Best Funnymother Poems
There’s nothing like a mother in law.
My mother in law is quite a trip.
Every time she gets up from a chair
she has to let one rip.
I mean, you will never participate
in a fart like one of these.
You know without a doubt
who cracked that awful cheese.
She just fans it and goes her way.
Just as sassy as your please,
as if it wasn’t her that
stirred that awful breeze.
I thought I would shame her once
and cut her to the floor.
She just laughed and hiked that hip
and gave me one or two more.
And as the green fog raised the roof
I gagged, rubbing my eyes and swore,
Mom, you’re the champ, I can’t beat
that hole you just blew through the door.
© Jun 7 2011 Charles Henderson
For Brian's 2,4,6, or 8 line form contest
How sweet is mother nature
When you gotta go you gotta go
How sweet is mother nature
Can be slight to heavy flow
How sweet is mother nature
To reach out to me every month
How sweet is mother nature
Wll menopause ever come
How sweet is mother nature
does she have an attitude
How sweet is mother nature
Can she stop us from being rude
How sweet is mother nature
As sweet as she can be
How sweet is mother nature
Sweet enough to make me
A Visit by the Mother-in-Law
By Elton Camp
My mother-in-law lives in another state
Her annual visits I most intensely hate
For her daughter, I wasn’t good enough
So, from the old crone I get lots of guff
“To Mother you better be nicer this time.
She will regret calling you a ball of slime.”
Unless wife I obey and welcome the grouch,
Then for two weeks, I’ll sleep on the couch
So I did everything that my wife had asked
My welcome of Mom Bea was unsurpassed
I had a vase of flowers waiting in her room
And I was careful as to how dress and groom
I made sure the yard was all mowed and neat
And practiced the best way our guest to greet
Nothing at all must go wrong on this trip
I was determined not to make a single slip
“Come in, Mother Bea, and stay a long while.
Your visits are welcome and make me smile.”
But I will admit that it almost made me gag
To have to talk so sweet to that mean old hag
“Son, I am so glad to learn you feel that way.
I feel ashamed and don’t know what to say.”
I told her that the problems we had had before
I’d see that they never will happen any more
Our four-year-old son from his room came out
To see just what all the friendly talk was about
“Hello there you sweet little dear, Gram is here.
Into this dismal home you do bring such cheer.”
Joey then ran over and climbed up into her lap
Around him, Mother Bea her arms did wrap
Our son looked at me and so loudly he calls
“You’re right, Dad, she smells like mothballs.”
Rain is not an ordinary child.
Rain is wild.
As if wild is not enough
Rain is tough.
Her mother tucks her in with care,
looks again, Rain’s not there.
Her father roars,
“You named her Rain,
no wonder she is such a pain.”
Her mother strikes back balefully.
“You bully, why do you blame me?
The child was marked by you as well.
She thinks that all you do is yell.”
Though Rain’s parents live in strife,
her dad adores his spitfire wife.
“I wish” he says, “She’d play with Breeze.
When she’s with him I am at ease.”
Her mother says, “I’ll zigzag down
and look for her around the town.
She’s been with Wind a lot of late,
together trouble they create.”
They roar and flash
and then they see
Rain playing in puddles peacefully.
“Where have you been? By all the powers,
we’ve looked for you for hours and hours”.
Rain answers her parents with a smile.
“I thought I’d just be gone a while.
I went with Breeze a bit, to play.
Wind came and we got carried away.
Dad yells, but Mother shakes her head.
“We’ve had a rough night. Let’s go to bed.”
By: Joyce Johnson
Fo Contest........ Rain, The Story
Sponsored by Constance La France ~The Rambling Poet~
Remember the song Yankee Doodle Dandy?
Well, now, his real name was Tony
They claim he went to town one day
And even invented macaroni
Well, I've got a story to tell you
They may be a bit of a surprise
Everything they sung about
Was nothing but a whole bunch of lies
First of all he wasn't a yankee
He was born in the state of Kentucky
He didn't have no pony either
He had a great big yellow rubber ducky
See, Tony just wasn't very bright
His IQ was only three
Dumb as a box of hammers
And as ugly as could be
The kind of face only a mother could love
Well, maybe, a mother could like
He's been that way all of his life
From the time he was just a tyke
Now, Tony like to play with earthworms
But it was a word he just couldn't say
So he called them worms macaroni
For that's the only thing he ate all day
And about that thing he called a town
Well that was only his toilet
I was gonna tell you earlier
But I just didn't wanna spoil it
That's the story of Yankee Doodle Dandy
And every word I said is true
The feather and the hat is a whole other story
But for now this will have to do
The Mother-in-Law’s New Perfume
By Elton Camp
One thing that makes Mother Roberts first rate
Is that she lives way off in Washington State
But the time for her annual visit has rolled around
And staying with us for two weeks she’d be found
“Tomorrow we go over to meet Mother’s flight
And if you know what’s good for you, pretend delight.”
My wife’s words were accompanied by a certain look
That I had learned from the past better not be mistook
“I sent her a bottle of perfume and said it was from you.
Make sure that she doesn’t learn that it’s really not true.”
The only type of gift that to her I would have conveyed
Would be along the lines of a powerful hand grenade
So, to the airport the two of us, next day, went along
Lest I sleep on the couch, I wouldn’t do anything wrong
At the luggage carousel, I said what I had rehearsed
And mentioned the gift I sent her right at the first
“I put it on just now after the plane the runway hit
Of all the gifts you’ve picked I must say this is it.”
When we got close enough the perfume to smell
I immediately found that it made her stink like hell
I allowed that there had never been another like that
And was greatly relieved that on the back seat she sat
When we got home, Mother Roberts pulled me aside
“I don’t like it either, so your feelings needn’t hide.”
My Mother is silly;
She fell in love with Billy,
And they went to Italy
Where it was chilly.
They became married
And my Mother carried
Some berries,
To make crabapple stew!
You never loved an apple tree,
As much as I hate a flea;
They leap, they spring without wings,
And march to tunes that mother sings.
They hide in rugs and in stuffed chairs,
And pay no heed to anxious stares;
They infest dogs and prey on cats,
And hide in woven straw doormats.
Fleas that went to an idiot's school,
Have no time to play the fool;
But mother is a saint at war,
With all the fleas that feast on gore.
When mother takes out spray for fleas,
They see her coming on her knees;
They hide in cracks and nether parts,
Waiting till the fume departs.
Let us now make a firm vow,
Those fleas are bringing trouble now;
So mother sprayed the house with gas,
And all the fleas breathed their last.
Someone said, "Bring back the funny"
But I'm not mentioning any names ( Faleshia )
So if this just ain't your cup of tea
Then she's the one you blame
Here's a story about Mother Nature
Did you know she had four sons?
Winter, Spring, Summer and Fall
But they weren't her only ones
She had an affair with Father Time
And had another bouncing baby boy
Since all the seasons were already named
They just called that poor kid Roy
Now, Roy was kinda the black sheep
He liked to color outside the lines
He always stayed in trouble with the law
And Mother Nature, had to pay his fines
Now, he really didn't have much talent
Though he was born with a silver spoon
But everytime that boy would sneeze
It would snow somewhere in june
Well, they tried to keep him a secret
But the snow was taking its toll
So she told that boy to use his hanky
Everytime he needed to blow
Now remember, Roy was the black sheep
So he paid his mother no mind
He just kept right on blowing his nose
Til he thought he'd surely go blind
So the next time you're on vacation
And it starts to snow in june
Remember this story I told you
About the boy with the silver spoon