Best Funnywords Poems
On the beach strolled a woman - ambitious!
She spied a man fishing - delicious!
“Ohhhh, your arms are so strong
and your rod is so long
I bet you catch hundreds of fishes!”
The fisherman looked with surprise
at this beautiful girl with blue eyes.
With words loved by men
she kept reeling him in,
for she always could spot a good prize!
Flirting words and a magical look
were her bait, and that’s all that it took!
The cute gal got her wish,
and if all men were fish,
all the best ones would be on her hook!
The challenge was to write and write
Then write and write and write , all right !
So I wrote and wrote and wrote , as planned .
It was , oh so quick ; it was in short-hand .
It was multi paged and all I needed .
I can write short-hand , but I just can't read it .
So , it might be poetry , or it could be prose .
Perhaps multi haiku , no one knows .
Sonnet , pure , in perfect rhyme
Or out of sync , and not in time .
Perhaps words of love , or maybe hate .
Or the annoying sound of a banging gate .
Sweet pleasantries , like morning smiles
Or the painful itch of bulging piles ?
It's written down in the secret code
Of leafy lanes and country road
Wild boggy fields , with waving rushes.
Or cranky couples , coping with hot flushes .
I can't explain this sorry tale
I feel the words , but they're not in braille .
Sad to say that , " that is that " .
Now I wish I could trottle Matt
As I sit in tears of tormented zest
Trying to finish words for this damned contest !
( This piece was written in 5 days , 8 hours , 7 minutes and 24 seconds ... make that 25
seconds ... sorry 26 ... CUT & FINISH .. ok 27 seconds .......
A man comes up to me and says: I believe in God
Nice for you! :I say to him, but I feel the urge to jog
What do you believe in he questioned,
so I guess I thought and then I mentioned:
Well, I believe in aliens
you know those creatures in U.F.O's
I believe in the loch ness monsters,
and fairies with sparkly toes.
I believe in big foot
and I think the yeti is his cousin,
I believe in the chupacabra
and the moth man stories are a dozen!
He just stared at me then laughed and said:
Those things don't even exist!
Why I asked, there's many sightings
and those poor witnesses insist...
There's not enough or no proof he says
Well I guess you just answered God is also not real.
He gave me look and seethe through his face
the words he was trying to feel.
I told him calm down, no need for a sound,
I believe in the big guy myself.
But your so hypocritical, and your eyes are so minimal
that my words just came out with no help.
You believe in God
and I believe in aliens and I believe in God too.
But next time be kind, to other's way of mind,
cause as you know seeings not believing and
evidence doesn't always go through
And with that I took a bow, of this gentlemen's heavy brow
and went on with a happy tune.
P.D. vs' Amy Gr33n,,Slam, Bam Thank You Ma'am
So Miss @my Gr33n,
Do you think your s__t is mean
Trying to compete
Do you really want to taste defeat
Your dose of medicine, had no effect at all
Your Slam, Bam Thank You Ma'am
Was a sorry booty call.
Trying to talk the talk
Trying to bark and walk
All them words your are saying
Sounds like you are praying
Who really wants to listen?
Who really should care?
And what the hell is that S__t in your hair?
So you think you can play the part.
Before things fall apart
Please @my Gr33n stop before you fart
Trust me it does not matter If I let you win.
Your words are pointless and the idea is pathetic.
Please stop talking you are giving me a headache.
Just stop rhyming.
Sounds like your crying.
Okay pause.............as the moment goes bye.
Giving you a minute before you break down and cry.
My words are a weapon, You know that right.
Next time shut your mouth, keep those lips tight
Let me just stop and bring this to an end.
@my Gr33n remember ....I am your friend
By:P.D.
((once again for fun...thank you Amy Green for the fun slam.))
p.s. S__T stands for shot if you are wondering,,he he he
Couldn’t say it as a kid because it was a sin -
To say that small four letter word - what trouble I got in!
A girl who was my babysitter taught the word to me.
But then at eight, I learned that word’s effect on family. . .
Mischievous and curious were cousin Steve and I;
he too had learned that naughty word. It happened by and by
(after we’d discussed it some and what the bad word meant)
we voiced it ALOUD at a reunion and got sent
to another room where we were scolded mightily.
And for a long while, that foul word was uttered not by me!
Well, you can say that word (these days) -in certain company:
like with bikers and delinquents or my son, an ex-Marine!
But I don’t like to say the word, except when very mad
and in my car in traffic jams: (that’s when I say things bad!)
Then nasty words I’ve read or heard from friends or on TV
become the very words I hear come pouring out of me.
It’s strange how that first naughty word I learned I must not say
is now a word that (if I want to) I can say today!
Nonetheless, I keep that word under lock and key.
