Best Guffaw Poems
Things that seemed poetic were
always sad, though I yearned for
glitter and my dad's guffaw, which
never came. Familiar things were
always drear -- repeated motions
in the same old game. There were
only distant glimpses of budding
Spring, fleeting views of daffodils.
The strongest poems dealt me
death and dying. Still, I always
hoped, never went under to gray
despair, forever dreaming of a
garden of love we could share --
but those forbidden delights
faded quickly away. The only reality
I understand is the ever-looming
and final one. Nothing's changed.
The strongest poems deal
death and dying.
(Inveniam viam)
Far beyond these eerie things, where limits have no scales
Fish are replacing gills, with turbine aerated tails
Sea level’s losing all meaning, for the humpback whales
Ships piggyback them, harpoons syphon wind from their sails
Today I woke up early, lately I’ve let dreams flow
Into an abstract yonder, where visions often go
A wave came over me, up from my downy pillow
When tidal forces passed away, many moons ago
As the ocean waved goodbye, I called for an encore
Behaving like a poultice, the beach drew back old gore
You could’ve bowled me over, sent ripples to my core
Never again I’d sleep soundly, near this bloody shore
After a fretful lie-on, facing truths with each turn
My sundial running on empty, stars can’t always churn
Moribund in dimness, til an old spark can return
Reigniting glory days, (let supernovae burn)
Overhead the vacuum grows, just to make more space
Stretching my dysmorphia, to align with gods face
No one knows for certain, who enhanced his human race
Gave an artful hand, outsmarting evolution’s pace
As life spirals forward, in a world out of control
Entropy dismantles, stripping back our maker’s role
The poet in me keeps goofing, digging deeper holes
He’s a junkie rhymester, overdosing on this soul
So hail all billionaires, who never walk down my street
Flying above fake cripples, with power in their feet
Prodigies of bad and worse, scheming to make ends meet
Leaves an aftertaste of smugness, one that will repeat
As for those big questions, some take a straightforward twist
Two things I thought might go away, stubbornly exist
Not death or taxes, I’m already over that list
Each day I arise, how come lies and bullsh!t persist?
First there was oblivion, til I woke up and saw
Now fully awake, dead ahead looms a fatal flaw
But so long as I can dream, and able to guffaw
It only hurts when I laugh, Don’t you think? vents my jaw
By David Kavanagh
Hms
My favorite cousin named Marge
is almost as big as a barge.
So one would assume,
not knowing the groom,
the guy would most likely be large.
But he was a small man named Tim
“As thin as a broom” describes him.
While Marge would guffaw,
Tim would watch her with awe
and just smile for he was so prim!
When the preacher addressed him and said,
“You may now kiss the bride,” Tim turned red,
for their lips could not meet.
With high heels on her feet,
Marge stood towering over his head.
She leaned down while Tim stood on his toes,
but for being in such a strange pose,
Marge then came toppling down
crushing Tim neath her gown
while the whole church erupted in “Ohhhhh’s.”
All was well, and thereafter, we ate;
then we planned next to dance until late.
But none could foresee
the small tragedy
that had us all leaving by eight!
Marge had tossed off her heels for a glide
on the dance floor, but when they both tried
to dance, Tim got snagged
by that dang gown and dragged
as his bride was beginning to slide. . .
Now shoeless, poor Marge could not stop.
Toward a table with candles on top,
they slid, and the groom
then set fire to the room
by landing with a belly flop.
Poor Tim by the candles got lit,
and we were all having a fit,
for the fire got spread fast
till the Best Man at last
got us all wet extinguishing it!
Inspired by the title of the movie: My Big Fat Greek Wedding
& : Joann Grisetti's "My Cousin's Wedding" Poetry contest
When you are in trouble
and start seeing double
you might as well have a good laugh
Cause sorrow and crying
and excessive sighing
can shorten your lifespan by half
If buried in debt
why brood in regret
when smiles are just what you need?
Don't worry or panic
no need to be manic
far better to chuckle, indeed
Has your tire lost air?
