Best Funny Love Poems
From childhood it was a world of two...you and I...
I leaned lightly, leisurely against your heart and you let me in.
We were five I use to draw you rose scented flowers
using an ordinary led pencil. Youth! The world was ours.
Seven! I know that was the first time I saw you blush.
I whispered a song for you so no one else would hear.
Oh when we were nine! The potato sack race. I entered with Lisa.
You gave me that look. Oh that look! And you left without a word.
At eleven years old I had my "magic wink". "A Magic Wink" you'd
say sarcastically. How it made you giggle to make fun of it.
It was at thirteen we decided to burn the gym floor with our moves.
Our first dance. You stole my breath. Emptied the room of oxygen.
Fifteen...we started running and my God we ran and ran...
our shoe prints dug into the concrete. It was then I knew. Forever.
Then suddenly at seventeen in the slip of time you left, dissapeared.
Stunned! I slept through the next two years even in the full light of day.
At nineteen I swam an endless pool but even the chlorine couldn't
clear your scent from my memory as my spirit filled out hard as steel.
Was it on my twenty first birthday you showed up? You showed up
tried to hug me hello. Silent! Cold! I turned and walked away.
Was I still twenty one when I apologized for that day. When you asked
for an explanation. I recited false words but we both knew. Hurt for hurt.
Then at twenty five we still had issues to work out. I asked you bluntly
why you cut me loose in the prime of our youth. You my first and only.
I asked the question that burned in my gut. Without words your eyes spoke.
You were still in love with me. There was only me. I your first and only.
Finally our lips met to never part again. Left to wonder why, I accept our
lives without an answer. My love was that. Why would I have let you go?
Older than old now. One last time you leave. Death makes this choice.
Alone again I remember how I never knew why once you left.
Not everything is explained or understood,
like music by a one arm man playing a violin.
I sport my blank stare. Naked is the body of life.
Mystery sings blind the song of the lark!
and I...
i think of you.
March 29 2015
Armand
If only I could make my way to Paris
To search the boulevards and rainy rues
I'd look to find my lonely heart an heiress
An Irish lass vacationing her muse
We'd find a quiet cafe' on the Seine
Where we could sit and share a laugh or two
By candlelight we'd toast with French champagne
Pretend that we were on our honeymoon
But how could I convince her I'm the one
To make all of her fantasies come true
She knows there's more to life than having fun
In Paris hearts get easily confused
I'd get down on one knee under the stars
Give her the paper ring off my cigar
an original poem by Daniel Turner
I've never kissed a pig with my eyes closed
Nor have I ever held a hand of time
However, there was once when I proposed
But that was back when I was in my prime
I still recall how much she loved to dance
She'd laugh at me and make my face turn red
She taught me all the secrets of romance
That love was what one did, not what one said
I search the shadows for her purple hue
I take her mem'ry everywhere I go
Its smile has it's own special shade of blue
Its taste so sweet no one could ever know
They tell me only time mends broken hearts
I wonder just how long before it starts.
by Daniel Turner
Out there
With her flair for chasing inspiration
She draws you in her reason
Connecting dots and constellations
Tripping
She takes you by the hand
Her world as messy as her mind
You need a guide
And as you wade through her chaff
Her heaps of half thoughts
Her every whim expressed
The only thing you know for sure is
Out there exists
Date: 11.19.2019
Contest Name: Disarray
Sponsor: Nina Parmenter
For BigFoot I searched everywhere.
In all the Northwest, he’s not there!
Then I thought I might know
where a BigFoot might go . . .
so I went where the barbers cut hair!
To fit in and be like the rest
of us humans, he’d look his best.
so I went to each shop
where I thought he might stop
to have hair removed from his chest.
To Hollywood soon I was led.
I’d heard of a man with a head
like a wolf’s, full of hair,
making everyone stare.
What I found was Hugh Jackman instead!
Then a man I could not see too well
crossed my path at a fancy hotel.
When I got a good look,
that was all that it took!
It was furry but small, Steve Carell!
The last guy I saw in that land
of Hollywood stars acted grand.
That guy, very hairy
made Big Foot less scary.
He went by the name Russell Brand.
From Hasselhoff to Bradley Cooper,
some hairy guys are super duper!
I kept at my quest
when to the southwest
I moved, for I’m always a trooper.
I searched high and low, five years more,
but by then, I had grown very poor.
I had always liked shoes,
so thought I would choose
a job in a classy shoe store.
Like Carrie in “Sex in the City,”
I loved my work, and I looked pretty
with swank heels on my feet,
yet I felt incomplete
There was no Mr. Big! Such a pity!
But while working one day without care.
I looked up Can you guess who was there?
This odd creature so tall
made Shaquille look too small.
And he hardly could hide all his hair!
No fresh smelling flower was he,
but kindly I sensed him to be.
As I stooped down to put
my hand on that Big Foot,
I knew fate had led him to me!
Written by Andrea Dietrich
On this merry-go-round
Of breakups and breakdowns
Singing the blues
In our ding-a-ling shoes
We take our heartache's milkshakes
Spiked with itty-bitty pity
Before we tangle and wrangle
In the rebound playground.
4/16/20
Poem of the Day
April 18, 2020
More interesting the way you wrestle
never meaning hurt..
flirting.., with a skillfull mind
and matching tongue.
Twice as agile your swift feet, gleeful toes,
play like little lady fingers, jabbing,
bobbing and weaving in the morning sun.
What a change I witness when the gloves come off
colors raised in stormy impassioned eyes.
So many dimensions,
when you go hard..
even more uncovered..
when you go soft.