I’m glad that we can’t use it here to ruin our poetry!
For the "You Can Say it Now" Contest by Paula Swanson
Entice the essence of the word
A lexicon of value heard
A luxury of words astute
With salutation and salute
Inside this circle, only squares
And children point with double dares
A solo singer comes in pairs
While stepping down to climb the stairs
I'm sending letters without stamp
A street light stands without a lamp;
Deduct the darkness from my bill
My empty tank too full to fill
A centimeter is no inch
Before the punch it's time to flinch
A baker's dozen has thirteen
And what you saw you've never seen
When I get home I've gone away
I work too hard when I'm at play
Tomorrow is my yesterday
My ferrous feet are made of clay
I win the race when I have lost
Find out the price but not the cost
My brand new plane is highway bound
Square holes I own are in the round
I guess I've got a problem here
I ask for wine and got a beer
I know the words but cannot write
I have my eyes but have no sight
I think it's time to go to bed
But when I do I'm getting up
I did not say what I just said
So pour my saucer in my cup
I have become quite the poet
Wouldn't you know it
I have made a bit of racket
With words that spill out of my jacket
Like an old sugar packet
Rhyming is my thing
but words I can not sing
The words I do say
just seem to pay
If only I were so gay
Rhymes forming in my head
As I go off to bed
Words coming faster then I can write
now is my plight
pen and paper in hand is almost to much to stand
I'm just looking for a fan
with all that I have ran
A man of words he was, and words he was alone
For actions never followed, the words he so condoned
And though spoken with eloquence, grandeur, and ample grace
His words seemed not matter when the matter came to face
He spoke of plans to travel, hitchhike highways and sail the seas
Alas his trips were always delayed, claimed he'd catch the next breeze
He spoke of flying and diving, and how he'd tamed ferocious beasts
But for all his words and phrases, he didn't know west from east
A man of words he was, and words he was alone
His words hold no true value, and as he talks we groan
He claims to have a fortune, but he hasnt spent it yet
For he can't make up his mind, which lavishments to get
He owns houses all over the states, mansions and farms too
But when asked to prove his fortune, he won't show anything to you
His words are just that, spoken sounds, letters and vowels
Spewed forth from somewhere within, his compulsively lying bowels
He was a man of words, but a man of words he is no more
For someone figured out the truth, and dropped him overboard offshore
About these ditsy moments - I’m blonde, I have a few,
but there is one real cringer I think I’ll share with you.
Before I do, please promise me though, that you will not laugh
as the tale unfolds, re-telling my most stupid gaff.
I know I missed the deadline (my blondness yet again!)
but hopefully to tell you all will purge me of this pain.
You see I have a problem with how some words come out,
I hear them perfect in my mind, yet from my mouth they wrongly spout.
One word in particular’s now barred from my vocab,
the embarrassment it caused me almost left me in rehab.
A new bloke at the office joined us for our morning tea,
twelve of us sat in that room. Unfortunate for me!
He told us of his fiction writes and of his hopes and dreams
to one day see them published in some glossy magazines.
He said that he had recently submitted quite a few
and wanting to seem interested, I thought I’d take this cue.
I wanted to impress him, so I spoke with such finesse
“Oh wow” I said “ that’s wonderful, have you had much success?”
Well, in my MIND that’s what I said, but curs-ed by this hex
The words I blurted from my lips were “have you had much SEX?”
**Unfortunately it's very true.
And can you believe I said it again whilst interviewing someone??
So embarrassing, hence that word is now wiped from my vocabulary :)
ITALIAN SONNETS
If you stop to think about poetry writing in the Middle ages or so
The easiest language to find rhymes in was that of Italy
And poets there composed sonnets easily :
Lines all ended in the very common Italian letters - a e or o.
I personally dislike everything Italian - hey, that’s me, absurd -
And OK, its racist, bigoted, unfair, whatever, - but here’s the blurb:
No one can deny that the sonnets of Shakespeare are superb
Simply because they are English sonnets wrestling with words
Other than those ending in a e or o.
Now no doubt some people say that Italian sonnets are better. . . Lo!
Need to ask who these people are? Italians of course, you know.
Even some famous kids’ songs have been infected by Italianissimo :
The famous Old McDonald Had A Farm has its chorus line so
Similar in sound to the Italian : e, a, e, a, o !
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . .
Poem is in Italian Sonnet rhyme scheme abba abba cdcdcd
Acrostic fourteen letters in two words "ITALIAN SONNETS" comprise
the first letters of each line.
Written for Dakarai Cobb's Contest "THE SONNET MAN'S ACROSTIC CHALLENGE"
Many immortal words have been spoken in the heat of the moment,
During romantic settings, wars and other distressful foment!
Damsels have said, "I wouldn't be caught dead with that guy!"