Don't give it a care
just change it and be on your way
If right after that
another goes flat
then dial up your triple A
If someone does hurt you
and then they desert you
just let it roll right off your back
Let out a guffaw
for there is no law
requiring you to attack
If hauled into court
then be a good sport
and burst forth in squeals of delight
They may think you mad
but you will be glad
as they drag you off into the night
No more bills to pay
nor dragons to slay
committed for standing the gaff
In your padded cell
your own private hell
you might as well have a good laugh
Normally, I'm not one to be alarmed by things that go bump in the night,
But the other night I saw something that gave me a most dreadful fright!
I awoke to make a visit to you know where (as us old guys are prone to do)!
As I lay there half asleep, a very eerie figure came into my field of view!
Still in a sleepy stupor, at the foot of the bed, I saw a spectre peering at me!
I pulled the covers over my ears yet kept one eye open so that I could see,
Who this interloper could be that so rudely interrupted my peaceful rest,
And could surely be the cause of a potentially serious cardiac arrest!
A ray of moonlight shone upon the scary apparition causing me more alarm!
My spouse was serenely snoring and I hesitated to poke her with my arm.
I moved and it advanced toward me - it was a most fearsome sight!
I saw that it had several appendages, all glowing ghostly white!
Things were looking rather grim for me on that dark and stormy night!
To make matters worse, the clock struck twelve reminding me of my plight!
The shaking of the bed and chattering of my teeth aroused my wife to wake!
I cautiously pointed to the spook that caused her to do a double take!
Now the bed was really shaking due to her uncontrollable guffaw!
She pointed out a startling fact that caused me to drop my jaw!
"You addlepated nincompoop! From you I don't want to hear another peep!
That spook you saw was your foot so shut up and let me get back to sleep!"
Entry for Brendon J. Simons' "Hallucination" Contest
The sweet Megan Markle had that bright sparkle
for she landed herself a true prince
Our dear handsome Harry, was never contrary
But the Queen he had to convince
All Britain is fawning, this is a new dawning
for actress turned royal brings fame
the coffers are filling, and tourism's thrilling
The Duke and the Duchess are game
The wedding's now history, no longer a myst'ry
the world watched each detail in awe
this couple got hitched as each lose thread got stitched
There was not a single guffaw
Traditions respected, through some circumvented
the bride added much to the day
A curtsy forgotten, does not make her rotten
Just strong willed as some critics say
Her dress was straight lined, demure and refined
the make-up was simple and sweet
Prince George and Charlotte, they made us all gloat
Their goodness must warrant a treat
I'm happy for Harry, he is a dear chappy
his smiles tell the world all is well
the pre-wedding drama, that long pause or comma
forgotten, for now all is swell
So the 19th of May was quite a big day
It showed fairy tales still come true
Now young ladies know, to put beauty on show
The next story could be about you.
Eileen Manassian
SO or Silent One who is known to all
Our British connection, a mysterious butterball
Calls me Benny Hill
A connection if you will
Along with Python, made us giggle and guffaw
Stood on the roof of the Empire State
Two American men and their new English mate
It’s true that a bourbon or two had been had
Perhaps that’s what made them all act a bit mad
The Englishman, clearly, had drunk a bit more
His friends shared a secret which made them guffaw
One asked their English friend if he had heard
That bourbon allows you to fly like a bird
The Englishman grinned. ‘I’m not falling for that,
If I tried to fly I would fall and go splat!’
So one of his mates jumped right down to the street
Bounced all the way up to land back on his feet
‘My, that’s amazing,’ the Englishman said,
‘If I had done that I would be a bit dead.’
‘Nonsense,’ the other American said,
‘If you won’t do it, I’ll do it instead.’
True to his word he jumped down to the street
Bounced all the way up to land back on his feet
The Englishmen gasped. ‘I can’t believe that
You jumped off the roof but you didn’t go splat.’
So both the Americans said he was scared
And after a while the Englishman dared
‘Okay,’ he said, ‘I think I could do that.’
He jumped and smashed into the ground with a splat
They gazed at the gory result of their plan
And Spiderman said, ‘That was mean, Superman.’
***
Secretly watching from behind a tree
He thought to himself ‘They could never kill me.’
For they hadn’t known his identity.
Or that the ‘splat’ was ground beef for his tea
He hadn’t harboured malicious intent
When he had adopted an English accent
But in their ‘day wear’ he still knew what it meant
When young Peter Parker said, ‘Meet Mr Kent.’
