful search
And, I imagine...

From my pinnacle of peace
Much like the eagle, lark, and geese
I wrap myself in solitude
Safely from the multitudes
And their evils that never cease
And, I imagine...

I imagine a world of peace and good
With people living as people should
A world glowing with brotherly love
That's flowing down from God above
With all faiths tolerantly understood
But then...

From my window lofty high
I'm left alone to wonder why
Why the world became so cold
And, why compassion can't unfold
Out there perhaps a soul could try
But here alone,
                     ...I can only imagine.


                                            Timothy I. Brumley

Copyright © Timothy Brumley | Year Posted 2011


Details | Parody Poem | |

A Modern Curse

I do not like your mobile phone. I do not like its ringing tone. I do not like it here nor there; I do not like it any where. I do not like it on a plane, nor when I’m on a crowded train; not in a bus, not in a car, not even in a crowded bar. I do not want to hear it ping or, even worse, Madonna sing. I do not like the sound of pop; that wretched noise has got to stop. So let me make this mighty clear, your phone, I do not want to hear. And, should it ever start to ring, I’ll come and smash the wretched thing. ~
'On the Loose' Contest for G.Rix

Copyright © Charles Clive | Year Posted 2012


Details | Parody Poem | |

Mario and Luigi: The Untold Story

(Submitted to Heather's Famous Couples/Duos contest. I hope you all like!)  :)

“Save me, Mario & Luigi!”

As they both read the Princess’ distress call,
Written in dark cherry lipstick on his walls
“Mama-Mia, I just painted this damn thing”, Luigi whined.

They ride off into smiling clouds’ horizon
Knocking out hopeless Goombas & misunderstood Turtle shells
Rapidly exhaled hustles over flagpoles and grassy valleys
To see who will capture her 1st kiss...and NOTHING MORE

Towards that immense castle in the sky,
They climbed against its walls like two dogs in heat for the 1st time

Into un-screened window archways, they dive in
Their eyes stare threateningly against the Dinosaur-Lizard cross-breed reject

Mario & Luigi begin dropping mushrooms to see stars and taste invincibility.

But, like this battle, it only lasted 10 seconds!

For out from the Onyx darkness, a new hero emerged
Green, not with envy, but of Greek god magnificence
And a strut that would make a pole dancer jealous

He struck down with such brute force, tearing down the gates of Heaven & Hell
Jesus & Lucifer were pissed

It was Yoshi the dinosaur!

With one fell swoop & a high pitched Braveheart-style cry,
He starts dropping eggs like he’s been ovulating for days
Tossing them with such focus & epic awesomeness against his enemies
Knocking them down one by one

He gracefully sweeps up the Princess, staring down towards his enemies
In a condescendingly lifted face, places an old-school Boombox on the ground
With loud decibels of MJ’s “Don’t stop ‘til you get enough!”,
Yoshi pulls out & drops the mic, embracing gravity’s last word

The Princess devilishly smiles at her new green hero and rides him into the sunset.

Game over.

©Drake J. Eszes

Copyright © Drake Eszes | Year Posted 2013


Details | Parody Poem | |

Nihilist

Farcical, extravagant 
My birthmark is a scar 
A speckled blotch ...
A spot of pox 
An icon from afar 

I'm an upstart, I'm an eyesore 
Ranting with a flair
In a tempest, I'm a rabid bird 
Setting fire to the air 

As dauntless as a hellhag 
Unmoved by love or care 
I can hold up in a cyclone 
Feasting on your fear 

I'm your last hope 
As a laughingstock 
I'm your courage in a dare 
As audacious as a terrorist 
With death-defying hair 

When it's time to play the tragic fool 
I'm as flagrant as a glare 
Seething with a vengeance
In a tantrum of despair

Written by © Raven Drake




Copyright © Raven Drake | Year Posted 2014


Details | Parody Poem | |

Raindrops

Raindrops
are like my thoughts
falling down into my mind
sending goose bumps down
my spine

Their cool aftermath
cleanses me of my thoughts
of fear and uncertainty 
about what tomorrows
pain may bring

They make me feel,
wet with creativity
drenched in my optimistic
illumination. glistening
raindrops, my thoughts
leave paths of pleasurable
distress, and hope of success
which road, less traveled
may be the best

Forget an umbrella
when these raindrops
arrive, I walk outside
arms open wide

Ready to Receive
whatever
the mind storm may bring
because raindrops are
as my thoughts, falling
down into my mind
sending shivers down
my spine

