Best Amusingly Poems
A Joint Poem by Brian Johnston and Abekah Emmanuel
She said:
Did you really understand what I just said?
He said:
If I didn't understand my misunderstanding was so complete that I did not understand that I did not understand!
She said:
Amusingly amazing misunderstanding!
He said:
So you understand my confusion? I am so glad that someone does! You know dear this could be a poem. It clears up so many things!
Aside to reader:
And might even contribute to my getting some... peace that is, a little later on. [Wink, Wink]
Brian Johnston
May 24, 2015
What would be the most perfect day?
What would bring me the most joy?
The very first thing I’d have to say,
is bringing back to life my sweet little boy.
I’d give him back his favorite train toy.
We would stroll hand and hand on a walk,
pet our dog Bo who would still be alive-
Maybe it would be the day he’d learn to talk,
oh, if only my sweet boy had survived…
a perfect day would be contrived.
The perfect day would be in Autumn,
we would play hopscotch and ball-
I’d pray that good fun I taught him,
then in the leaves he would amusingly fall.
I wonder if he’d grow to be tall?
I’d make him his favorite meal, rice cereal,
hear him laugh and giggle with delight-
I need nothing bought or of material,
just to tuck him in gently at night.
Oh, what a beautiful and miraculous sight.
My perfect day would be complete,
as I kiss him tenderly on his head-
I’d tickle his innocent hands and feet,
and whisper, “I love you” in bed.
Now it’s tomorrow that I dread.
The Perfect Day Contest
November 30th, 2017
dialog with myself invariably involves others
we are all perceivers nobody escapes
no really and truly trust me on this
no manufacturing of childish evasions
maybe it is best to be born into a family
with family values
ablaze with comfort and sanitation
lost in a forest of memories
amusingly arrayed for shoppers
exactly like the TV version
fortunately I was in touch
with my inner juvenile delinquent
unlettered by any known normalcy
nor crazed by the expectation of gold
or even gold paint from a rattle can
our addiction to pleasure
is no Darwinian accident
we really do learn to act from movies
no really and truly trust me on this
our tune is a complicated little number
in several keys at once
upon your mother's pedestal is one
between cognition and reflex is another
in the keyhole universe
location location location
I may need an axe to free my thoughts
just so I can play dumb
when you know too much
you go for the guts
in a trail blazing effort to avoid
media suppression by the CIA
Clairvoyant Intelligence Agency
chronically in for interrogation
OK let's play who's more paranoid
if this poem is minus the above line
then it has been tampered with
754 million hand sewn Humpty Dumpty
nerve connections later
sutured like Frankenstein's test dummy
a bungee cord full of existential tension
I seem to be strapped to a microscope
plunging to new vistas and panoramas
recoil in horror from what you were
behavior can also be modified
by better info if you let it
how's that for mind warfare
pretty propaganda pretty pretty
for the young and the innocent
left screaming in a gas station toilet
wrapped in today's newspaper
comics section puzzle page
how long can the charade continue
when autonomous is still an illegal word
this is an audience participation piece
from the Federal Pencil Council
and for the terminally nostalgic
the night arched quietly above
From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
Artist Portfolio: http://walteralter.byethost32.com/
God is the cardinal creator
He is the generous giver
He can rise a dead to life, being the grantor
He can create a thing that existed never
He gave what you have
He knows whatever you know
Your deeds drive Him to decide what to give
As you deserve, He does sow
From you, He has nothing to get
He may test you before giving
To test your devotion, test He may set
To adjudge your faith and to ordain your living
Divine dream driven to sacrifice his dearest son
Candid command relates, not to a materialistic thing
One that can’t be a supplant or substitute being beyond season
Rather very well one, from his own being
Being the one and only son,
who was born of the Spirit, by the will of God
for a centenarian father, with a divine reason
as Abraham always adored Allah, for the overall good
Yet his faith on God as the Judge of the universe, was not weaken
Nor he took it as the biggest bitter pill to swallow
His trust over Allah was not shaken
Bewildering but bemused Abraham chose his dream to follow
His wife too accepted the sacrifice, with pleasure
She knows him as a man of noble character and an ‘apostle of Allah’
He was obedient to Allah and upright by nature
He never knows then, he too shall stay in history as messiah
Farewell kiss in the forehead of son, she gave
Son too set forward amusingly unto the altar
Execution was about to happen but Allah intervened to save
To proclaim the faith of Abraham as an ever shining star
This a terrific trial to test the deepness of devotion
Act of Abraham is an exemplary example of selfless surrender
Upholds the unity and understanding of a family, with a mention
Obedience to God opens gates of riches, grace, kindness and wonder!
