Funny Dark Poems | Funny Poems About Dark

These Funny Dark poems are examples of Funny poems about Dark. These are the best examples of Funny Dark poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Rhyme |

Ahoy There - Out Of My Way

'Twas a dark and stormy night on that dark and stormy night!
HMS Blunderbuss plied the billowing seas just off the Isle of Wight!
Able Seaman Steer manned the helm when dead ahead he saw the light!
He woke the snoozing Officer of the Deck to apprise him of their plight!

Captain Ironbottom (who happened to be in the 'head') was duly alerted!
He dashed to the bridge in his drawers to ensure that disaster was averted!
"By jove!" he cried, "Her Majesty's ships turn aside for no one, I say!"
He grabbed the radio, "Ahoy there! Turn east 15 degrees! Out of my way!"

From out of the ozone a voice retorted, "Suggest you turn west 15 degrees!
I'll not change course for anyone, so heed my warning if you please!"
"This is Captain Ironbottom of the HMS Blunderbuss!" he thundered back!
"I know the rules of the road! Turn now or I'll see you hung from the rack!"

Able Seaman Steers' eyes grew as large as saucers knowing not what to do!
Communication between the captain and the mysterious light was turning blue!
As the distance narrowed between them, neither would give a nautical mile!
The white-knuckled Officer of the Deck was turning pale with a sickly smile!

"This is Captain Ironbottom again!  Are you challenging Her Majesty's might?"
"Yes sir" was the reply, "You see, this is the light house on the Isle of Wight!"
Today the mighty HMS Blunderbuss rusts upon the Isle of Wight's rocky shoal.
Captain Ironbottom faded into oblivion due to the folly of his last patrol!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved

Copyright © Robert L. Hinshaw | Year Posted 2011

Details | Rhyme |

His Nose

The nose he wears sits on his head
It's big and round and very red;
And in the dark it always glows
It must be awful to own that nose.
There's two dark holes filled with hair
With whatever else that's hidden there;
Each time I see with great surprise
That glow that sits between his eyes.
It shines as though when night meets day
There never could be another way;
I wonder too if he can tell
If red affects his sense of smell. 
Perhaps the problem is I think
He's had in time too much to drink;
I suggested then to paint it white
And he seemed to think this was alright.

For Frank Herrera's Zaniest Poetry Contest
Elizabeth Wesley

Copyright © elizabeth wesley | Year Posted 2011

Details | Verse |

Red Light

have you ever felt like 
the flashing red light on the roof,
lonely as ever
visible at night, useless by day?

in sync with its partner next door
for a quick kiss over a few flashes only 
then arguing again and again 
night in, night out.

have you ever felt like 
the flashing red light on the roof,
not signaling a warning to keep away
but sending a call for compassion?

using the dark pauses in between 
to yell the same name 
over and over and over
into the emptiness of each night.

have you ever felt like
the flashing red light on the roof,
being your silent cry
only heard by your eternal love?

Copyright © A.O. Taner | Year Posted 2016

Details | Verse |


As I stand by my coffer
Like the Ganges let my tears cleanse your soul
For I go to fight my demons 
And the cheers from the arena will echo through the world 
Let them forever whisper the moments we had 
For I learnt to kill the dead 

As I sit by my grave 
“I am not dead till you forget “in stone engrave
And this termites will feast me till am nothing I Rest in Distress
Let the soil absorb my sorrows
And the fruits remind you of the happiness we felt
For I learnt to kill the dead

As I sleep in the kiln
The world is my urn scatter me by the sea
And in the deepest trenches let my sins sink like debris
Let the wind Whisper my greatest deeds 
 And by your lips my legend will live
For I learnt to kill the Dead

As I take my seat in the Hades 
The everlasting fire warm my soul I am cold 
Burn my pain to ashes purify me to grace 
Let the screams be music to your ears 
Get a drink cheers my life celebrate  
For I learnt to kill the dead

Copyright © Moses Sichach | Year Posted 2015

Details | Rhyme |

Oggwool Fleece

In England’s pleasant pastures amid the free wild flowers
Lie pagan ways the wise ones do not mock
And one adept at harnessing these ancient rural powers
Was Oggwool Fleece, the black sheep of the flock

Oggwool was old, much older than the old oak it was said
Beneath whose boughs the dark sheep’s plans are sealed
‘Twas said the sheep had come back from the other side of dead
With the darkness in that corner of the field.