My brain, yearns
for the rain, to wash away
the pain, tomorrows worry
does bring
One special drop
could speed up life's clock
to the time
I can handle my own
and not dwell inside my controllers
home

For raindrops are,
like my thoughts
falling down into my mind
sending goose bumps
down my spine

Copyright © Heather Hill | Year Posted 2010


Details | Parody Poem | |

80 Proof Nights

A foggy Cuervo morning
I crawl out of my bed
Stagger to the bathroom
With a pounding in my head

It’s just another Sunday
Things can’t get much worse
I think i’ll write a poem
Yes, another drunken verse

Tiny glass of 80 proof
What courage you gave me
To dance upon a table
While crooning karaoke

I truly thought that I could sing
I could hear the people cheer
Then I lost my footing
And fell right on my rear

Now falling off of tables
Isn't really all that dumb
Cause I got such a chuckle
Telling everyone to kiss my bum

I kissed a man I didn’t know
You think that’s absurd
Well his wife was rather angry
When I flipped her the big ol bird

When Jose takes control of me
I have no pride or shame
Doesnt really matter much
Cause no one knows my name

I drank until the wee hours
Things were going great
Until that final shot of gold
That sealed my eveings fate

I spent some time talking
On a ice cold porceline phone
If I survive this night
Tomorrow I will atone

Well today is tomorrow
So forgive me for my sin
Never again will I drink tequila
Instead I’m drinking gin

Copyright © Dawn Drickman | Year Posted 2005


Details | Parody Poem | |

Star Trek and Captain Kirk's Final Frontier

Kirk: ‘Lt. Uhura, come to my quarters at 1800 hours’
Uhura: ‘Yes captain, might I ask what’s up?’
Kirk: ‘Nothing now but something WILL be at 1800 hours’
Bones: ‘Jim, is this a medical issue?’
Kirk: ‘You bet your boner it is, Bones’
Sulu: ‘Captain, a Klingon ship is approaching’
Kirk:  ‘Blast that sucker to smithereens, I got a date’
Chekov: ‘Captain, you’ll need protection on this mission’
Kirk: No problem Ensign, got a few here in my wallet’

Obi-Wan Kenobi: ‘May the force be with you’
Kirk:’ Thanks Obi, but you’re in the wrong contest’
Obi-Wan Kenobi: ‘This isn’t PD’s contest?’
Kirk: ‘HELL no, now SKAT will probably disqualify us’
Obi-Wan Kenobi: ‘Well, may the force be with you anyway’
Kirk: ‘Look Kenobi, nobody’s forcing ANYBODY here’

Spock: ‘Captain, I’m receiving a message from SKATfleet Command’
Kirk: ‘What Mr. Spock? And why do you always talk like that?’
Spock: ‘To qualify for the contest, the writer has to command the ship’
Kirk: ‘Damn it all! What the…FRONT AND CENTER WRITER!’
Writer: ‘Um…All hands on deck?...Anchors away?’

Uhura: ‘Ohh Captain KIRRK, it’s 1800 hours’…
Kirk: ‘Not now Uhura, I’m not in the mood!’
Uhura: Ohh Captain WRITERRR, it’s 1800 hours’…
Writer: ‘Kirk, you have the helm. I’ll be in my quarters’ 
Spock: ‘Fascinating’
Kirk: ‘Shut-up Spock’…

Tim Ryerson
Theme: Sexual harassment in the workplace
For SKAT’s contest

Copyright © Tim Ryerson | Year Posted 2013


Details | Parody Poem | |

I'm Dreaming of a New Body

Parody of the Xmas Song: White Christmas


I'm dreaming of a new body
with every chocolate I unwrap.
But I can't stop eating, I can't stop cheating. 
There's just too many Christmas snacks.
My nightmare is a pot belly -with every Christmas treat I take. 
But I can't stop feasting, my size increasing;
when I stand on the scales they'll break.
Yes, I'm dreaming of a trim waistline, 
so take that chex mix from my face.
May my buns be smaller and flat,
 and may all my body lose its fat!

(I no longer make my traditional chex mix and
many candies I used to cook for the  holidays!~)

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2011


Details | Parody 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 | Parody Poem | |

Sweet Suburbia

Driving down the street,
sweet suburbia exhales,
scents of butter pecans
and apple blossoms penetrate the wind,
but secrets hide behind this serene atmosphere.

Momma's passed out on the couch,
Jack's become her best friend.
She has numbed out the pain around her,
rejects the truth.

Bobby loves his gun,
he knows how to make it all come to an end.
One day he'll have the courage,
and take everyone else with him.

