Get Your Premium Membership

Best Cracking Up Poems | Poetry

Below are the all-time best Cracking Up poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of cracking up poems written by PoetrySoup members

Search for Cracking Up poems, articles about Cracking Up poems, poetry blogs, or anything else Cracking Up poem related using the PoetrySoup search engine at the top of the page.

See Also:

Poems are below...



New Cracking Up Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best Cracking Up poems are below this new poems list.

Cracking Up by Anish, Matthew
Cracking up and cracking down by Loefgren, Johnette
Cracking Up by Leighton, Luke Kenneth Casson

View all new Cracking Up Poems

The Best Cracking Up Poems

Details | Cracking Up Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Cracked

Impressionist Poem

Crack head
Crack pot
Cracking up


Copyright © Denise Morgan | Year Posted 2015


Details | Cracking Up Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Howling Mad

The beard line came within a 1/4" from a field of chest hair and called a truce on this wild mop headed man-child who spoke with such decibel excitement his voice waned from totally cracking up to a young southern officer's bass drawl.  Demandingly adolescent it was, but more experienced than mine.  He paced back and forth on wooden planked floors in the only lit room of his family's farm house.  Surely no one was sleeping.  It was as if I was the very first guest.  It was quite uncomfortable.  He was pushy like a realtor showing you your 13th house in a month, so desperate for you to fall in love with it.
  "What do you think of these drawings?"  inquiring innocently.  They were sad.  They were frightening, but artistically wonderful and marvelous.
  "You did these.... WOW! This is great Bobby!"  I exclaimed.  I thought for a split second he would yell out CAPTAIN CAVE MAN!!! and go crashing through the window, then I remembered earlier in the day he showed me his Salman Rushdie book and I started feeling scared as hell.  This guy might have brought me here to kill me.  He wasn't intimidating or a bully, not very powerful or athletic, but totally energetic and manic.  He could do it.  I knew he could, but I would have to be asleep.  This would be a sleepless night.


Copyright © Brian Martin | Year Posted 2015


Details | Cracking Up Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Autumn Moon

Born with promise
A contender, president
The world is your oyster
We don't have a choice
To who we put our faith in
We have to trust and believe
That they will see us through
To a better life then they had.

It's sad that you hold
Fast and true to what
Happened all those seasons ago
Stuck back at ten
You were happy and content
You could be again
They've made amends
But they'll never pay off your debts...

Many have come and passed
With high hopes
But you just let them down
For all the beauty they've given
Will never compare to the one 
Mistake they made
A grave you've been digging
For them to lie in
It's barely warm...

The outside can be 
Manipulative, manufactured
The world will only
See what you care to show
While the inside is constantly shredded
There was a time when you
Couldn't stop the bleeding
Now you need anger
The slightest of slights
To drive your muse
But why does it really matter?
At the end of the day
You're an amateur at truly counts
Intimacy...

You can teach 
An old dog new tricks
You've been conditioned
To believe the reverse
But the curse of 
A child once blessed with promise
Has never been lifted
And you're slowly cracking up
Can only compartmentalize
For only so long
To risk, to be vulnerable
F..kin hurts...


Afraid to to make a move
That isn't calculated
Where nothing is expected
But what you feel
At this moment, stasis
Cause the enemy list
Is constantly growing
But the author forgets
To write the one name
That is the true architect
Of this deadly fate
The power is within you
To change or spend the rest
Of my waking days
Inside the dream of what could have been
You may be breaking but
There is hope
That this life isn't at an end.

P-1/21/12.


Copyright © eric ploscik | Year Posted 2016


Details | Cracking Up Poem | Create an image from this poem.