The farm hands better knew to venture in the oak’s strange shade
Or to the long grass that the darkness gripped
Where Oggwool lurked amid the spells and potions he had made
A sheep unshorn and magically undipped.

Not limited by four hooves in working his deft skill
Unhindered in ambitious sheepish plans
Harnessing the dark elves to do his dark sheep will 
Dexterously with little dark elf hands.

From that darkened corner of that English country field
His influence extends itself outside
His arcane woolly web through which his mystic powers wield
Reaching parts and persons spread worldwide

He has extensive vineyards in Italy and Spain,
He has mining operations in Peru
He owns a flock of ostriches down in the Ukraine
(Although he never quite intended to)

He’s engineering world events on scales beyond the ken
He has his hooves in business of all kinds
He interferes remorselessly in world affairs of men
With night-time thoughts drip-fed to human minds

Little green men fly through space in saucers flat and round
On interstellar missions without cease
But on their furthest journey yet, their enterprise is bound
To the ever growing plans of Oggwool Fleece

The politicians spin their words and armies shoulder arms
And yet do not beyond their small acts see
But Oggwool Fleece with thistle skills and other sheepwise charms
Is planning how to rule a galaxy!

Copyright © Lee Leon | Year Posted 2009

Details | Free verse |

Dark Lover

Don't be bitter baby
You're the one I love
And I know how to sweeten you up

I swim into you
My dreamy brown 
Steamy queen

Pass over my lips
Your tasty effusions on my tongue
Are intoxicating

When you go down
The warmth spreads through me 
And you set my heart to racing

Too bad that's the reason why
My doctor says I have 
To switch to dull, lifeless decaf

Copyright © Corinne Curcio | Year Posted 2009

Details | Rhyme |

Happy Question

Today I am going to hop my way to my brother.
To tell him how I feel about not being together.
I thought I could be so kind.
I saw him by the road side and I was blind.
I could just end it all by now.
Today I tried a cow.
It really was hard to do.
Then I hired a semi crew.
I watched carefully, darn he is fast!
My name is Happy ?, I'm Easter's brother who is sad.
He painted eggs that made me jealous and bad.
I hopped one day and he threw an egg at me.
My heart became really cold that memory was key.
I finally thought of it an accident really is going to happen.
Happy Easter is going to be laugh-en.
Good to see you, I said to a mystery man.
I was told not to associate with any human.
It was my last resort.
The man had a sports car a beautiful sort.
I was desperate, now, I'm in a bunny court.

Copyright © Reynaldo Mast | Year Posted 2013

Details | Light Poetry |

Yayyyyyyy a Contest

The Contest for my Heart 

Ah yes, a one time event
Black widows, black roses, red blood flows
Capture my heart
With your affections or the carving knife
Cut and bleed me as you wish
Shower me with your passions
I shall drink to the butchers dream
Of dinner severed for two
Or me served on a plate to you
The table clothe is romantically red
Our love affair left me ending up dead
On my tomb the flowers bloom
The epitaph cryptic under the moon
Here lies a man without a heart
I had the candle
I had the wine
She had the bitchers knife
She committed the crime
I may be buried in the cemetery of the forgotten
However my heart remains ice cold
After all
It’s still in her fridge

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2014

Details | Rhyme |

The Tasmanian devil

The New Ocean House, back in sixty-eight,
Worked as a busboy, left that night late.
A very dark night, dark of the moon.
Might have been May, may have been June.

I climbed on my bike, started its thunder.
Sped off wildly, like I was boy wonder.
I flew through the streets, heading to Lynn.
Nice that night, nice night for a spin.

Spun down the streets like the Tasmanian devil.
Not much of an IQ or intelligence level.
I stopped to talk with my frazzled friends.
Said I'd be back before the night ends.

Tore down my street in a roaring rally.
Killed the engine to coast through the alley,
Respect for the neighbors, their peace and quiet.
What happens next is kind of a riot.

Locked up my bike, locked up the door.
Left my white jacket on the tar floor.
I turned to see the blue lights flashing.
Did not think twice, just found myself dashing.

