Best Comics Poems
He talks to the fish
And they hear his every wish
He swims in their pee
Way out in the sea.
The Keystone Cops were funny
Chaplin, Keaton, and Fields too.
Laurel & Hardy and Will Rogers
were some of the names we knew.
Who can forget the Stooges
or all the pies we saw them throw.
Who didn't laugh at the Brothers Marx
or Abbot & Costello?
Berle, Caesar, Crosby & Hope
could always bring a tear.
So would Allen, Paar, Kovacs, and Carson
as they guffawed us to the floor.
Gleason had Carney, Martin had Lewis, Lucy had Desi
and Carol Burnett had her crew.
Cosby, Pryor, and Murphy
all taught us to laugh anew.
Cohen, Benny, Diller, Rivers, and Rickles
are names that we recollect.
Who wouldn't fall out of his chair
when Rodney "Got no respect."
Let's not leave out any of the Brits as
Benny Hill, Mr. Bean, and the Two Ronnies were funnier than some.
Their take on humor was a bit different from our own
But that's why we had such fun with Faulty Towers and Monty's Python.
We have had Billy, Whoopi, Robin, and Carlin,
Johnny, Jay, Dave, and too many more to name.
But each still brings us laughter,
Today their job's the same.
They still poke fun at life's human side
as did the jester who first began the gaff.
So, when a comic entertains you...
Be generous with your laughs.
Not a mythical creature,
or the patriarch of a lewd, cartoon family,
you are my roommate.
Well, one of them,
and you have been for two years now.
Superhero posters make your room your own.
Perhaps you’re concealing a secret identity
when you refuse to hang out with us;
on late night drives,
lunch or dinner,
all we do is make awkward small talk.
And you’re the only one
to keep his door locked.
Your girlfriend never comes around anymore,
you’re always at her place,
though, we don’t mind.
Sometimes it’s hard to tell where you are.
Perhaps you’re a murderer,
waiting for us to leave
so you can indulge in violent ceremony.
Whatever you’re into.
In the words of Jerry Garcia,
I implore you,
“Please don’t murder me.”
“Post Pep Comics”
In this time,
there are no children -
we refer to them as the 'undead'.
The young watch on
while their gods war on, it’s all televised,
committing abominable atrocities, war crimes.
Like ancient souls held in the palms
of the war machine they watch on
like zombies, vacant things
scrolling, weighing their relevance
against those dressed in designer ozempic scales, while worlds away
the third-class child attends their lessons in starvation,
surviving death and bullets
trafficked and war torn, raped and
psychologically taken,
click bait;
bleeding into the small tight margins
of Western comics where the Eagle always wins.
Archie and Jughead dispense their puerile rules,
rating us like commodities, stocks that rise and fall;
it’s all entertainment
after all.
Candide Diderot. ‘26
Brave and bold Captain America was always there
Standing up for truth and the American way
Captain America flew through the air,
So justice would prevail and save the day.
His distinctive star and billowing cape
Signs of the legend from Marvel’s comic books
He was always able to get out of any scrape
To the disappointing dismay of professional crooks.
FOURTH PLACE WINNER
Written May 8, 2022
for "Captain America" Poetry Contest
sponsored by Robert James Liguori
Some of the sexiest women are Vargas’s 1940 pinup girls,
They are drawn with long hair, sensuous legs, and the right kind of curls.
Enhanced in all the right places, there is nothing that exudes sex faster
Graphic drawings of cattish women are not the kind you put out to pasture.
Do you remember Cat-Woman drawn fearlessly by our old friend Stan Lee?
Hallee Berry brought her to life, but the one who graphically created her was he.
Betty Boop, a cartoon femme fatale’ had style, and sex that could make a sailor blush,
Disney’s artists’ did not draw a Tinker Bell without perky boobs and a little tush.
I believe graphic novels and cartoon classics are here today to stay,
Because the sexy superheroes – both men and women make the reader’s day.
Captain America and Batman have those enormous abs, and a teeny waist.
Jessica Rabbit’s ‘I’m not bad, I’m just drawn that way,” was not penned with any haste.
Written 11-18-2018 Contest: Sexy Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Lewis Raynes
It was the second morning of “daylight savings time,” and the change was noticeable.
My BF Peter has a doctorate in applied physics, he's an expert, so I asked him, “How do they move the sun?”
He gave me one of his patented, blank looks, “What, who moves the sun?” He answered.
“Well, yes,” I said, “I suppose the “who” is important, but HOW do they move the sun? Peter can be dense sometimes.
“What are you TALKING about?” Peter asked, his head tilted in confusion.
I explained, “It’s daylight savings, ya? The sun is different, SO - how do they move the sun?”
“They don’t MOVE the sun,” he said, in a smug "I've got a PhD" way, “people set their clocks ahead an hour.”
I was stunned - Could it all be a cheap trick?
How, (I snorted in my mind) could they get everyone on earth to do THAT?
I didn’t argue, but I didn’t set my Apple Watch ahead or my laptop, or my desktop, or my iPad or Alexa - his “apotheosis” was obviously wrong.