His firm faith is famed as the holy ‘Muslim festival of sacrifice’
Eid-ul-Adha ever confirms that God unfailingly rewards those who do right
Faithful obedience to God like Hazrat Abraham, is suffice!
Even in dark and dungeon, God shall give you then, hope and sight!!
Above Poem is adapted from the eBook "BIRD OF PARADISE AND OTHER POEMS" by Mr.V.MUTHU MANICKAM. Copyrights reserved.
A Golden Girl, Ms. Betty White, one day shall meet
Your life measured in memories that were sweet
May you tap dance to the rhythm of the beat
As you were always amusingly funny on your feet
1/10/2022
Betty White Jan. 17, 1922-Dec. 31, 2021
A Celebrity Epitaph Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Michelle Faulkner
It is quite common to kiss injuries on those wee.
At three, my son asked to have bath autonomy.
I tossed a washcloth, then stood where he could not see.
Soon, he called out words that amusingly shook me,
"Mom, it washed sore, come kiss ouchy on my pee-pee."
Shopping, strolling him down the grocery store aisle
where female hygiene products are sorted in piles,
my son, age four, earnestly said, "When I'm grown, I'll
buy all these things with flowers on them for my wife."
His words styled a smile in me that would last for life.
I used mild-applied wooden spoons for mood anchors.
This set me up for disgust from food cart flankers
when my son yelled, "Look Mom, a hole bag of spankers."
My child, four, eyed that, not the shelved Power Rangers?
I hoped no one would report child welfare dangers.
Once, when a minister summed up his sermon's span
asking "Who's the greatest force in the universe?",
my son, at five, stood up with some dramatic plan.
Lifting his toy hero as high as small ones can,
he enthusiastically declared, "Batman!"
Thoughts of vacation, developed my fav word pearl,
"How many times do I wake up before Disney World?"
-Of Rhythm-
Musing the amusing truth in rhythm of verse,
In life there’s one focal of all efforts: success.
Plainly remarkable stems of rhythm grow;
Mesmerizing and clasping and grasping wonders.
There are many worthwhile wonders buried beneath.
The topsoil, the cloud due dig deep, down miles and wide;
For lot’s hidden beyond men on the horizon.
Musing amusingly, rhythm in silhouette:
When first creations know not what’s real and what’s odd.
The rhythm- messages the night believes are vague,
While the day strives, trips, slips and sleeps off in between.
No man blames the sky for descending darkness.
It seeks none from men, not even of livelihood.
For ascending light in the days, men toil through too.
Amazing rhythms are gifts from Mother Nature.
The little born receives, foretells the more unborn,
In the kingdom of the sky, the land and the sea.
ECHO
nymph of note
your mountain voice rebounds
as it resonates your vanity
enticing echo’s alluring invite
beguiling tantalizing tease
tempting Zeus
weaving your words
of sidetracking diversion
amusingly entertaining wives
freeing their spouses to ravish
captivating seducing tease
tempting nymphs
detecting your tricks
Hera’s fierce retribution as
colorful conversations she muted
replacing with foolish repetitions
your only communication now
irrational duplication
AN OBTUSE
ECHO
In Greek mythology “Echo” was a mountain nymph who loved the sound of her own voice.
She used it to attract Greek gods and torment their wives… until the wife of Zeus,
Hera,
Un-earthed deception and sought retribution
© Kim van Breda—10 November 2014
V I R G O A N, YOU
Yes, you are a Virgo-an
Sweetheart, you are born
Sixth in the Zodiac Sign
Destined to be kind and loving
Caressed by the stings of Scorpions.
Your early constellation
Journeyed you and brightens
Far from the Far East regions
To your playing field in the Western nation
More than ever shining and strong.
You are blessed with beautiful children
Who definitely enjoyed and liven
Your life in full swinging kinetic-ism
Thou retired early from your profession
Yet guided them to be successfully fine.
Lucky was once upon a time your man
When you served and loved him
But such fate so amusingly scheming
And bad timing in many times
But God finally sent you a bosom-friend.