Jumped a fence and ran down the street.
I heard the sounds of their running feet.
They couldn't see the three barrels of trash,
Ran into them with a funny loud crash.

Got to the corner, my friends still there,
Listening to their laughter filling the night air.
The cops pulled up and asked us who.
We told them it wasn't someone we knew.

They left.

Copyright © David Watson | Year Posted 2007

Details | Bio |

Solitude: To Yoda, An Ode

Green bark a prism creates,
Feel the pull of earth, you must.

Rotates, a slime of endless hates,
Can hold me not, this world’s crust.

Friendship’s ties, isolation Deflates,
Succumbs, my spaceship, to bitter rust.

Mist, my soul forever permeates,
Lift-off, booms the rocket’s thrust.

My spirit when light returns, elates,
Swamps swell, swallowed hope’s swirling dust.

Trapped, I am, until student from fate
Arrives to learn; Cloud City or bust.

Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013

Details | ABC |

The Vent

im livin in a world, where all eyes on me.
trying to curve my own route.
but route 66 keeps finding its way to me.
ive been plenty sick, in all the events layed before me.
even when i reflect to my lowest points
i dont regret any of the choices
That I’ve deployed in my era
A lot of it by error, but hey
We live in hell conditions and there ain’t no air condition 
Or any guidelines when life throws you in the sidelines
But when hindsight twenty twenty hits
You’ll begin to understand life’s a bunch of equations and you in the mix of it
An you’ll have to think twice, before running into a situation and becoming the best of it
it’s what got me here, it’s what got us here
Ran with my thoughts blazing up to her place and
Guess what happened next
She opened up heaven’s gate
And just before late I slipped out
Simply put 
I’m a Grown ass man
Doin his thing, waitin to blow up like an old land mine
In doin what he drools over
But time after time 
Something decides to creep up and cover the light
Lost my way
Then I revoked to ever know, I ever thought that way
But in the in between time, that in the mean time 
Spent a lot of time
Gettin pissed off just to medicate and lift off
Don’t need Don Perion to sip off
Already had my way with the bottle
Even thought to get back with the trouble and rejoin the hustle
That’s just what happens to a man who really knows his old ways
Whos tired of making ends meet and ponders getting back to the streets.
Memory sets in and he remembers an O.G. saying
No matter how tall your pockets stand when you ball
Eventually times gonna make you fall
And I as I pull myself together 
I don’t wanna end up like the twin towers rubble
I mean no offence to nine eleven but at that time I probably could have used a reverend
But all that’s irrelevant now
because i live with a different perspective now

there you go you made it to the end :-) comment if you like, constructive criticism wanted as well.

Copyright © pat roswell | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

Conspiracy: Who Killed The Easter Bunny

A crowded table, all suspended in shock 
The sound of the shot dimming to a ‘knock’
Only silence, except for the marching clock
The weapon still smoking; an anonymous glock

Loud cries arise from the elongated table,
Jack Frost is shocked, the Tooth Fairy unable
To speak whilst Santa is checking the stable
For clues on the erstwhile maidservant Mable

They searched for hours, called in C.S.I,
Panic set in, would the children all cry?
Sandman confirmed the bunny had died
Batman suspected somebody had lied

Guests were quizzed, interrogations began
The mystery unfolded when Santa Claus ran,
Grabbing the pies, he tried escaping in a van
But was stopped in his tracks by superman

Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013

Details | Verse |


First day of our life
The mother is ecstatic
Finally her pains and burdens are over
Ululations and congratulations are on
Could even be the next president
But father is in tears
Camouflaged as honest joy
Another big mouth to feed

Second day of our life
The priest is ecstatic
Finally another person in line for tithe
Could even be the next pope
But mother is in tears
Camouflaged as the touching by the word
Village thugs and whores praying for you
Another statistic of robbery without violence

Third day of our life
The teacher is ecstatic
Finally someone to be the Aristotle to their Plato
Could even be the next Einstein
But priest is in tears
Camouflaged as tears for absolution
Lawyers and politicians consecrating you
Another greedy scholar on the rise

Fourth day of our life
The couters are ecstatic
Finally we love being in love
Could even get married bells ringing
But teacher is in tears
Camouflaged as being proud of you
Another dumb romantic who never learns

