Best Good Sense Poems
Good Sense Of Humour Blunts The Sharp Blades Of Reality Poetry
Contest //Sponsored by: Natasha L. Scragg
Contest Judged: 8/30/2025 4:27:00 AM
( 2nd Place )
Written: August 5, 2025
When life threw me a curveball,
I stumbled—then chuckled mid-fall.
Lumped knees, not pride, I wore like bent,
because sneering is something I've seen.
In chemo rooms and vestibules,
I frenzied dry jokes on aseptic walls.
Doctors simpered, nurses would beam—
a punch-line where the fear had been.
When agony thumped hard and sleep grew thin,
I let the silly light writhe in.
A meme, a whirl , a silly song—
made aching days feel less so long.
No, humour incurable or patch,
But it's the ally, not made to part.
It doesn't silence, hurt or truth,
but let me smirk with my aching tooth.
So here's my laugh, though life gushes beneath,
it's how I rise, not how I lament!
Humor plays a special role
In this world of woe.
Laughter's serum for the soul,
As all fun lovers know.
Robust guffaws brighten days.
Insides shake, and hot tears flow.
Think of all the many ways
You could cheer those feeling low.
Oh, yes, that time has surely come-
the winter of our years;
try keeping busy, having fun
and hang out with our peers.
On senior bus trips, off we go,
the highlight of our day.
But walkers and those footed canes
sure do get in our way.
Like ducklings waddle cross the floor
to meet the guide in pairs,
we follow him or her around
and pray there are no stairs.
And soon it's time to see the show
and thought we had our place
to sit next to our special friends,
then find there is no space!
'Cause we got lost along the way-
when leaving the restroom!
Now in the dark, get seated near-
some gal with strong perfume!
And soon the time has surely come-
the curtains rise with cheers.
So tired of saying 'who' and 'what'-
stuff hearing aids in ears.
Oh yes, those days have surely come-
the winter of our time;
just keep on going, with a smile-
pretend it's summertime!
Harsh is life’s reality.
Each trial we endure is a sword of steel
that pierces the jagged edges
of our imperfect souls.
We cannot escape
the occasional slashes from life’s rapier
that fall upon us when times are hard,
but neither can we get through life
living with sorrow and angst
without a relief valve.
Even in the midst of great tragedies,
humans have found ways
to cope with stress.
I cannot equate my own tragedies
with those endured by prisoners
of concentration camps or anybody else
enslaved by abuse or torture.
For the most of us, however,
we have the spontaneity of humor
to lessen our heavy loads:
the absurdities coming sometimes
from the mouths of children or the foolish;
the funny little blunders we see
that cause us to laugh out loud;
a beautiful day of sunshine changing
to one of rain, causing us to chuckle
for trusting the weather channel.
We can do nothing more than laugh
at things like these.
To dwell on small accidents
or on silly mishaps does nobody any good.
Don’t let life’s rapier
cut you down with despair.
Stress less; laugh more, and especially
learn to laugh at yourself.
Chortle, chuckle, cackle or guffaw,
and by no means, do not always simply smile.
Find a stand-up comedy and let yourself
fall on the sword of belly laughs,
for a good sense of humor blunts
the sharp blades of reality.
The funeral was well attended
Nobody came
It was sad in a way
Clashed with the dog passing away
There was a friend with a leg
When I say a leg
I actually mean two
Though he had the flu
The Priest nearly made it
But he passed too
The butcher discussed it with the baker
In the newsagents where the notice was placed
Was it his wife who put it in
Well yes, to begin
Then a black guy called Fred
Placed another, hopefully dead
Followed by Titch
Who looked quite rich
But was really his bit..
Not to detract from Simon
Frowned the butcher, calling him pieman
Though, that was simplistic
The florist cried foul
She had the contract
But just for a while
It was left to the undertaker
Wade
Who had to subcontract
When thieves stole his spade
Joe from the pub
With the maths degree
Discussed the angles
Buried under a tree
Bernadette, at the bookmakers
Had to agree
Rushing off to mass
Father Joe listened with glee
It was a trying day in the village of Dull
The pub was in mourning
There was a definite lull
But one thing was agreed
As they slowly got pissed
Rover the dog
Would surely be missed.
A well-developed sense of humor is the pole that adds balance
to your steps, as you walk the tightrope of life.