It was nice to see that the graveyard was stuffed
He grinned to see Spidey and Superman cuffed
Soon he'd step out for his mourners to see
For now, Batman giggled hysterically
6 September 2022
For contest: superheroes or Supervillains
Sponsor: Robert James Liguory
Written: November 24, 2024 for contest Sponsored by: Kai Michael Neumann
__________________________
In a calyx of ambivalent dreams,
where shadows swirl as silken strands,
I slip through the surface,
a sailboat in a tide of thoughts,
where colors speak in whispers,
and sounds weave a tapestry
of guffaw and sighs.
I am an astronaut,
zipping into a cosmos of canorous clangor
past comets with names such as chimera
and planets blooming with a corpulent deluge
simmering under layers of desultory dust,
each a sun waiting
to ignite an encomium spark.
Footfalls on the ledge of splendor,
swirling in circles,
a kaleidoscope of moments —
jumping from the quicksilver
of a fleeting glance,
to the deep sinkhole of silence,
where time slows to the pulse of heart.
Here, on this canvas of perception,
the boundary of self dissolves,
melting into the esoteric ocean
and excruciatingly eviscerated thoughts
are squid jauntily joined by caring currents,
amber-colored fires dancing on the horizon,
unraveling secrets hidden in their stings.
I chase shadows,
those swift-painting phantoms,
a ghostly gap in gnarled grooves of life,
seeking sincerity in a swirl of sights —
the stillness of awareness,
longing wrapped in vibrant coils,
darkness stitched with fragile threads of light.
In stillness, I stroll.
feeling every pulse evolve into a quilt of colors.
tracing trails tracked by supple notions.
as the clock spins dizzy tales —
my pen touches the sky,
gathering glimpses in gradients of glides.
a jaunt laced with lingering layers.
charting caverns of concealed aspirations.
where wisdom blooms in wild gardens,
Inviting all intrepid inclined to intrude
the twinkling, tantalizing tones
of existence, endlessly entwining
every exhale an echoing essence.
of something that yearns.
to be liberated and let loose.
These days I feel as if I'm being consumed
by worry and uncertainty.
Unsure of exactly what to do or whom to see
regarding issues of my health
has robbed me of the calm that once cradled me
in the nights of my soundest sleep.
Once I was the epitome of calmness and stability.
Though a bit anxious, I chalked this up to a little nervous "energy."
My feelings rang with gratitude and gladness
although the voice of all my emotions was almost always small.
Laughing loudly, on the other hand, was the sound of my greatest pleasure!
Even today, my emotions are not often loud.
Despite current feelings of betrayal and disappointment,
and also of great anger,
I rarely bellow.
Feeling often overwhelmed, I muddle through.
I've plenty of nervous energy still.
And almost every day I find time for comedy.
I guffaw loudly at my favorite sitcoms,
remembering that laughter, after all, is the best medicine.
Jan. 4, 2019 for Caren Krutsinger's "My Loudest Feelings" Poetry Contest
Why, in a haunted house, do we scream?
We know that the monsters are mechanized.
We know that the bumps are all oversized.
We know things are not what they seem.
Why, in that haunted house, do we chuckle?
We’re bombarded with bright lights, loud screams,
thumps and bumps; we imagine extremes
but know it’s all fake as we grip the belt buckle.
Why, in our own home, when we hear creaking,
don’t we cry or guffaw, but instead
we tiptoe, gasp and believe the undead
and the zombified trespasser come softly sneaking.
Why, when the horror and terror aren’t real,
Do we shriek with delight, while thrilled to the bone?
Why, when we know that we’re really alone,
Are panic and dread the emotions we feel?
'Twas an ominous moment when rode into town
To its marshal defy and outdraw and gun down
A notorious, murderous varmint named Slade
Who had widows and orphans throughout the west made.
The next morning, as destined, they met on the street
To for title of gunfighter finest compete.
Marshal Matson, with duty to outlaw arrest,
Versus Slade, risking life in the ultimate test.
At a distance the townspeople gathered to see
The historical challenge that thrilling should be.
Two tall figures unconquered and stoic and brave,
With the loser interred in a premature grave.
Foes whose shadowy faces beneath Stetson brim
Wore expressions determined, ferocious, and grim.
Hands were poised over holsters attached to their thighs,
Jaws were set, hands were steady, and angry were eyes.