You Found Me

You Found Me

The wind blows with a fury
branches cracking up above
storm of the century
on Her hands tiny gloves

forward She pushes 
rain pelting Her face
seeking refuge in bushes
Her heart beating apace

a glowing light in the distance
begs Her to proceed
but with no assistance
she stumbles and scrapes Her knees

brown almond eyes raised to the sky 
blood seeping through white stockings
fresh tears begin to flow from Her eyes
She hugs Her shins,starts rocking

suddenly where once there was light
a dark shadow had begun to grow
all She can do is hug her legs tight
closes Her eyes she does not want to know

the shadow comes nearer
a human form it now takes
She see's him now clearer
no sound does She make

your safe now he says eyes quiet and kind
holds out to her his hand
he reaches the place that is deep in her mind     
pulls her out and helps her stand

don't fear little one I was sent to you
never more will you look for the light
I will see you through all that you do
and no longer will life be a fight

the tiny girl in her heart now skips 
no longer feeling the pain
eager to continue on lifes little trip
never alone again.

In her Heart she will always be
indebted to this one
in his hand he held the key
and led Her to the sun.






Copyright © Leah Brown | Year Posted 2007


Details | Cracking Up Poem | Create an image from this poem.

STRESS

Sometimes your body and mind will try to
Tell you that there things you have to let go
Remember there is only so much you can
Expect to really cope without cracking up
So when things starts to get little to much
Sit down and relax until you feel a bit better


Copyright © john doherty | Year Posted 2016


Details | Cracking Up Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Interpreting Visitations

Many baffled on what to think?
As they probed these strange dabs of ink
Some wandered in n' left scratching their head
Others dismissed quickly n' moved on instead
But the king wasn't so easily turned away
Had everything including the best seers
n' prognosticators of the day
With his signet ring one stamp would bind
into law of the land that all must obey
If broken his command'd fling them in the
furnace or to gallows or to dungeon where
they'd stay
When he bellowed out for his coat of arms
the armor bearer hastily appeared
Struck with mood to be amused called for
the one who snake charms n' their diabolical
head reared
For entertainment summoned dancers
n' gymnasts n' minstrels n' actors to leave
him cracking up or solemnly teared
But rule still proved with rod of iron whether
those belonging to his court or mere peasants
that he was to be feared
Yet night after night he was plagued with
troubling dreams
He demanded from his magicians n' 
soothsayers to divulge interpretation n' none
of them could tell what it means
But word came to him there was one of the
exiled Hebrew boys who claimed he was gifted
from his God to logically unravel these
night visions
Alas he could rest in peace knowing he had
someone who could delve into his slumbering
gray matter fissions
Some years later a hand appeared quick on the
wall by the candlestick while the king of that
day n' his cohorts were making merry
Sobered up with just one look even his knees
together shook 'til one said there's one who
can tell us what this writing means
so he said go get him and do not tarry
When Belteshazzar or Daniel was told 
he came into the presence of the king 
who offered a robe of scarlet n' chain of gold
But Belteshazzar said keep your gifts for
yourself but for the honor of your grandfather
a meaning of the writing will be provided
MENE MENE TEKEL UPHARSIN- your kingdom
has been weighed in the balances and found
wanting- it will be taken from you and
given to the Medes n' Persians-for your
kingdom is divided.
11-1-2016 Duncan R.M.Ferguson


Copyright © Duncan R. M. Ferguson | Year Posted 2016


Details | Cracking Up Poem | Create an image from this poem.

In My Life - On My Own, But Not Alone

Dream of what Tomorrow may bring to our front porch
I’m fearless to say that I used to bleed out remorse
Before I met you…of course
I used to cry myself asleep because I felt so alone
Before I met you, I was on my own
Some say “you must pay the price one way or another”, but I 
say take your time and let your happiness never last
For we are meant to be together forever...live for the now 
and future and don't look back at the wretched past
You don't have to bottle up your tears
Let them pour out of your eyes - you've concealed them for 
years...replace them with cheers, not doubts and fears

