Best Break Wind Poems
Variations on the Malay Pantun : The Old Man and the Short Story - X -XII - Continued
for Georges VOISSET, the "Master Keeper-Nurturer" of the Malay Pantun
(The pantun line varies between 8 and 12 syllables and is most commonly found in the anonymous quatrain form. Cf " Poietics of the Pantun ", pp. 49-67 in T. Wignesan. Sporadic Striving amid Echoed Voices, Mirrored Images and Stereotypic Posturing in Malaysian-Singaporean Literatures. Allahabad : Cyberwit, 2008, xix-244p.)
X
Go West on horseback and fire pistols point blank
Union Pacific galloped at City Lights
The Wench prefers red-hot fire not bullets blank
Old Men let horses ride bareback on Wench sans tights
XI
Go West on quick-shunting trains and let fall frontiers
Go East on horseback and churn Post-Colonial craze
East or West the Wench licks the Master's rears and tears
Not so the Youngster his Beat poems Old Men praise
XII
Shunt not trains which Kipling coupled lest they break wind
Old Men returned from the East rest traumatic
The Wench can take any Beat grind save the hind kind
Not so the Youngster e'en pistol-packing mama flic
© T. Wignesan - Paris, November 12, 2018
Categories:
break wind, age, humor, literature, satire,
Form:
Pantoum
There once lived a woman called Lady-de Leisure, who turned not to men, but food for
pleasure.
She ate everything spicy and sticky and sweet, the poor lady could not even see her poor
feet. From dusk until dawn, all she would do was eat, drink, break wind, burp belch and poo.
But one day whilst eating her thirty fifth pie, the lady burped loudly, keeled over and died.
The funeral had to be held outside, but people they came to say goodbye.
The coffin itself, you’ve never seen bigger. The bearers were three forklift trucks and a
digger.
The hole in the ground was fourteen feet wide, and even then the coffin scraped at the sides.
So if you are thinking about being a lady of leisure, look elsewhere than food solely for
pleasure.
Categories:
break wind, death, food, funny, peoplefood,
Form:
Limerick
There once was a poet named Charlie,
Who loved to break wind with his Harley;
His fans almost choked,
On the words that he wrote,
Cause the smell of his prose, it was gnarly.
Categories:
break wind, fun, humor,
Form:
Limerick
Pardon me sir, but did you not just break wind?
Pardon me sir, but don't you feel a bit chagrined?
Pardon me sir, but I deem your faux pas mighty gross!
Pardon me sir, but you've left me feeling a bit morose!
Pardon me sir, but on this bus we don't enjoy your sop!
Pardon me sir, may I suggest you de-bus at the next stop!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved
Entry for Poetess Darkly's "Pardon Me, Did You Just..." Contest
Categories:
break wind, humorous, pollution,
Form:
Couplet
A Precept Limerick
Precept versus concepts in one’s writing,
Alone, concepts remain__ problems fighting!
Thus these are the two levels,
Concepts have not love’s bevel.
Precept is above the problems gliding.
Thus Love’s precept of one’s own opinion,
Promotes one from being chief’s Indian.
Problems are below,
Where strives of wind blow.
Precept answers to Love, concepts break wind.
Concept’s judgments of precept, are inept,
For natural mind by precept is kept.
By mind’s vice of verse,
`Tis no Love disperse.
One’s inspiration is kept of precept!
8-29-10
Categories:
break wind, funny, love
Form:
Limerick
Now the razamataz is over
Looks like Trump is next in line.
If he does what he is proclaiming
Everything will be just fine
If like his name*
He is full of hot air like a deflating balloon
Then “God Bless America” comes to mind
Not just America we’re sure to find.
Must give the man a chance
He is a millionaire by right
Must have had some brain to acquire this
Just that cell doesn’t glow so bright
Please Mister President stop putting your foot in it
Think before opening wide
I will raise my glass to you Donald Trump
At the end of office, you can then say
“I Tried”
Penned 9 November 201
*To trump is to break wind
Categories:
break wind, america,
Form:
Rhyme
At work it was slack- not much to do,
The boss was out on the prowl.
We have to look busy no matter what
His face was all of a scowl.
I had the misfortune to pick up a paper
A paper someone bought for their break,
The boss he saw- and he descended on me
The shock made my knees begin to quiver and shake.
His name was Marsh but we called him Swampy
A more evil man there never was…
I expected to end up like a corpse from Pompey
When to his office he dragged me because.
The fear made me shake
And wind I did break
The smell permeated through the air…
He stood looking at me but I could see-
to ask me he never would dare…
My lips began to twitch, my nose began to itch
What on earth was I going to do?
He opened the door pushed me out to the shop floor
The shock made me-
nearly drop a poo...
I heard a big gasp
He took a deep breath in at last
I ran off before he caught me again.
The lesson I learnt
I know now why matches are burnt
In small closets all over the land…
But as I don’t smoke, when I break wind I choke
As I never have matches to hand.
From that day forth
Matches are in my pocket henceforth
Swampy can catch me on a skive if he does like
But he never has-he avoids me because
When he is around I get out the matches and strike….