Light coral shaded lips,
paler still long neck, brimming in fire.
how the veins sing to me..
though quietly now,
grow insistent.
Getting close, like a creature
not used to light.
A waterfall effect lost
in finest peach hair fields, many
curves and valleys explored
in mosquito nets of night.
Endlessly curious to know,
what a fighter wants..
what a fighter needs,
in love.
Return now from the ropes to knock me off.
My eyes anxiously await a detente
when yours turn soft.
As I look back, it all seems funny now
Recalling all those awkward teen age years
I pushed the limits farther than allowed
Supposedly when young, we had no fears
Infatuation caught me with the blues
My heart was swollen by love's gentle sting
It was a crush that only left a bruise
Left by the diamond in her wedding ring
The first day I laid eyes on her, I fell
The lightning bolt she was, that shook my world
And to this day I swear I'd know her smell
Could she have read my mind, she'd likely hurled
I hated school but never missed her class
She said she loved me 'cause I made her laugh
original poem by Daniel Turner
What underhanded monkey business
razzle-dazzle bull is this?
Whose double-crossing, flimflam scam,
debauchery or hocus sham
is wheeling dealing in romance,
putting lovers in a trance?
Antics, capers or witch's brew,
enchanting hymns or shaman's stew,
whose quackery or voodoo drink
made Casanova stop and think
and turned the ancient lovers cold;
poor Romeo and nymphs of old?
Perhaps black magic's potent gel,
or craftiness or wicked spell,
a clever con or master hoax,
or just some trickster playing jokes.
Whatever ruse that works the arts,
mumbo jumbo seduces hearts!
I once dated a pilot …
We both had our head in the clouds
Our relationship lead to a lot of turbulence -
I guess it never really got off the ground!
I once dated a glazier…
He thought I would be putty in his hands
But I could see right through him…
He was constantly smashed
I once dated an undertaker…
He knew he had stiff competition
I couldn’t cope - he was always ‘coffin’ when he picked me up in his hearse
He had no sense of humour in fact he was dead boring
I once dated an angler
The thought he was a real catch…
But the scales soon fell from my eyes
As he was obsessed with his flies
I once dated a footballer
He thought he could score with me
Told me he had great tackle…
But it was just a load of balls
I once dated a fishmonger…
He thought he was cod’s gift to women
He invited me back to his plaice…
Where I found out he was really a cold fish
Submitted to 101 poems in a row
Sponsored by PD Linda:-)
15th April 2016
I thought it was kind of romantic
I wasn't being a fanatic
I pulled it out in the cold
You thought that was a bit bold
I wrote it in the snow about you and me
How much I love you I wrote it with my pee
I almost froze it off - it and my left ball
Then you hurt me when you said it was too small
It's like out of the pool
It follows the same rule
Not that I expected you to drool
But you didn't need to be cruel
Now I pull it out again and what I write
Your not going to like - it might cause a fight
Not just what it says about you that is quite biting
But the fact it was your sister who did the writing
She sits perched, like a gorgeous gargoyle, upon the boulder
splotched with spots of mint chocolate ice cream moss - the wind tasting
her lovely locks as if it were spicy cinnamon straight off the tree.
It excites the senses (to put it frankly) watching her gaze
pierce the sapphire roof of the world
with a challenge to be met.
Or was it the twinkle in her smile
that shone like polished ivory, reminding me of the legalities
of elephantine tusks, and the slippery slope of falling
for that gracious grin and hallowed hope.
It could just be, she's got a lasso on my heart,
that takes delight in my vertigo - flipping and flopping
much like an oval shaped wheel.
I'd ask her to grease the hinges, or go back to the drawing board,
but to tell the truth - it adds character to the path
digging dangerously into the dirt dutifully
causing a spray of pebbles to the face of normalcy.
It could just be, that letting go ain't in her vocabulary,
reeling me in like a big fish story in one of those backwater
little ponds, that spawn such discrepancy.
I'd say she's a catch, but that would be cheesy
(though that does bring to mind her chef-like tendencies,
plopping strawberries on my tongue with little tidbits
of Wisconsin sharp cheddar)
It could just be, that life according to Miss Ooh-La-La
couldn't get any better ...
... then again it could just be
I'm waxing eloquently.
The name's Ike.
Some a ya might a met me before,
in my very first write,
and knew me as the stalker with the walker.
"Retired Romance" was the name,
Spoke about meetin' my wife,
She's here with me, name is Jane.
I likes ta call her the Mrs.,
cause I never thought that would happen again.
Now she like ta near smother me with kisses,
but gives me room ta write now and then.
We had us one of them honeymoons,
she says it ain't over yet.
But dang, if'n it ain't over soon,
we'll have ta call me in a vet!
Ennyways, I wanted ta give y'all a heads up
that I'll be a writin' from time to time .
We'd like ta thank y'all for the nice thumbs up,
'bout our first little Retired Romance rhyme,
and let y'all know that me and the Mrs. .. well..
. ..we doin' just fine !
. "Nite nite darlin."
This is just for fun..=)
In the basement of my heart
there is a basement
and in that basement there are two basements.
You open one
and enter the basement
only to find out there is yet another basement
That basements basement
was light and blue
But that basements basement
was black
from basement to basement you walked
until you couldn't anymore
The basements basements
basements basements basements
basements basements basements basement
of my heart.
You found my love...
Butterflies have the quietest wings
Defying the weight of their flutterings
Your red face has shown
What you did not want known
Your fight to keep them from escaping
10.02.2019
Writing Challenge, October - Butterfly -
Sponsor, Dear heart - Wiishkobi Ode