Suzy hides in her closet,
she doesn't want daddy to find her,
have his ways like he does.
She just wants to fade away and die.

Papa's working late,
thinking of his sweet desert,
no one knows the world he creates,
while he pushes reality away.

Mittens sits in the windowsill,
watches the strangers pass by,
his tail twitching back and forth,
the only thing that knows the truth behind the doors.

While the house silently cries,
the world will still drive by.
Smell the sweetness in the wind,
be hypnotized,
by a sweet suburban lie.

Copyright © Louise Picek | Year Posted 2008


Details | Parody Poem | |

Pondering

As I ponder my weak bladder, you see.
I travel around the corner from thee.
Be careful if around the corner you go.
Please for your sake, watch for yellow snow.

Copyright © cecil hickman | Year Posted 2007


Details | Parody Poem | |

Slouching Toward Ferguson

His life was gentle, and the elements
so mixed in him that Nature might stand up and
smolder

bodies in unregistered cars idling softly toward oblivion

some quick to anger
some quick to profit
some quick for justice
some tigers lapping blood
some mothers still at 3AM

hands on shoulders with coos commanding
that in a tear and turned cheek there be 'integration'

parody: an orphan annie reboot
parody: 'little black sambo 'round the tiger pit he go!'

we have rioted the last of our colors
bleated them with flexed toes to the wall at the edge of the universe to reverberate starless between
eternity
nothing
and madness

we have bleated the last of our colors
with centuries gone by without tongue, sockets or lobes

we will bleed the last of our colors
some quick to die
some quick to steal
some quick to burn
some quick to 

lend me your car keys

in a night of full of Alarics
I will bury you

in a night full of piccaninnies
I will melt you to butter

in a night where flames are fishhooks
Sir I need you to step back please

O, pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth,
that
we have cried Havoc
let slip
and with purple'd prose stamped this hollowed earth

We who have lived so long
Sir?
shall with our breath turned mist
I need you to
stain only under stones
step
that pave with slippery breath
back
a headline for last weeks massacre
step
and tomorrow's graves
I need you to
I drew a line in the sand and you crossed it They are not breathing
Look! Look there!
No. I will not.
He dies

Copyright © Brooks Lindberg | Year Posted 2014


Details | Parody Poem | |

Recycle

The grasshopper left the corn
For the dawn of the baobab tree
The elders brought flowers
For the floor of the ages past
And the door of ages to come
Grasshopper's heart stridulated
In awe. Its mandibles move
To shred its doubt in questions.

The elders stood silent
Before the open palm spooning
The eyes for a taste of wisdom:
"Patience," said the elders.
The elders ears buzzed 
With the sounds of futile wings
Longing for the flight of freedom
"Grow your conscience," spoke
The elders in the morning smoke
Of dew where the heart
Of flora and fauna is burning.

And I was left nothing there
But corn blades bitten bare
To the ground, and a path
Through the desert sands of wrath
That beckons me to where
I will sit in the elders' chair
Weaving syllables out of air
And searching for reason
Beside the stillness of the heart.
I am the recycled question
Waiting for answer in a flower's
Bed sown with eyes of treason.

Copyright © L'nass Shango | Year Posted 2009


Details | Parody Poem | |

Spoonerism Poetry: She's Too Titty

She’s too titty to be a preacher.
She can’t even bead a rook.
A rental deceptionist?  Maybe.
At my teeth she once look a took.

As a wean clerker, she’ll never do.
I once caught her nicking her pose.
She doesn’t even hash her wands.
And she chews the tails off her nose!

For this lad sass, I see joe knob.
No mouse or honey has she.
Her life has not one pun fart!
I’m glow sad I’m shot knee.

Written march 25, 2016 for the Contest of Roy Jerden

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2016


Details | Parody Poem | |

TROLIUS TROLL

Remember the story 
of Billy Goats Gruff?
The troll under the bridge,
and all of that stuff?
If you liked that old story
it's all good and well,
but it isn't at all 
the troll tale I will tell.

Now, Trolius Troll 
was a timorous soul;
A more timid troll
you never shall see.
He lived in a hole 
in the base of the bole,
(that is, the trunk) 
of a turpentine tree.  
                                    
Young Trolius Troll, 
I ask you to note,
is a strict vegetarian; 
he does not eat goat.
You might not believe me,
but, begging your pardon,
he eats only produce
from his vegetable garden.