Fifth day of our life
We are very ecstatic
Finally we made a new life
Could it be the need to sustain bliss human mediocrity?
But our sweethearts are in tears
Camouflaged as being happy for you
Another one escapes dying alone

Sixth day of our life
Grandchildren are ecstatic
Finally someone else full of laughter and ambition
Could it be their I-phone is the only new thing under the sun?
But we are in tears
Camouflaged as pain in our backs
Another generation who don’t know how short life is

The last day of my life
The better angels inside my head are mourning
Finally I am someone who lived in this world
Could it be because I will be forgotten?
But grandchild is happy
Camouflaged as tears for losing you
Just another man without legacy gone

Copyright © Moses Sichach | Year Posted 2015

Details | Light Poetry |


(Free style) Tonight is not my night I don't know what to do And all it is dark And that's true. I can barely see my watch I wish time I could stop it But of course I can't Not even for a bit. I can't watch my T.V. Tonight nothing is good I could turn it on anyway If only I could. I wish I could Scare my sister tonight This is the best time But she's out of sight. I open my freezer But can't use the food Because I can't cook And that kills my mood. I am getting so bored I want to play a game Or just watch a movie but I Can't and that's a shame! What am I now to do? I Wish I could write A short e-mail to all of my friends But I don't have electricity tonight! Dorian Petersen Potter aka ladydp2000 aka ladylove copyright@2014 December,04,2014

Copyright © Dorian Petersen Potter | Year Posted 2014

Details | Quatrain |

Swimming the dark sea

Such pain, such pain this poor heart's born,
with so little pleasures in return, 
much gifts it has bestowed, unearned 
now, here it lies; morose, forlorn

Alas, alas, what curse has brought this
wrath upon such an innocent soul,
its spirit broken by this tragic role
like Atlas or more so, Sisyphus

Fall down again from feet to knees
to plumb the dark and dreary depths,
the length and seemingly infinite breadth
of this warm, salty sea of self-pity
These murky waters, born from tears
these waves and tides that chop and churn,
these silent sobs leave one to yearn
for one small thing; a tender ear

Copyright © David Brown | Year Posted 2015

Details | Quatrain |

A Flame Once Burned

                              The Flame Burnt Hot.
The air was thin, standing looking out of the small window
Flying to Tunisia through a cloud level that was low
Stretching my legs and peering down the fuselage 
From the flight deck, appeared the man who was definitely in charge.

His dark good looks struck me, they hit me like a blow
He came and stood in front of me and then he said “Hello.”
Dark limpid brown eyes, dressed in a uniform so smart
If we had been there longer, he may have stolen my beating heart.

Holding in his hand, a bar of dark chocolate
Broke a piece off it, and asked me if I’d like to partake.
Not being a fan of chocolate, but I am a fan of a uniform so grand
I let him feed it to me out of his large, strong, tanned hand.

The flame was burning bright as we looked deep into each others eyes
When my husband tapped him on the shoulder much to our surprise
The pilot turned and offered him a piece of chocolate too
I think you may guess the answer, and what he told him then to do.

The flame that burned oh so hot, was snuffed in just a second
A warning to all those girls, for whom a uniform may beckon
When a tall dark pilot offers to feed you from his hand
Make sure there’s no one around round so that flame can then be fanned…

© 27/11/2012~GG~

Based very loosely on a true story lol 

Copyright © Mandy Tams The Golden Girl | Year Posted 2012

Details | Pantoum |


I found forty rusty pennies in a black leather slipper
while my itchy nose sneezed more than three times;
why were they hidden from thrifty mother?
Weren't they less valued than silver dimes?

While my itchy nose sneezed more than three times,
mom woke up to scold me for my loud laughter;
she was mad and wanted to hear anything but lies
and frantically screaming, she pulled my curly hair. 

Mom woke to scold me for my loud laughter,
I tripped on the slipper, falling flat as a bear, 
and frantically screaming, she pulled my curly hair;
with an angered face, I retrieved to my dark lair.

She was mad and wanted to hear anything but lies,
mom woke up to scold me for my loud laughter;
with an angered face, I retrieved to my dark lair...
I found forty rusty pennies in a black leather slipper.

Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2012

Details | Blank verse |

Hopelessly Awaiting For Laundry Day

I hide 
In my splintered wicker laundry hamper
Under last weeks soiled cloths
Sheltered within a warm wooden box

At first the cloths smelled of me 
And later I of them 
And soon hereafter 
We of we

I lay there
Still and cold
In the soiled
Hopelessly Awaiting For Laundry Day

Copyright © RUDOLPH RINALDI | Year Posted 2015

Details | Carpe Diem |


Your  love pricks me like a rose each thorn grows but no one knows Your so full of 
it as it shows so carry on now go on, go. I'm fed up with the phony and  i'm 
through with the tears, you couldn't pay me all your money to make up for those 
years. Someone help me I feel faint how could I think he was such a saint and 
worst of all I let me fall into a spiral down below. A magic called love carried 
by the dove of someone I use to know.

Copyright © Sam Ruby | Year Posted 2013

Details | Light Poetry |

One Night in Stroud

I stumbled drunkenly through Stroud
Passed the kebab van on the hill,
When all at once I saw a crowd
Of ladettes – taunting the old bill;
Just for a lark, just for a wheeze,
Flirting and dancing, dressed to tease.

Bedecked with bling, drinking cheap wine,
A clowder of cats out to play,
Perfume and bags by Calvin Klein
All you can eat slapper buffet.
Looking for violence not romance,
Tossing the V’s in fighting stance.

The plods approached askance, as they
Ignored them and crouched down to pee;
The deluge nearly washed away,
The council’s prized floral display! 
I gazed – amazed - at just how short;
Their skirts were and indeed how taut.

Often now – I sit down and cry
(Sometimes it puts me off my food) 
When I recall what I did spy
The female form so crass and rude;
Those harpies in search of cheap thrills,
Stooped - pissing on the daffodils.

(apologies to Mr Wordsworth)

Copyright © David Sollis | Year Posted 2013

Details | Dramatic Verse |

A Letter To My First Crush

A LETTER TO MY FIRST CRUSH My Dearest Kevin My hands shake nervously as I write this letter The fountain pen drips the ink in heart-shapes Pieces of my heart as it reach out to you I just want you to know that loving you isn’t easy My dozen of Harlequins and my entire Mill @ Boon collection Have'nt prepared me To deal with a player like you I heard it through the grapevine, That you are heartbreaker and womanizer With only one thing on your adolescence mind My grandmother always told me, that Why buy the cow, when you can get the milk for free My grandma is a wise woman More like a heroine in my eyes I am the heroine of my life More like a Nancy Drew without a clue on how to love you I am never satisfy, I am curious And mysterious However I am very chary Kind of gal ^ I do believe that I am in love with you today However, I might hate you tomorrow Because you never know with a secret admirer To the man I love today They are nothing more than I can say. I will wait for your reply my love

Copyright © Annie Lander | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

Squeeze My Lemon

I'm heading home -  I have a date    
Chills play my spine - I pass my gate    

Time to eat - hope I'm not late    
I rush myself  up spiral stairs    
I'm hurrying cause I like mine rare    
It's dinner time, I'm feeling fine    
I lick my chops and grab some wine    
I sing and dance across the room    
To one of Zeppelins silky tunes    
"Squeeze my lemon till the juice runs down my leg 
  Squeeze it so hard - I fall right out of bed"    
Alas with ringing of the bell    
Wafts cross the room, 'OH! delightful smell    
I sit to eat, has it gone too far?    
You know I like my meat Tartar    
I squeeze some lemon on his leg 
And lick my lips as I am fed 

I Slurp His blood so darkly red 
My secrets out, I love the dead    
Daintily, I wipe my chin    
Daintily, And then I grin

Copyright © shaunda lindsay | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |

Breath Nightmare Dark Side of the Moon

I bask in your love
your warm and heated air blows softly upon my ear lobe
"My ear ring is gone as you choke and gasp for breath"

Your fingers glide slowly down my legs
your mouth so close I can feel your lips that are so direct
"Making my knee jerk hitting your mouth causing you to loose your breath"

A soft but vigorous kiss
upon my shoulder as your fingers in twine and caress
"Shavings not my thing tickling your nose down the throat it goes as you gage and pant"

Now sitting alone upon my bed
as I watch you dress in despair with a face of dread
"You flee with such speed huffing and puffing while trying to catch your breath"

Alone again with darkness all around with only the moon to shine
I listen to Pink Floyd with tears I'll cry
"The second man I've made run like a rabbit runs.