*chorus* I never thought that I HAD the bravery and the 
time to save you from the world of woe’s demise – I’m very 
protective over you like a momma bear
But, I must tell you someday, so that you’re aware
That you are someone special in my heart – I can’t conceal 
the truth of what I feel for you deep inside
In my life, in my life, I’m still stuck in the solitary cave 
In my life, in my life, I thought I wasn’t at all brave
I was caved in by the cravings of my heart
The darkness once ripped me apart
But, you repaired me and I recovered pretty fast
So, please listen up! I must tell you about my good and bad 
past
Fear doesn’t exist here 
Get a grip on the rope of hope
All anxieties are gone
We dream on like daydreamers, awaiting another great, 
delight-illuminated dawn 
I’ll love you until my life is no more
I’ll love you, even if you have strayed into the darkness
I love you from the bottom of the ocean to the heavens 
above
I’ll love you – I won’t get over you and you’re my love at 
first sight – you were and still are a dazzling, surreal sight – 
you kiss me and I’m overwhelmed with passionate bliss 
I will love you if you would step out of the abyss with me
I’m fearless to say that I used to bleed out remorse
Before I met you…of course
I used to cry myself asleep because I felt so alone
Before I met you, I was on my own

V.11: I want you back in my life so that I can change 
everything around…trust me, if you dare…and all you give 
me in return is a vacant, expressionless stare
Don’t go…Don’t leave…I want you to stay a while…sit with 
me on the ground and we’ll hang out with each other, 
talking about what’s on our mind and cracking up jokes here 
and there – I’m on my own, but not alone when you’re right 
there!
I’m no longer that magazine, alone on the magazine rack 
You’re a beloved story – in other words,
 ~My dream of reality – you are not a ridiculous myth
Someday, you’ll stay here with me…I pray…I pray that day 
would come someday
Somehow, you’ll see me through the pain…dismiss the 
ghosts of the past…
There’s days when I feel positive when you’re around
At least I'm not grief-stricken or gravity-bound


Copyright © J.W. Earnings | Year Posted 2014


Details | Cracking Up Poem | Create an image from this poem.

You are Here

This morning, at the edge of waking
up came a vision of you, and it was so fragile,
already breaking, and I kept wanting truth,
so I lied,
taking denial and creating love, and forcing
passion inside
the skull and bones, of self, alone,
to realize 
that dreams could take place of life,
and improvize,
unwanted memories, 
with fantastic visions 
of you

Here,
going out with me
to try on, 
those pretty little dresses, 
and the yellow raincoat you looked ridiculous in,
and that little laugh you made
when you saw me cracking up, 
and then we were breaking up

and the pain was so unbearable, for an old man
at his last love, at the last breaking
of that fading sunset heart,
as every night I remember, I can't ever have you
together,
only at dawn, in pieces,
and it's not even real, 
but
a fading photograph of you
is better than nothing at all,
and I still cling, and I still hurt
but I still have
those made up memories
to keep me alive at night.


Copyright © Ph.d Volo Von Wolfenstein | Year Posted 2011


Details | Cracking Up Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Rain

Listen to poem:
Is god crying up there in heaven 
or are the  angels shedding tears. 
mother earth is weeping  at our folly
And that petrichor feelings in the air !

Man's crimes could make a god cry
and angels shed real tears.  
Mother earth is cracking up from fracking
as the rain begins to fall 

lament the missing ozone
and the  falling of acid rain 
and weep as global warming 
causes climate change

oh lord, its so raining in my heart .

03062016 comp entry


Copyright © stephen pennell | Year Posted 2016


Details | Cracking Up Poem | Create an image from this poem.

You Are The Most Common Form Of Entertainment

You are the most common form of entertainment
And I’m hanging off of your every breath
Hoping that you suffocate, while I’m left dangling
You hurt her heart
Her heart, already broken by genetics
And her glass eyes now water wastefully
You’re so guilty
So guilty, and you hopes he feels the same
But I’m telling you
You are the most common form of entertainment
And we’re cracking up at your situation comedy of a life


Copyright © Ashley Daly | Year Posted 2005


Details | Cracking Up Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Cracking Up

Anyone can crack up
Writers, santation workers , cops, 
right - wingers, left wingers
It is not a nice thing to happen 
But not the end of the world if you do 
Many people don't believe in poetry
But we at poetrysoup.com know better, don't we!!
Poetry is the key to emotional help!
At least for people who believe in something
It is best to believe in something


Copyright © Matthew Anish | Year Posted 2016


Details | Cracking Up Poem | Create an image from this poem.

nuts

am i really cracking up my "dear"

a mental institute for me i "fear"

it must be a really nice place

your just a number,not a face

they put you there when you stray

it's somewhere for you to hide away

there you can't do any harm

pumping DRUGS to keep you calm!