Decades later she celebrates their fiftieth with love yet in her eye!
"We caught them napping!" the last words of the arrogant Custer.
Surprise! Surprise! He took on more than he could muster!
From the Titanic's crows nest, "Slow down! There's ice dead ahead!"
Said Captain Smith, "I've schedules to meet!" sailing on instead!
"They couldn't hit an elephant at this distance!", said the general.
They lifted Sedgwick off the ground, already planning his funeral!
Admiral Farragut roared, "Damn the torpedoes! Full speed ahead!"
Easy for him to say, filling his sailors with terrible fear and dread!
"I only regret I have but one life to lose!" said Nathan Hale,
Before he was hustled off to the scaffold sans benefit of bail!
"Lets cross over the river and sit in the shade of the trees."
Said Stonewall Jackson, instantly shot in error, falling to his knees!
Goliath taunted, "Am I a dog that you come at me with sticks?"
David with his sling and stone showed Mr. Goliath a few tricks!
Wives claim husbands have a knack for having the last word:
"I ain't lost! No need to ask for directions!" immortal words often heard!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
Simon Kerplunkle was his name to many;
A story in and of itself, was he -
To hang from a nail for punishment,
For all of eternity.
Lo, they did not know from whence it had came,
Nor why he never came down;
They plotted and schemed about all sorts of dreams,
But no answer was speedily found.
He hung there for years just telling his tales,
About all the ghosts he had knew.
A pint of ale, he’d say, got him down,
But that lie was never a truth.
Some say he was hung there for taunting the wife,
Of a man that was terribly jealous.
And others say he was the brunt of some crime,
from a fiercely religious old zealot.
But Simon would spin a few tales of his own,
And the whole town would drop by to listen -
To Mr. Kerplunkle, that wily old man,
Who hung there upon his nail, smitten.
One night as they waited, so baited to hear
Another of Simon’s great fables,
He breathed his last breath and the nail rusted out
And he lay there atop of a table.
That dawn the whole town had gone to his grave
To read the last story he’d tell -
The words on a gravestone were deeply engraved
And what a strange sight they beheld.
It said,
“Here Lies Simon Kerpunkle
Who hung on a nail -
In his final words he did recite:
‘It was either I hang here for all of my days
Or go home and face the mad wife‘.”
as the afternoon rushed by I was lodding a U-haul for it was time to say good-bye,
hot seeing how late July brought monson rains with no where to hind,
two hours into it a short temperd person such as I found my anger and wouldn't let go by,
moving a dresser after many boxes and things I smashed my thumb and let out an scream,
words I will not repeat I understand on this site bad words never find a seat,
so after a rang out those useless words I looked for the nearest thing then it acured,
I lashed out in a fit of rage I kicked the nearest box to me I know it sounds strange,
but I needed to let it out and a scream wouldn't do guys you know what I'm talking about,
well to my dismay the box was filled with iron skillets you know the kind heavy black skillets,
after this the pain in my thumb subsided and the pain now in my foot I could not hide it,
so off to the emergency room I went I didn't ly told them what happen and to them I was heaven sent,
they all laughed as I was being checked in I didn't get mad I just keeped a grin,
the ex-ray nurse and doctor did the same I know it was dumb and I was to blame,
so just wanted to send out a warning, if you get mad and want to lash out hear what I'm saying,
kick nothing because they won't stop laughing.
I’ve put down the paper and pen,
‘Cause I just couldn’t say when;
The poems I’ve been writing,
Are screaming and fighting,
“Re-write us, before we offend!”
But the dishes and floors are unwashed;
My cooking has really been quashed;
My cupboards are bare,
And I just don’t dare,
On the head, I’m gonna get coshed.
So tell me, what do you do,
When the words keep flowing in you;
Do you cease your real life,
And suffer the strife;
To the muse do you always stay true?
Now you see of what I am speaking;
My errands and chores are still keeping.
But if I had the choice,
I’d capture this voice,
For the words are all here, paper seeking.
I wish I could write a poem that rhymes
I've tried to do it a million times, or more
The words never seem for me to come
At least not as easy as it does for some, people
I just don't know what I should do
To get my words to rhyme like you, can
Well one of these days maybe I will
I'll finally write something I feel, inside
Why can't I find these words I seek?
Sometimes I hunt for more than a week, or two
I won't give up just wait and see
One day these words will come to me, maybe
Oh Wizard of Words lend me your ear
Help me to rhyme these words right here, sometimes
I think I can, well maybe I might
Think of a rhyme for me to write, today
No one will ever know my name
If my words don't rhyme or sound the same, way
I've finally come to my conclusion
Did you notice this poem's an optical illusion, of sorts?
Read it again and stop at the commas