Quote By William Arthur Ward
We were young and filled with responsibilities
new to town, married and in our early twenties
My husband needed surgery and I didn't drive
with two small kids I had to find a way to jive
When I got to the hospital I bought him a souvenir
one big fury ape with a grin that said, "I'm here! "
He wasn't in bed so I put the ape in bed instead
a nurse came in, she almost fell over with dread
He came out of the washroom and found it there
when it comes to humor we make quite a pair
He soon recovered and the ape came live with us
I took driving lessons, now I don't take the bus
This is a true story of how I used humor to cope
years have come and gone still I climb the slope
Using humor in a crisis can surely help my dear,
it can ease the soul and help you when you fear.
I try to crack a joke to tame a tense situation,
As a way of blowing up the slow building steam.
With a joke, I see all resentments flitting away,
And watch, how a happy mood begins to stream.
Stiff formalities often leave me choking
In a very serious company, I feel at a loss
I'm so much at ease in a hilarious company,
Even a harsh situation turns cheery in humour’s gloss
By being funny, you can earn much camaraderie
It makes you coveted, reducing all possible rift
Humour saves you from the drabness of everyday life
The ability to laugh at oneself is indeed a rare gift.
‘Laughter, the best medicine’ is a time old saying
With so much power to heal, let us laugh to chill
See, how it lightens anger’s heavy load
Making us healthier, reducing our hospital bill.
All prefer a clownish Falstaff to a rigid crowned king
Who with humour's punch blunts the sharp blades of reality
He escorts us cheerfully to a world of laughter
And leads us to the merry realms of geniality.
Chortle and chuckle to remove all your aches
Grin and giggle until your belly breaks
Laugh out loud with mouth wide till it makes you cry,
Roll on the floor and laugh with spirits raised high.
Good sense of humour :
I always admire.
Good Humour is perfect mind - freshener
with exact effect on Good Listener.
Displaying good humour at right moment
or an intellectual comment,
never to lament ,
but turns gracious,
glorious , gorgeous
to entertain ,
simultaneous has great effect
to soothe pain.
Blades of reality have sharp notions
to cut impulsive emotions.
Precise humour to deliver
acts as right pain - remover..
Good humour to express
any time, more or less
in compassionate style
will manifest exact profile
of the human being
to help in real healing.
Good Humour is perfect mind -freshener
with exact effect on Good Listener.
H=Humour and smiles make for a happy day for everyone.
U=Under hurt or pain, add humour so it will melt fast away.
M=Many need a joke or two so their face can wear a smile.
O=Our life is happier with lots of humour in it.
U=Unless we have humour in the world, we will be sad.
R=Read this again to see what to do for a happy life.
Not everything we see is true
so what then are we meant to do
when seeing things that are unreal
should we rely on how we feel.
But things exist we cannot see,
are feelings then reality
.
I hear some say when things are sound
it means they feel OK all ‘round,
so sound and hearing, feelings too,
can all be be seen to give to you
a taste of what is there to see
to touch on your reality!
But if you feel you smell a rat
it’s just ‘good sense’ to buy a cat!
Ivor G Davies
Razor sharp reality creates the deepest wounds.
Heartbreak bleeds through the tears of the soul
Blanking the mind, making life a blur
While we seek to find a way to make ourselves whole.
There's no such thing as convenient times.
Reality will strike without warning signs.
So what can we do to blunt these blades?
We must find a way that is not in vain.
The wields of reality we cannot evade.
So let's find a way to dance through our pain.
Laughter is said to be balm for the soul.
A good sense of humour can shrink our hole.
A former victim of bullying
Can laugh, looking back,
At the foolishness betrayed
By those who chose to attack.
Losing loved ones, the sharpest cut of all,
Can inspire you to smile at things quite small.
Was there something in their manner
That caused you to giggle?
Was there a particular phrase they used
Or their shuffle or wiggle?
Sometimes comedians can turn a phrase
That leaves you drifting in humours haze.
Humour can be a distraction.
It can help you process, help you hope.
Humour lights up the pathway
So in dark places we can cope.
A surprising paradox we come to find
Humour blunts blades while sharpening minds!
Cherish the value of humour.
For it can be your special key.
A good sense of humour blunts
The sharp blades of reality.
A good sense of humour blunts the sharp blades
Lifting a heavy heart, making our burden fades
Permanent or temporary, it’s facial muscles' relaxant aid
Bringing joy and laughter, keep it as a precious jade!
Humour is anti-stress, a powerful medicine in life
A priceless cream to cure our cuts from trial’s knife
When some difficult circumstances come rife
Exchange humour with someone to cope, forget any strife.