Copyright © jennifer smith | Year Posted 2005


Details | Cracking Up Poem | Create an image from this poem.

"Porkpie Jones."

Porkpie Jones has brittle bones, and crusted corn-filled toes,

And sleety eyes and bulgy thighs, and brillo pad elbows,

His underarms are typical farms, and reek a barnyard smell,

Its quite the place for creepy, crawly, parasites  to dwell,

The ample dirt in his ears and on his head has just began to harden,

There's so much dirt on him everywhere, he could grow a flower garden,

The birds fall quickly from the sky, whenever he starts to speak,

His teeth and gums are as black as coal, and all his bone joints squeak,

He trips when he walks, spits when he talks, and spills everywhere when he drinks,

Three triple Dagwood sandwiches to him are a light snack, his decorum and etiquette 
stinks...

The ground shakes when he takes a step, and cars fly when he sneezes,

And he feels free to dine and snack on anything he pleases!

The sight of water gives him chills, and soap will make him screech,

He can't fit in his bathtub, so he bathes at the beach,

Porkpie dives into his drinks, and scorns the use of cups,

And when he falls, some will laugh, but the ground starts cracking up...

He's never been able to touch his toes, he can't reach any farther than his hips,

When he bends over, its always a treat to experience a total eclipse,

His home is in disarray, it needs improvement,

Porkie Orlivander Jones scorns unnecessary movement,

He's absolutely clueless, on how to close the gate,

Or feed his starving fish, or wash his every dish,

Or vacuum his entire floor, where dust mites romp and roam,

Or change his heaping can of trash thats nearly large as Nome,

Loads of bills that he won't pay, coat his table tops,

He puts his Suitcase in his closet, right next to the lamb chops,

Porkpie never was that bright, in school he was a tease,

In fact I think his grades were so low, that he would get straight Z's!

Well we all can learn a lesson here, I'm sure that all is known,

That we must keep our appearances neat, and always brush and scrub our feet,

And be respectful when we eat, or we could all end up like Mr. 

Porkpie Orlivander Alowicious  Alexander GianCarlo Markowitcz Jones!!!!!


Copyright © Daryl Kelley | Year Posted 2005


Details | Cracking Up Poem | Create an image from this poem.

The Mist of Blackness

How are you handling the situation?
Cracking up or enjoying the sensation?
I can not prevent my tear to drop
Along the road as I walk through
Conjuring sadness into the gloom 
Turning every speck into blackness
Thought I could keep my smile forever
But, the sadness shan't go away

Always it shall stay behind
Hiding, awaiting for the time
Where it would strike with no mercy
Hurting one's heart
Yet, I shall try to stop a tear
But, I can not prevent my tear to drop

Thunder, lightning, and blistering nights,
Crept into the sky's light
Destroying the walls of happiness it built,
For ashes and dust is its wish

Smiles evaporated and frowns were created
Unto my face with harsh deed

I shall try to stop tears
Yet, I can not prevent mine,
For the mist of blackness has approached


Copyright © Sara Zahed | Year Posted 2008


Details | Cracking Up Poem | Create an image from this poem.

If you die before me

create a golden route for a poet like me,
let the embodiment of song carved itself
in the palms of the world beyond till lyrics
of faith light to ease the thought of my mind.
If you die before me, tell papa not to cry.
the shrine he left in my hand is still well
planted in the imaginations of his generations. 

tell Fela &Giwa that Nigeria is no better,
tell Chinua Achebe that the water in our 
throat cries of dry ground they stepped on.
we may not be a better cinematographer 
capturing the deeds of this land but your
still photos can crop some timelines to go
with you till I come along to join your trail.

if you die before me, send a word across.
let me know the existence of heaven & hell
if Shakespeare & Okigbo & Buchi are there
so I can change course to path my emotion,
the artistic photography of the tales of hell
are the codeine conscience of anxiety in us. 
we die before the masquerade halt in the air. 