Doomed to sprawl in the dust would be gunslinger slain,
While the victor would toasted and honored remain.
Marking one more rash braggart whose lifetime is done
Would be notch newly carved in his pearl-handled gun.
No one knows who drew first for the blur was too fast.
Barrels blazed in a loud, simultaneous blast.
Then a second and third and again and again
Until chambers were empty, but still stood two men.
Errant bullets great havoc had caused all around.
Precious water was gushing from tower through holes.
An unfortunate, low-flying buzzard was downed,
Signs were dangling from hinges, and riddled were poles.
From the crowd that was watching arose a great roar,
But of laughter, not cheering as always before.
The combatants, embarrassed and hanging their heads,
Scurried back to concealment in brothel room beds.
All night long drunken witnesses filled the saloons
To guffaw, raise a rumpus, and target spittoons.
While on opposite ends of the town slinked away
Into darkness two shadows disgraced on that day.
So astoundingly awful and wayward was aim
That the pair's reputations were never the same.
Butts of jokes the names Matson and Slade have since been.
Still remembered for showdown that neither could win.
You’ve got to have a certain knack
when opening your Silly Sack;
the beasts within will soon attack
with no hold barred, no turning back.
Now these are not the monstrous sort,
it’s just that they do not comport.
Of mischief, they are never short,
treat mayhem like it is a sport.
Prepare for giggles, snorts, and laughs,
guffaw at awkward giraffe gaffes,
where pigs with dirt soap take mud baths,
where self-signed cars give autographs.
Juno the dog is in there too;
you know what she likes best to do.
She’ll give horse rides, and when we’re through,
we’ll see our parents at the zoo!
So loose the drawstring, open wide;
heck, you might even jump inside!
A Silly Sack’s the place to hide -
with imagination as your guide!
----------
I wrote this as quatrains first, then remembered the contest and wrote it as limericks - frankly, I like the quatrains better...
While we sit with our coffee and poetry,
The Fear Frenzy Makers burn the midnight oil.
Digging up lies, just anything man!
To stuff up your brain like cement in a can.
They've succeeded in making you believe the
world is ending and...
That only chemicals sold by a fracture led
pharmacy nation
Will lead you to be a health sensation.
The Frenzys have determined God to be
extinct!
You can replace him with shrooms, ganja
hash or a drink?
Try Don Lemon at CNN, inhumane and so
vicious, the latest god on the street.
Worse, get your news from social media,
Driving the country nuts!
With our Congress making a new law
(I had to guffaw)!
That we don't need lawyers with integrity,
Just let mob rule take over this country.
(Oh,yes...and everything free)
The hatred of police is growing.
The rise of criminals is so revered and
spreading.
The body count of innocents is growing,
The murder of Jews is spreading.
Frenzy Feeders are nothing more Hitler
youth.
Spying and lying on Americans who
have done no harm.
Envy driven monsters...
It doesn't matter whose life they will
ruin.
We face a very formidable foe!
Big Brother is here- following you with
your cell phones everywhere.
Cameras on streets in dressing rooms.
As poets we can alert others to the
manure being peddled by fear smugglers.
Not all of us, but a few, may remind people
hard.
That God is in charge of when the world
ends not them.
Hate to tell these scientific brains, that
God created the world not them.
We cry over the extinct animals!!
But have not a thought nor remorse
to murder a baby.
66.000 babies were aborted alone last
year!
If we support murder, we have plenty
to fear.
5/8/2019
11:39 pm PST
that Friday feeling calls near noon
with thoughts of lager capped by foam
and dreams this work-day will end soon
which gives your mind a mood to roam
to favored joints, where with the guys
you joke, guffaw, and swig cold beer
until a soft glance meets your eyes,
inviting you to swagger near
and, with bravado, take a chance
to learn her name is Betty-Lou
and yes, indeed, she'd love to dance;
this precious, lovely dream-come-true
melts in your arms when music slows,
allowing hands to learn each curve
while floral scent enthralls your nose,
imbuing you with manly nerve
to hand-in-hand flee into night
where moon peeps down on newfound bliss
and giddy hearts take sudden flight
when lips approach to share a kiss
but garlic-breathing boss looms near,
you shake awake, return alive,
are bull's-eye of his nasal sneer:
"the weekend, Clown, don't start till five!"