Humour only interferes… alleviating boredoms
Strengthens neurons, gives us brilliance and wisdom
As facial muscles stretch from smiles, we can overcome
Some problems pass while sense of humour is our chum.
When our sense of humor weakens or runs-out
Ask AI’s help, watch reels, takes things light, don’t pout
Our own facial expressions can even make some humors sprout
To keep the world laughing, always be ready like a scout!
Written: July 28, 2025, for contest Sponsored by: Natasha L Scragg
Quote: "Be full of sorrow, that you may become a hill of joy; weep, that you may break into laughter. The core of the seen and unseen universe smiles, but remember, smiles come best from those who weep." By Rumi
*****************
When dyspnea clutches
akin to a windless room,
and sorrow presses heavily—
not merely on the chest,
but deep within the scaffold of thoughts—
humor, once a fleeting spark,
ignites as flint striking steel,
a miraculous glimmer
emerges amidst the thick fog.
In this existence
pain is not scarce,
but laughter—
a lodestone,
crafted from flapdoodle tales.
and Falstaffian bravado—
serves as a balm,
not just a distraction,
but nepenthe:
a sacred numbness
with edges that still remember.
My life—a palimpsest,
inscribed in soot and raw chances—
finds footnotes in folly,
each chuckle is a testament to courage.
I, the steward of fractured hours,
have traded tears for joy,
and emerged from despair,
not through denial,
but through the iconoclast’s grin—
a fissure in the facade
that adumbrates hope.
Time becomes horology without hands.
When humor wanes—
a sockdolager silence
where even the apiary hums
with mockery
I feel a sense of nostalgia.
I have been that yokel
stone-faced in the storm,
my mirth marooned,
my jokes are stifled—lost in illeism,
I refer to myself.
as if I were no longer mine.
But even scantling joy
can host a grand feast:
a pun, a parody,
a nefarious, mischievous chuckle
at the universe’s absurdity.
Among my peers,
We wear humor akin to armor—
not to conceal,
but to celebrate.
To declare,
we acknowledge the weight,
and we bear it,
with smiles
so sharp, they slice clean,
through gargantuan calamity.
"Humor can alter any situation and help us cope at the very instant we are laughing." –Allen Klein
A GOOD SENSE OF HUMOR BLUNTS THE SHARP BLADES OF REALITY
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I lay on the table, a modern-day sacrificial lamb,
pillow cradling my head, a fortress of foam and fabric.
Then came Velcro, the sticky embrace of a high-tech straitjacket,
my legs and wrists secured like a reluctant burrito.
Into the tube I slid, a terrified astronaut on a mission,
the ceiling loomed, a metallic sky, almost kissing my nose.
I clenched my hands until they turned white pondering
“Is this what it feels like to be a sardine in a can?
The sounds began, a symphony of whirs and clicks,
the MRI’s own version of a pop concert—
I imagined it had a fan club, “Team Tube,” with its own T-shirts
while I lay there, a star in a very narrow universe.
I tried counting, “one, two, three.” But sigh…
my thoughts were spinning like socks in a dryer.
I imagined bystanders strolling by, pointing and staring.
“Behold! Look at the sweating patient in the tube!”
The minutes crawled, like a snail on a treadmill.
“Perhaps I should have brought snacks
or at least a good book.” But alas, I was tethered,
a captive audience to my own claustrophobic anxiety.
So I lay still, the sounds swirling,
I chuckled softly, because if this is life,
then I might as well enjoy the ride,
even if it’s a little cramped and a little weird.
After all, who needs a spa day when you can have an MRI,
a slow, relaxing rollercoaster ride into the belly of the beast.
Oh, the absurdity of my situation, and the irony of it all—
Here I was, a human pretzel, searching for sanity inside the MRI.
Then, suddenly, the whirring ceased, the ceiling pulled back.
I emerged, a superhero in a hospital gown,
Velcro stripped away, ready to conquer the world
with a newfound appreciation for open spaces.
Poem written for “A Good Sense Of Humor Blunts The Sharp Blades Of Reality Poetry Contest,” Natasha L. Scragg, sponsor, July 29, 2025.
The reality of life can
leave a bad taste,
especially when dealing
with those who are two-faced.
The road to hell may be
paved with good intentions,
but hell on earth is dealing
with constant contraventions.
Everywhere we look
there is always tension,
coming from those
we'd rather not mention.
But through it all,
there's one thing I've never misplaced,
something that simply
can't be replaced,
a joyful truth that
I've always embraced:
a day without laughter
is just a day gone to waste.