One day, after harvesting 
some of his crop,
with a basket of turnips,
with some carrots on top, 
he strode up the path, 
just as proud as could be,
toward his home in the trunk 
of the turpentine tree.
                                    
Then, outside the door
of his pine tree abode,
was a sight that made
Trolius Troll drop his load.
There, with a chainsaw 
and a double-bit ax,
stood a brawny, black bearded, 
blue eyed lumberjack.
                                    
With his feet wide apart 
on the green, grassy ground,
the lumberjack looked 
the troll's tree up and down--
Then, laying the ax 
on a moist, mossy bank,
he gave the saw's start rope 
a sudden, sharp yank.

With a white puff of smoke 
and an ear splitting sound,
the saw shattered the silence 
for acres around.
The lumberjack stepped 
to the tree's sturdy base
with a smile of delight 
on his black-bearded face.
                                      
Then, the usually timorous
troll gave a shout,
and, pounding his chest,
he went leaping about.
With a wild snarl of rage 
and a blood chilling wail,
the once timid Trolius 
charged up the trail.
                                    
The brave lumberjack 
was stricken with awe.
He turned from the tree, 
and dropped the chain saw.
Through the ferns and the bushes 
the tree feller ran.
and he never returned 
to the forest again.
                                  
And so ends a story,
that some might find droll,
of a timid and timorous
tree dwelling troll.                             
But its message is clear,
it’s as clear as can be:  
You may monkey about with Trolius, friend,  
but you’d better not mess with his tree.

Copyright © William Robinson | Year Posted 2005


Details | Parody Poem | |

Fruit Loops

You know we’re very poor, of that we have certainly, never denied.
Then the ‘Obama-I-don’t-Care’ gave us another whammy, Yes, indeed! Oh My!
Now, it’s Peanut butter we will have for supper, and even that we’ll spread thin.
And the little birdies we gave a cup of bird seed, occasionally, when we dared…

Well, this morning they got a handfull of Fruit Loops, and they were really stale!
With the sugar they have in galore, now birdies are doing cartwheels at my door.
All that crazy energy, they’re acting just like my kids. Hey! Is that my old phone?
They’re texting wildly! Not watching where they go! Hey! There’s a tree! Oh No!

Some are doing cartwheels… While others are staggering back and forth!
But bird seeds not an option, under Obamas new plan, now! Don’t you know!
We ate it all last week, on our free cheese, from the Food Pantry, Not! A! Joke!
He was supposed to make it affordable, now he put food… WAY out the door!

Hey! We WERE the poor ones! Now we’re worse, as he runs away! By Darn!
OOOPPPS! Maybe Fruit Loops weren’t such a good idea, after all, I surmise!
The Dirty Birdies, are walking upside down, in circles, saying they want more!
If only they had hands! I’d get out my camera, but I hocked it, for the food store!

We had good insurance before the ‘Obama-I-Don’t-Care’! But Now it’s gone…
And our small paycheck was cut in half! So I stopped my cable!… Well, Darn!
Hubby walks miles to work, in the snow, backwards, no shoes, uphill! It’s true!

Excuse me! I have to go! For it’s off to the Food Pantry, with others I am bound!
I’d impeach that silly idiot! But I’d rather, he had to eat, just like us, at our house!
Hey! Maybe that explains his crazy actions… Take his Fruit Loops away, By Gosh!
And when you’re done, make sure he uses the same ‘Obama-I-Don’t-Care’… As us!

Then take away that raise from Congress… to fill the Food Pantries… Yea! I SAY!
When you’re done! Remember to vote Them ALL OUT! For what they have done today!
Then send them Dumpster Diving with me… Because they’ll need to learn the art!
Darn! What Now? Oh Oh! Those little Dirty Birdies… Have learned how to fart!

Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2014


Details | Parody Poem | |

Twerked

On the park bench in the starkness of a city facing darkness,
I was drinking, feeling tipsy, working on some poetry.
Close by me was something lurking; suddenly it started jerking,
and it seemed that it was *twerking!, How could I write poetry?
“Will you stop!” I fairly bellowed, “I am writing poetry!”
But it jerked incessantly.

I was reaching now my limit, but it acted like a dimwit,
covered up by nearby bushes. What it was I had to see!
Though the thing was well in my sight, how I wish I had a flash light,
for it had become a dark night, and this thing was close by me!
Poetry was fleeing from me. This thing was too close by me,
and it twerked incessantly.

I could see the bushes moving. It was like the thing was grooving.
But to what could it be grooving with no beat or melody?
What it heard, I was not hearing; in the shadows I sat peering
wondering if it was leering. How could I write poetry
if that thing was leering at me as I wrote my poetry?
It just jerked incessantly.