He’s a new PhD, they just haven’t told him how they do it yet. I can wait. I patted his hand for support.
Peter also says that, out there in the “multiverse,” there may be an earth where I don’t have homework. First of all, isn’t it just like a guy to believe all of that “marvel comic” stuff?
“So, Superman’s real then?” I asked. He just lowered his head - burn: I had him there.
Secondly, can he get me/us to this planet “No homework?” NO.
Applied physics may very well be useless.
.
.
Webster: Apotheosis: a perfect example of something
**I used this incorrectly on purpose (crossing heart) I swear.
Spawn Variant, with powers unheard,
With magic and strength, your every word.
Shadows and darkness, your timeless reign,
Variant shows a world that's not in vain.
With flick of wrist and flash of light,
Variant transforms the world in sight.
Changing landscapes with spells so rare,
Anything is possible in Spawn's dark lair.
Rivers run red, with blood and fire,
As Variant's powers take gamers higher.
The mountains rise, with peaks so high,
As Variant's magic touches the sky.
The creatures are fierce, unnerving, and bold,
But Variant's magic makes them cold.
With every wave of your hand, you instil the fear,
So that everypath, every step, every end is clear.
With powers so vast, Variant guides the way,
Changing the world, with what you choose to say.
A different world, a new way to survive,
With Variant at your side, bringing you alive.
So come one, come all, join the hunt,
Unleash your powers, and take the stunt.
Embrace the shadows, and rule the land,
For Variant is here, with magic so grand.
Jewish comics like Jackie Mason
He didn't really find funny,
But he was getting hold of
The wrong end of the comedy schitck.
COMICS
Remember the comics?
Sunday morning
Paper at the door
After breakfast
Sprawled on the floor
Reading the comics
The characters
Both colorful and exciting
8 full pages
Variety inviting
Loving the comics
Hoople and Martha
Tracy and his Tess
Every Sunday
They’re in such a mess
Laughing at the comics
Mutt and Jeff
Mutt so tall
Jeff like Stan Laurel
Vacuous and small
Needing the comics
Sunday’s rest
A chance to renew
Popeye Alley Oop
Blondy Valiant too
Back in the fifties, when I was at an impressionable age,
science fiction comic books were all the rage.
Rockets rushing to the stars,
spaceships, landing on Mars.
Wrist communicators, minature TVs,
super pills, to get rid of disease.
Orbiting space stations, and satelites,
airliners, making supersonic flights.
Submersibles, plunging to fantastic depths,
free swimming divers, exploring ancient wrecks.
Man on the moon, driving electric cars,
robots, serving drinks to people in bars.
Jet propelled back packs, allowing man to fly free at last,
computers, doing every conceivable task.
It was fiction then, but now it's mostly true,
so It just goes to show, what mans imagination can do.
Tango.
~ To the tune of:
'Where Have All the Flowers Gone?' ~
Where have all the comics gone
Long time passing
Milton Berle and Alan King
Long time did their thing
Where have all their insults gone
Long time passing
Don Rickles and Groucho Marx
Echo in empty parks
Where has all the slapstick gone
Long time passing
Larry, Moe, and Curly Joe
Gave way to milquetoast shows
Where have all the tap dancers gone
Sammy Davis, Donald O’Connor
Bumpers and grinders of today
Do the greats a dishonor
Where have all the comics gone
Georgie Jessel and George Burns
Gone the way of Romantic poets’ poems
~ Like Keats’ ‘Ode to a Grecian Urn’
Dogpatch
Daisy Mae
Little Abner
T. Cornpone USA
Al Capp
These sleek pages make my bimonthly bible;
Like Last Supper savored, with conviction.
They are rooted in something old, primal.
Inhaled so fast; it must be addiction.
The roles, though imagined, are dynamic.
Caution, the plots are filled with dreamy mist.
These are new classics, tragic and epic.
Triumphs are true, but failures too persist.
Reds are bright, matched only by warring Mars;
Blues this pure, very few feathers possess.
Stretching muscles are paired with ragged scars.
Colors do gleam after every success
How could this dull world attempt to compare,
When the best time of day is the time spare?
With The Dandy, The Beano
The Eagle and Dan Dare
Dick Barton on the radio
The Goon Show on air
Riders of the Range
Journey into space
We kids of the fifties
Had our special place
Glued to the wireless
No screens in sight
The Third Programme the
Home Service and the light
When Sunday night came
Waiting patiently about
For Radio Luxembourg
Fading in and out.
Carters little liver pills
Horace Bachelor’s tips
For winning the Pools
Fish and four of chips
Salt and vinegar Splash
Newspaper wrapping
Listenining to the music
Feet quietly tapping
Playing in the fields
Hours out in the wild
This was the life of
A fifties poor child.
No time to be miserable
Deprived or dull
With such a childhood
So active and full.
Dennis the Menace Desperate Dan
Biffo, Ace Detective Harris Tweed
From the Eagle Dandy and Beano
All those comics we used to read