Your chosen mate and love ones
All greeting and wishing
You a Birthday conceived in heaven
You deserve such a Special occasion
Happy, happy birthday again!
Virtually looking at you always a maiden
And in you his eyes never loosen sights on
Puts you in a pedestal never could anyone threaten
And forever the wind be singing and tendering
You, with the liken of a Swan Song.
9/2/13
Composed by GWSL
Dedicated to DGA
Mama warthog decided it was time,
To take her two piglets for a walk,
She wanted to take them up a steep climb
For it would make them strong, but first had a talk
With her young ones, about many a predator
Out there, who were always on the hunt,
They listened to Mom did Lester and Hector,
So off they went, Mama led from the front.
This was their first time on a grown up’s walk,
They tarried a bit playing hide and seek
On the way, Mama scolded them, see that hawk,
She explained, his talons are long, his beak,
Sharp and he will swoop down and grab
You both with a fearsome might
Relishing and gorging himself outright.
Oh my gosh, oh dearie me,
Think how sad Dad and I would be,
Warthogs having an excellent, keen sense of smell,
Putting Mama on the alert,
As her piglets were playing,
And having fun frolicking and exploring
In the dense African bush, its voice
Whispering, what a delicious meal for lions on
The prowl, Mama knew so well, if the lions could
Steal them from her, they would
Devour every morsel and leave their bones
To the vultures.
Uneasy, she collected her youngsters,
And began their return trip home, showing them
How to forage for bulbs to eat, by digging
With their tusks whilst on their elbows.
Amusingly when they were running home all three
Tails stuck straight up like radio antenna.
Well, this little warthog family got home safely,
The piglets had their first lessons in the wild,
No predators thankfully crossed their path
This day!
So tell me what you
really like to feel
How you would like to swim,
chill a little,enjoy these free
gusts as they fill your wings;
a simple nudge to flight
No single grudge to mind
Where does that fuel reside?
That ripple surge to light
take-off on to vibes so bright
You could flinch at my clarity
Make me an interloper bordering insanity
There's a lot of rivalry in Galilee
A recession of chivalry
So amusingly pathetic
So, tell me honey
What sweet confectionery
Would you love best to melt
While slid between your lips to be felt
The color of spring
Is bright and amusingly
The flowers the trees
A horse was banished to a farm,
Where all were old and grim,
And when he felt he meant no harm,
A cow went up to him.
“T ’was not supposed to be this way,”
The horse said to the cow,
“Of how I ended here today,
I really don’t know how”
“When I was young, my legs would run,
The quickest of the team.
The races that I could have won,
Now visions in a dream.”
“I could have been a battle horse,
With me so very strong.
It’d surely be, with all my force,
A battle minutes long”
“I could have been a horse for show,
As I was very fair.
The sun upon my hide would glow,
And glisten in my hair.”
The cow spoke up, amusingly
“You should not talk of could,
As could and should will never be
For if you could, you would.”
“And just be glad you weren’t around,
Before a week or two.
As there were horses more abound,
And all were sold for glue.”
"Be thankful for what you have."
So I’m not looking good, you say
From where you are sat
Well, let me tell you, sonny Jim
You’re not all that
I haven’t quite lived up to your
Lofty aspirations
A bit too old, a bit too poor
Too many affectations
Incapable, impoverished
And just a bit autistic
Not even slightly racist
Or amusingly sadistic
You say I’m sadly lacking
Say it’s sad perhaps, but true
That I’m no longer good enough
Not good enough for you
An eye for an eye, methinks
A tooth for a tooth
Would deem it fair enough that I
Should now tell the truth
That I should air our dirty laundry
On the corner of the street
And vomit dark unpleasantries
In puddles at your feet
Tell everybody everything
You’ve ever said to me
Let the fly on the wall that saw it all
Shout from the highest tree
But I shall never stoop so low
To down where you are sat
For let me tell you, sonny Jim
You’re not all that
by Gail
Funny, it is how witnessing the root form of greed
Can cause an otherwise healthy vision to bleed
Humorous is a poorly conceived disguise
So much so that blood drips from my eyes
Hilarious is the blinding light
Hemorrhaging to the sight
Amusingly though, it's not so cryptic
As phlebotomy consumes the optic
If any of this has you seeing red
Maybe control your anger instead