9/9/10   Contest sponsored by: James Fraser   'Album Tracks Tell Stories'

Copyright © TAMMY REAMS | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry |

Thoughts from the Mind of a Blogger

It was a chilly morning in paradise...

Autumn was already here...

A time for strange things to happen, as it is that time of year...

She was up most of the night, doing a write....

Regarding some hubs and her series titled "Legend of Fred "

Ahh the questions she had... rolling around in her head..

Were “where were her readers, her followers “ her Hubbers...?

They had all seemed to like what she wrote in the past..

But lately her hubs were falling so fast....

She had written articles on health and life..

perhaps she had targeted too much strife...

Maybe they wanted to read about food..

But when you're not a cook, that would be kinda rude..

Oh, will wonders never cease ?

So she decided she'd get some zzzzz's

She lay in her bed, not moving at all...

but breathing quite deeply, as I saw the covers fall...

So I stretched my muscles and walked ever so slow..

So as not to wake her , then I spied her big toe..

Sticking out from the was such a temptation..

And with me having such a" foot fixation".. however...

She needed the rest , so she can finish her quest..

I have some thoughts of my own...

that I would like to share in a poem..

And I would be happy to help her.. but..

I don’t think the world is ready for me...

as I am a BLOGGING CAT.. you see

So I will close for now...everyone have a great

I'm off to seek something that has a tweak and a squeak..

Copyright © kj force | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

I'll Take The Tall, Dark and Handsome, Oh, I Mean Coffee, To

She looked shyly at him from behind her menu
His eyes were a baby blue that sent chills
Through her whole body; she could melt right here 
And have that waitress he’s talking to mop her up
Typical Barbie doll type with an pretentiously
Effervescent personality that makes you want to 
Roll your eyes and scoff--The environment they 
Were in was a hustle and bustle type of place 
Where time waits for no soon as people
Were done eating, they were cleared out and 
Another party was ushered in

“It is essential to business that you eat,
Order and then leave.” The Barbie Doll waitress’ 
Nasal twang only served as a catalyst for 
Her frustration--She kept peering over her 
Menu at the Adonis that kept her enraptured
“Well Honey, what’s it gonna be?”
Barbie’s voice oozed of impatience
Not taking her eyes off The Gorgeous One,
She replied softly, “I need more time.”
Barbie’s demeanor escalated from 
Impatience to hysterical--“More time! 
Honey, you gotta order, or you gotta go!” 
As the hand went to the waist
And the hip thrusted out.

Now she had enough of this witch and her
Attitude---Why couldn’t she just go somewhere
Nice to eat and be able to enjoy the view?
“No, I don’t gotta go---You do! She exclaimed
As she stood up, knocking her bag to the floor; 
Menu flailing back and forth
You are SO nasty, why would I want to eat
Here? You probably SPIT in the food!”
The waitress stood back, aghast
What evolved next was most of the patrons
Getting up and leaving; unpaid checks and
Half-eaten plates the fallout of this outburst
The owner, who tried to assure people there was
No saliva in the food, bellowed for the waitress
To get into his office while the rest of the staff
Scurried around trying to recover from the 
Losses they incurred

As she took a deep breath, picked up her
Bag and her dignity, The Gorgeous One 
Came from behind, put his arm around her
And smiled
“That was the greatest thing I ever saw,
He said as his eyes shone intensely on her
What’s your number?” And she felt like a
Rocket flying to the Moon
Elation to go.........with a side order of

Copyright © MaryLouise Goguen | Year Posted 2005

Details | Rhyme |

Mystery Buff

'Twas a dark and stormy night", the whodunit book began!
I reckon that is music to the ears of an avid mystery fan.
To curl up with a book by the fire on a dark and stormy night,
With the lights dimmed low, it sets the mood perfectly right!

The corpus was found by the maid sprawled upon the floor,
And nigh him lay an elephant gun with a fifty caliber bore!
It appeared fairly obvious as to how the feller met his doom.
However,  in such criminal cases, 'tis best not to presume!

Enter now the debonair detective, a pipe-smoking chap,
Wearing a suit of tweed, sporting a deer stalkers cap.
In a practiced pose he mused with his chin in his hand,
Pondering what miscreant brought this feller to his end!