Categories:
break wind, fantasy, funny, imagination, me,
Form:
Rhyme
What in H*ll is that smell
Is it coming from your tail
It is worst than a skunk
cought in a trunk
It's not cool to break wind in school
If you do don't claim it
It is not a prize that you will find
When everbody gives you a peice of their mine
Then they will want to kick your behind
Categories:
break wind, giggle, humor,
Form:
He has talent first seen as delinquency
That has given him fame, perhaps infamy
When he’s mad or chagrined
He’s inclined to break wind
With a sound like a Beethoven symphony
Categories:
break wind, humorous,
Form:
Limerick
I knew a young man from Crewe
Who's favorite meal was a stew
Though he became chagrined
As he'd often break wind
And sometimes would follow through.
His wife cried you are obscene
And the noise is causing a scene
For after eating prunes
He could fart in tune
To the anthem God save the Queen.
His bowels were causing a riot
It was time to change his diet
He was afraid to cough
Fear of letting one off
Wasn't easy keeping things quiet.
So as for the young man from Crewe
It's a goodbye to beans and stew
Hoping vegetable soup
Wont make him poop
For relief is long overdue.
Categories:
break wind, humor,
Form:
Limerick
How shall I begin,
we say we're not a couple,
but we had been living together
since I don't know when.
Why I can tell you how the day will go
by the way she breaks wind.
Now I'll say good morning,
no matter which end of her speaks first.
She'll excuse herself
and run off to the bathroom,
for some water
and the medication in her purse.
Being a man,
I'll at least open a window,
and wonder which end
of her is more intelligent.
You see with me
She doesn't waste any time
speaking her mind,
So, as a gentleman.
I only listen to the end that wears lipstick.
Now I've been told that a lady,
doesn’t fart or break wind, they either
poot, pass gas or lose their manners.
But if you ask me it all smells the same.
As she walks around
making her little musical sounds.
It has the added side effect of us
not needing an exterminator.
As a man, blessed with a poor since of smell.
My need to ventilate the room as you can tell,
is more to for the health of my house plants.
Who are at this moment
trying to jump out the window.
Now don’t get me wrong,
she is a lovely woman.
Her figure and grace
I will describe
as poetry in motion.
She moves with a carefree coordination
that would make you a fan
of her ability to walk and chew bubble gum.
It’s like Wrigley’s invented
chewing gum just for her.
Categories:
break wind, cute love, fantasy, humor,
Form:
Free verse
(1) The Catch
Her little face fell:
Gentle hands caught it
And restored it
To its proper place
With a kiss upon
Each chubby cheek
(2) An Observation On Good Manners
It is not considered acceptable
To break wind
In polite society
Therefore
I don't mix
With polite society
And fart to my heart's content
In my own company
(3) The World’s Last Great Poem
Undoubtedly, this has got to be
The greatest poem ever writ:
It’s clear, concise and to the point
And there ain’t that much of it!
(4) Spider
I sat and watched a spider
Crawling up the wall
Wondering, quite idly,
Why it didn’t fall.
It crawled across the ceiling
Then onto the door
And when it came back down to earth
I squashed it on the floor!
Categories:
break wind, humorous,
Form:
Couplet
‘Old Spice’ and wet grass carry years
of understanding between us.
What I wear and you gather into you,
become a language neither of us know,
but comprehend in mouse-tracks of deduction.
You read grease and engine oil, as if grease and engine oil
were two parts of a book left out in the wet,
a chemical patois revealed by an inborn knowledge
of petroleum pipes, and the long-distance howls
of Alaskan wolves.
If I break wind, you run to me, body rapt and heeding,
every hair translating a smudged paragraph or two into
volumes of memory.
Rubbernecking my attention with a fixed gaze,
(No, Timmy has not fallen down an abandoned mine shaft),
you are just staring at my next question,
willing to jaw with more whiffs of intimacy.
Tales of muddy boots, the flash-fiction of urine trails,
(hers and her canine buddies, not mine),
the breezy gossip of each rabbit hole.
A jargon of us both
surfacing in her millpond eyes,
idioms cresting now on her black nose,
a cloddish lingo,
but it outruns anything that could be said.
Categories:
break wind, poetry,
Form:
Blank verse
Inspired by my Friend Jan Allison
(A one ring circus)
The Flying Flatulences
Watch if you dare
They like to break wind
While they fly through the air
No effort at all
As they flutter with ease
Letting lose, then clinging
As if on trapeze
I might say you lie
If you've not seen them yet
And their brilliant finale
Above the porcelain net
They must be the greatest
I'm sure you must think
But to tell you the truth
Their act really stinks
Categories:
break wind, humorous,
Form:
Light Verse
Rapping music is a crack
In my behind where the wind blows
Country is all I know
Rock makes me want to hit my toes
Easylisten is where my mind lets loose
Rap makes me break wind like a goose
Music is for the soul to relax
After rap my body is like a shaking shack
By Curtis Ray Murray
Categories:
break wind, mystery, social, song-me,
Form:
ABC