Though my heart was filled with such dread, boldly I spoke up and I said,
“You there, like some kind of pervert, just how crazy can you be?
Show yourself. Why are you irking me, like Miley Cyrus twerking
in the bushes where you’re lurking oh so close by me?
But the figure uttered nothing though it was so close by me
twerking on incessantly.

Finally I got much bolder. Getting up, I walked right over
to those bushes where the figure hid. I had to see!
What I saw in New York City in that park was not too pretty!
And for me it was a pity, it destroyed my poetry, 
For I’m finding out now when I want to write more poetry
it flows not incessantly.

In my mind it stays forever. Will it ever leave? No, never.
What I saw still haunts me when I try to write my poetry.
I just see that creature lurking in the bushes ever jerking
with its tiny butt a ‘twerking. What an ugly creepy monkey
Why the heck can’t I forget the sight of that dumb monkey
twerking there incessantly?!

*If you don't know what twerking is (one poet didn't) see About this Poem for the link!
(A parody on The Raven, trying to use the same meter and line length of Poe's poem. My apologies if I veered too far off course in how it inspired me!!)

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2014


Details | Parody Poem | |

In a Crazy Zombie World

(If you know the song, Winter Wonderland, 
try singing the words of this to that tune!)

Zombies move, but seem vapid,
and their walk is not rapid.
But they love to eat;
If caught, you’re dead meat
living in a crazy Zombie world.

Zombies groan, for they’re lusting
for live flesh, so disgusting.
To let one get near
you’ll understand fear
living in a crazy Zombie world.

If you’re bitten, you will get a fever.
Maybe you’ll appear as if you’re dead.
But if you don’t relish being stinky,
just have your buddies shoot you in the head!

Form a group; find good shelter.
Everything’s helter skelter.
You have to be smart 
and have a brave heart
living in a crazy Zombie world.

Written 10/19/13 
for Leonora's Halloween Poem Contest 
Now for the the Halloween (old poems)Poetry Contest of Linda (PD)

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2013


Details | Parody Poem | |

Proempoem

 Proempoem 
Proempoem

CharlaXFabels

Beginners Luck

Tatterdemalion

SeventyF

 Over 1000 poems and now seventy eye have been searching for a definition of 
mye stYle
a rendition if you will of a different simpler time
a fabel maker a story teller not just a robot

You have a unique voice, like natural speaking.

this was given me today at your website
thank you very many fables made in a certain style of accomplishment 
the proctor and the related at my home planet were elated and they did not sleep 
last nite in anticipation of this antiquation to be delivered by the eye this old 
fashioned smith and Wesson oiled typewriter is so old it makes a dot between 
each word thank GOD it does not translate to the pages but the missing pieces 
of the spacecraft have now been found and tagged. The people of this  village 
think that eye am just old homeless and so eye can carry on surveillance of the 
public eye become a new Jim Dandy very handy with a pen and with a keyboard 
flowing thoughts upon the word a document of sponging taking all eye have to 
give her she gives something in return she keeps almost every word and turns 
the pages in my future book with just a look in my direction and a genuflection 
and a big reminisce The Lifer he is so avid of a fan a clear cut game boy game 
man he roots for roots and never makes a mental happy statement he is so self 
centered the quarter back is sacked and carried off the field and his sarcastic 
friend says He died he up and died just to see what the LIFER will now say and 
this is what the Lifer says about the dead quarterback. He just can’t do that he 
can’t do this to me we have a third quarter coming up the ball is stuck in 
centerfield without the quarterback to carry it to third base then we aer ruined he 
just can’t do this unto me and while he blubbers while he cries his friend moves 
away just out of sight and he the friend is now muttering this thought so dumb 
eye did not knoe that my friend JOE was so dang dumb as to confuse the game 
of hockey with baseball no its football with a quarterback not hockey what is 
wrong with me I’m almost bad as him eye had way too many beers today please 
take me to the gym and let me play with tying socks in knots and slamming 
locker doors before the next quarter comes and they carry one more quarter back 
away. Joe is so dang dumb.

Copyright © charles hice | Year Posted 2008


Details | Parody Poem | |

A Brutally Honest Valentine's

My darling enigma, my dove   
You’re the epitome of my love
Your smile shines at me pearly white      
Pale skin shines and glints in the light       
Silken locks, obsidian flow
Eyes just like ice, crystalline glow        
Peals of laughter ring like a bell            
Enchant me; I’m under your spell    
You walk with a musical flow
Tiptoeing with softness through snow

But, alas, you open your mouth
Utter tripe spilling out
If only you’d keep your mouth shut.