Could it have been the butler who did the dastardly deed,
Or the ne'er-do-well brother-in-law in a pique of greed?
Perhaps it was the work of a jealous, jilted lover.
He searched for every clue as over the body he did hover.

Aha! The astute constable noted there was no bullet hole or gore,
But nearby lay an empty bottle shattered about the floor!
Alas, dear reader, what did him in was no foe or friend.
'Twas that deadly, demon rum that brought him to "THE END!"

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved

Copyright © Robert L. Hinshaw | Year Posted 2012

Details | Rhyme |

If I Were a Plastic Bag-

If I Were a Plastic Bag…

I would help shoppers carry their stuff.
Anything: groceries, toys or powder puffs.
I could help thrice, because I am tough.
I like to; it is fun to see their stuff!

Sometimes I wait for weeks in the dark, scrunched.
Kept there unused for months crowded and hunched… 
I am not alone; we plastic bags are bunched.
Waiting in the dark while the humans munch.

I dream that one-day, soon I will fly up high.
I will escape on the day that the wind blows by.
A breath of fresh air will lift me into the sky.
I will see the city's grandeur; then, I shall sigh.

It seems like forever the days go slow.
Up in a treetop it would not be so.
I could just hang around beneath sun's glow.
Watching travelers drive about on streets below.

Freedom's dream, flying high, has not come to fruition.
The life I lead in cabinets has become a mission.
Somehow, now, based upon the economic condition.
I just lay back in the dark and wait in submission.

© Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
     December 18, 2009

Copyright © Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen | Year Posted 2009

Details | Narrative |

The Midnight Madame

Honey Glaze Bun
A herd of hoof ran across her back
 Her mind drifting into slumber
Her midnights rendezvous became dangerous acts 
while the itinerant
Slept in every alley on Delaney Street

An exhausted prosecutor 
Release her back to the cruelty of the dark street
Where broken lamps on 
The Great White Way generates
Little or no heat
And the deafening sound of the siren
Kept her awake
Until the blonde blue eye stranger pulled up
In a dark limousine rolled down the window
 And whispered
“Hello honey bun
Come on in 
Your place or mine
Let’s be discreet.

Half a mile down the dark road
The hooded stranger
Poetry became a reality
An old Shakespearean

Let not my love be called idolatry,


Copyright © Annie Lander | Year Posted 2012

Details | Terzanelle |

The Phantom of Delusion

I am the floating pieces within the black hole of the verses
The dark phantom take a side emitted in remaining shadow
Who could stop me from my battle towards to the numbness?

One night the moon hid itself into an echo 
Those, the conceited tribal of the mystic valley compete me in a crime 
The dark phantom take a side emitted in remaining shadow

They hinted a race to steal the pendulum ore of a time
Missing clue about who the hell they were facing
Those, the conceited tribal of the mystic valley compete me in a crime 

I summoned my mainstay tools called the time machine
In all of the sublimity of my narcissism, I flew
Missing clue about who the hell they were facing

Pursuit the tail which left me to the situation which I knew
Sneaking through the darkness, I sprint to the vessel of a good shot
In all of the sublimity of my narcissism, I flew

In every ease of victory named as the beauty of the black spot
Sneaking through the darkness, I sprint to the vessel of a good shot
I am the floating pieces within the black hole of the verses
Who could stop me from my battle towards to the numbness?

Awake on gasp
Drool mapped on pillow
Did my husband aware?

(*scratching head with confusion) 

2nd place
Contest Terzanelle Fantasy with a Questionku Chaser 	
Sponsored by: Richard Lamoureux

Copyright © Yanny Widjanarko | Year Posted 2012

Details | Sonnet |

The Broken Girl-not me

Is my life not tortured enough for you to see? 
I am broken as can be. 
My heart is torn. 
My tears stain these perfect floors.  
Why are singing with glee? 
Why do you not care about my every plea? 
I am trapped in your arms. 
I am the hopeless moth. 
How did you pick me? 
What is it that you see? 
A girl untouched by life? 
A flower blooming in the desert? 
I have said goodbye to my loving integrity.  
You took that from me through R-A-P-E.

Copyright © Layla Elkoulily | Year Posted 2013