Husky tears would I drop on your grave 
to be taken to Mandela & Luther King. 
there are roses I will take from the clay pot
Of my father to your graveyard to give to Ify
my hearted lover in the morning of miracles.
if you die before me, this tattered call would 
I make to our ancestors for a perfect survival. 

this land is a disco dance hall you must tell 
Yar'du of Fate & tears crossing our eyes
in a patterned way to be christened life's joy.
this land is a feminist like Chimamanda A.N,
this country is a pun star you must tell Ken. 
tell my cousin Ezekiel to wait for me longer,
I am coming. to join him in benedicted rein of 
our country.

If you die before me, I'll be on your graveyard 
for a life time cracking up the foundation of 
the world to find death. I will ask him if the 
other phase is  better than here before coming. 
suffering is not meant to be dreamed twice,
Two week-ed weaknesses are the wink wires
connecting our lives in a radioed embryo .

this is my recap
a captured scene
Let's bake life and dreams
till death call us all to himself
then the world becomes empty
love finds love mingling in hands...
die before me & be my eyes beyond. 


©John Chizoba Vincent 
From_A_Pen_Refusing_frustration.




Copyright © john chizoba vincent | Year Posted 2018


Details | Cracking Up Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Cracking Up

you are the BEST thing
that happened to me
since i broke up
with my life.



Copyright © Luke Kenneth Casson Leighton | Year Posted 2006


Details | Cracking Up Poem | Create an image from this poem.

LATER IT'S CHRISTMAS

The long wait is almost over
Later it’s Christmas
Are we all prepared?
Wait until midnight 

The sweet smell of salad
As luscious as happiness
We’ll make another remembrance
This much awaited Christmas

Cracking up fireworks
Smiling when the nightfall comes
As everyone will start grinning
New memories are about to start

Probably it will be the best
A record breaking Christmas
I’m dying to excitement
Later it’s Christmas


Copyright © Lei Strauss | Year Posted 2015


Details | Cracking Up Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Happy meals

          Lately I have been thinking about how things used to be. When I was about 8 or 9 sitting in 
the back of my father's truck eating happy meals and I was just fine not a care in the world. I just 
couldn't wait to taste those fries or chew my nuggets and dip it into sauce. I used to go crazy for 
thoses kids toys in the plastic rappings. Barbie dolls. Little cars, robots that you could rearrange 
and rebuilt I was facinated by it all. At that time I wasn't tainted at all. My parents they seemed 
truly in love. I wish I could go back to that time. Before the arguments started. Before the 
accusations began. Before my father started to get sick. Before the best thing I've ever known 
started to disappear. Back to that age where innocence was plentiful and Illusions masked my 
gentle heart.  Because at that time we were picture perfect. I had a dad who loved me and a 
mom who would do anything to make me happy. That's all I needed. I don't know when it 
changed. Maybe sometime between 11 or 12 or when my happy meal got an upgrade. I was 
growing up and so little kids meals wouldn't full me anymore.  Neither would little kids fairytales. 
So along with my big mac I started to get big people's problems. I started to recognize  the 
picture for what it really was. My perfect family was cracking up and blowing in the dust. Every 
friday I used to get mcdonalls. Every friday since I was 5. I still practice that tradition. But some 
things are missing. Like my father's car. I can no longer fall alseep in the back seat and pretend I 
don't hear the arguing cause he's gone. So much for my happy meals. How that's for 
growing up?


Copyright © Shahana Jackson | Year Posted 2006


Details | Cracking Up Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Cracking up and cracking down

Cracking up and cracking down 
on the self who can't be found,
(someone said  I  may have drowned)
cracking down on childish rhymes
filling space and taking time
got to get to something fine,
write of all the dreams I ate,
swallowed pride and love and hate,
if I  can negotiate
with the child inside my head,
who really only wants me dead,
(think of all the tears she shed)
maybe if I take her there,
and show her I can truly care,
cracking up would not compare

to simply cracking down.




Copyright © Johnette Loefgren | Year Posted 2006