(Love from Anonymous) 

Copyright © Laura Hannan | Year Posted 2008


Details | Parody Poem | |

SATAN OSCILLATE MY METALLIC SONATAS

*****To the naked EYE, this poem may seem like gibberish,
but I assure you it is loaded with 24 palindromes,
3 palindrome phrases, 1 hidden palindrome phrase,
and is chock full with enormous wordplay...
oh and one more palindrome in this description. 
Can you find more? I challenge you word freaks!*****


____SATAN OSCILLATE MY METALLIC SONATAS____

Last night, around eleven or so, I decided to paint a pink castle.
To my dismay, on display, is what looks more like a pink asshole.
Picasso would've been so proud!
Today, upon recording nothing short of a colossal debacle,
I've chosen to
utilize the eyes of a hostile apostle.
Tossing docile scribble, I'm scribing.
Describing life like a diatribe conniving REVIVER at a revival.

LIVE EVIL!

Palindrome EYE to the side of my tribe.
Get in line, standing at the hands of HANNA.

PULL UP.

RISE AND VOTE SIR!

EYE
LEVEL 
to 
NUN'S
BOOB.

WOW!

We OTTO-matically 
POP a PEEP at NOON!
DAD got so damn mad he DID the DEED
and split three XANAX with his MADAM and MOM!
(ALA the ABBA GIG way back in them AHA kookie KOOK days)

So anyways...
Back to peek hassle!
Do ya' think he might like ta' take a stab at my STATS?


*****(this was fun as fun can be:
hope you have half as much fun with it as I did:)*****

~JSLambert

Copyright © JSLambert Mister ROBOTO | Year Posted 2014


Details | Parody Poem | |

Zebra

Allow altruistic artistry among ailing american adversaries.
Bartering begins before begging beasts break brothers.
Capture calamity controlling catastrophe calming castration.
Dedicate decisions directed down dreary deaf disillusionment.
Eradicate equality earning efficient energetic epiphany.
Follow fallen foreigners forgetting faithful flight from fluid folly.
Gasping greatness growing grapes given golden goodness.
Halt hollow hearts hearing helpless happiness.
Imagine impurity imitating indestructible ice inflicting impotent illness.
Justify jolly jerusalem jingling janitors joining january’s jewelry.
Kill kindergarten kings kicking kindly kindred kilts.
Lament likeable links lingering lowly light like lavender letters.
Mount monetary moments melting motherly marshal monuments.
Negate nightly notions noticing nurtured naughty nakedness.
Open oblivious obligation of odd operative oceans.
Propagate proposed premonitions producing proud pirate papas.
Quiet quilted questions quickly quoting quaint qualm quandary.
Remember righteous royalty returning rotten remnant rage.
Skip silent sulking surrounding super salty sounds squeezing sanity.
Teach talented tearful tyrants total trivial topics training treason.
Utter utopian universality upon united unitarian usurpers.
Violate vermin validity valuing victorious vomiting virgin volunteers.
Wash wandering women wondering whether western whiteness welcomes war.
X-ray xeric xenophobic xylem-made xebec.
Yearn yellow yearlings yelling yonder yuletide yachtsmen.
Zebra.

Copyright © Justin Presson | Year Posted 2007


Details | Parody Poem | |

Obsessed with flat

It's funny
How did a computer
A silly computer
A flat screened computer
Become my obsession?
I wake up
There it is
Waiting
Begging 
Inticing
"Turn me on"
"play with my buttons"

I look at the bright screen
Remembering the Poltergeist warning
"Don't go into the light"
But it's so pretty!
I'm sure I'll be alright 

Eyes see
Pupils dilate
Pulse quickens
As my fingers tap feverishly on keys
Traveling to different places with ease
Wondering
Who else sees 
Images like these
Hers and hims and other me..s
Infected by their computer disease

Friends I connect with
Around the clock
Ticking while I'm talking
And wrestling with a sock
Late for work again
What a shock

A cup of coffee 
on the keyboard spilled
My glowing obsession 
is sadly killed
Emotional me
With remorse I'm filled
Then I pause until I'm chilled

I reach for my smart phone
Thankfuly I'm OK
I can keep in touch anyway
Here in my pocket
I have a way to play
A portable flat screened obsession
I can access night and day!

For Carol's Computer Contest.







Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2015