My passion’s crashin’
Enthusiasm spasmed
My heart’s no longer in it
I’m pure counterfeit
I’d rather be in jail
Call it betrayal…
But they trot me out, their annual thrill
Wish I were ill ~ punxsutawney phil
Spooning my love, my kin would be proud
But, we're beginning to draw a crowd
Our dog began to cry
Then our neighbor dropped by
If "Two's Company...then...Three's "Real" Loud!"
He'll save his cash
Digs grave ... tips ash
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“The rules are simple,” Wednesday whispers.
“Forget the kale, the quinoa, the virtuous calorie-free green misery.”
“Today, we bow to cocoa, the bean of pure delight.
A square, a bar, a molten river, bathing worries in warm light.”
“Eat chocolate, be happy. It’s less a suggestion, more a dare.
Try to frown with fudge smeared lips. You simply can't. Pinky swear!”
“Guilt? Maybe later. Right now, there's only chocolate,
and the profound understanding that sometimes, the answer is simply…
….more chocolate.
FLYING SQUIRREL
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Seth the squirrel was tired of leaping from tree to tree.
“My commute’s horrible! Got ta be a better way for me.”
Scampered to the toy store, bought toy bike from pal, Mike
Attached some balsa wood using Gorilla Glue. Wah la! He was birdlike.
Next day from hustle and bustle of commuter traffic, he happily did flee.
Unbeknownst to Seth, flying squirrels in open airspace don’t mix,
Ostracized Seth was—not a member of the flyer’s club, a squirrelish clique.
One day was almost hit by specially designed spy drones
‘twas Putin’s, for their black flags bore a skull and crossbones.
Fearing for his life, Seth sold his plane-bike on eBay, his flying days nixed.
("Rainbow Body" detail, 2018, original encaustic)
Today I noticed on a website I use for book reviews
All eight of my poetry books
Suddenly have a fresh new one star review.
Sadly though there is no content to these reviews
Nothing to sink my teeth into and learn from
Just a single star
Which simply means, “I hate it.”
But these are the first reviews or ratings
I have ever received in ten years now
Of publishing poems
So I will take it
Mostly because I have no choice.
It is a free world after all
And so if we engage with it
We shouldn’t be surprised
When it engages back.
The beauty of getting only one star reviews
Of course is it doesn’t get my hopes up
Hopes of becoming rich and famous
Influential and significant
Because I know, especially now,
None of that would be true.
(9/15/25)
THE CROWN JEWELS
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Queen Xena, a squirrel, was a female hoarder beyond measure,
for her crown jewels she surely did treasure.
she hid them in the kingdom’s storage locker
along with the fact that she was a punk rocker
The keys and her reputation were safe, safeguarded by her personal dresser.
Then it came to pass, surely you’ll gasp!
Xena’s jewels were lost, away from her claw-like grasp.
“Oh what’s become of my jewels, I’m coming undone.
I’ll find the perpetrator and shoot him with my pea gun.”
“Who’s the perp?” You just had to ask.
Eyewitnesses said, “The thief wore a black mask, was ‘big clawed.
We seen him scampering about the forest and the royal quad.”
At police headquarters, they wrote their statements
Xena filed an insurance claim, believing in suspect’s escapement.
Later texted her friend, the masked racoon. “No one suspects us of insurance fraud.”
The antique mechanism
of the old clock had stopped.
The winding should have been
enough -- and yet, though the
pendulum swung back in forth
in perfect rhythm, no comforting
clicks emanated, as was usual,
the reassuring pulse of a consistent
heartbeat, regulator of a healthy
household.
The big hand had paused, 2 minutes
of. I thought, was this an angel, come
to my aid, or a devil, seething more
terror, personifying the foul deed
about to fully unfold? She would be
here, at nine. No doubt, her obsession
with punctuality. 2 minutes till, the
fiend had bound me to a chair. Assembled
the deadly charge, painstakingly attached to the
clock. Gagged as well I had no way of warning her.
2 minutes till...no, 1:58, 1:57, the clock's
now deadly hand had begun to again
advance. I heard her key in the door.
One minute to detonation. The door squeaked
on neglected hinges. "Cut! All right, 10 minute
break" the directed informed us, after shooting
for 4 hours non-stop.
I am a mouse, I am I am
I am a mouse, I am
The sort you would surely kill
If you found me in your house.
I am a rat, I am I am
I am a rat, I am
Your voice would suddenly go shrill
If you found me in your hat.
SOUP TROUPE (CM)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
peer group, Soup group
write verse, scribe troop
Admittedly, I am a big klutz;
tripping and falling, it drives me nuts.
With my "two left feet",
I am no athlete,
but I'm willing to dance - it takes guts!
There was an old maid
There was an old maid in the square
Who tripped over her very long hair
She grabbed a street lamp
Performed a pole dance
And everyone gave her a cheer.
An old man was approaching the square
And he tripped while descending the stair
He did some cartwheels
Then tapped on his heels
Said Ginger, here’s your Fred Astaire.
STUMBLE AND RISE (Gravity and I)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A gala event, a minefield of hope and dread,
Winners announced, toward the stage were formally led.
My name was called; I tripped, planting my face on the floor,
Embarrassed was I, my ego damaged, my pride done for.
“Gravity and I are in a toxic relationship,” I said, my face turning red.
I tripped and stumbled over my big feet
While walking down a very crowded street.
With laughter I arose
Assumed a dancing pose
Then tripped the light fandango really neat.
HEADING FOR VENEZIA
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Young Syd, a squirrel with adventurous spirit most keen,
Bought 1925 roadster, a vintage touring machine.
With top down, tail flapping in the breeze,
The goddess of freedom he was sure to appease.
Popular was he, once featured in ‘Roadster Fanzine.’
Oh how Syd loved the roadster’s crushed velvet seats
Sinking in them as he raced down the city streets.
Waves to all the she-squirrels, feeling outta sight
Spends his dough dancing with them on Saturday nights.
Low on cash, Syd uses his roadster delivering food for UberEATS
That’s when he meets the she-squirrel named Aretha,
a singing diva who always orders lots of pepperoni pizza.
*Oh these city streets move way too slow, don’t you know.
Let’s go riding on the freeway! Drop the pedal, Syd. Go, go, go!
So they cruise onto better-than-ever street heading straight for Venezia.
Specific Types of Humorous Poems
Read wonderful humorous poetry on the following sub-topics:
adults, birthday, christmas, death, friends, friendship, graduation, kids, life, love, middle school, rhyme, school, silly, teachers
and more.
Definition | What is Humorous in Poetry?
Poems Related to Humorous
amusing, comic, entertaining, facetious, funny, hilarious, joke, joking, laugh, laughing, ludicrous, merry, playful, pleasant, priceless, side splitting, witty, whimsical