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Best Humor Poems | Poetry

Below are the all-time best Humor poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of humor poems written by PoetrySoup members

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The Best Humor Poems

Details | Humor Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Real Men Wear Pink

I stand about five feet eight
I'll admit, I'm a tad overweight
Drive an old pick up truck
Not one to pass the buck
At the moment have a dog for a mate

Dropped out of school at eighteen
Got married in a pair of old jeans
A father of four
When I sleep, I snore
When angered been known to get mean

I grew up huntin' and fishin'
Done more than my share of wishin'
Been in a few fights
Know I'm not always right
For my age, still in decent condition

In my life, I've worked many hard jobs
Its been said, "I'm rough as a cob"
I've smoked and drank
Spent time in the tank
And never, not once, did I sob

I also love being outside
My old skin is weathered and dried
Still play in the dirt
Cuss when I'm hurt
But I do have a softer side

Poetry, I read and I write
These days, prefer music to be lite
Love trees and flowers
Warm spring showers
And swinging on stars at night

I like women who like to hold hands
Take moonlight walks on the sand
Curves excite me
Whispers invite me
A good listener who tries to understand

I wash dishes, do laundry and floors
Clean bathrooms, wash walls and doors
I'm a pretty good cook
Without a cookbook
To be honest, don't mind household chores

Just so you're perfectly clear
I've traveled from there to here
Simple but complex
Know love's more than sex
And on occasion I cry manly tears

Yes sometimes I even wear pink
Wear cologne to make sure I don't stink
Write poems about birds
Use everyday words
And I don't give a damn what you think!



    by Daniel Turner


Copyright © Daniel Turner | Year Posted 2017


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I Knitted You A Scarf

Listen to poem:
                           
   
                            
                             t         e         t        e   
                               a        l          a         l    
                              s        s          s         s    
                             s          s        s          s   
                             l         a           l           a        
                            e         t          e           t  
                            IKNITTEDAWINTERSCARF
                            ALARGEINTRICATECASH
                            MEREFANCYPANTSGENT
                            LEMANJIMKINDOFNECKC
                            LOTHESPEOPLEWEARARO
                            UNDTHEIRPREVIOUSLYNA
                            KEDSKINBETWEENTHEIRH
                            EADSANDTHEIRSHOULDER
                            SWHICHREALLYCOUNTSIF
                            YOULIVEINABELOWZERO
                             WEATHERCITYWITHAFREE
                               ZINGCOLDATMOSPHERE
                              THATWILLMAKEYOURTE
                              ETHCLATTERANDCLINKMA
                              KINGSOUNDSTHATWOUL
                              DRATTLEEVENTHOSEWIT
                              HTHESTEADIESTOFNERVES
                              THETYPEWITHTHOSESTRO
                               NGJAWSTHATPOTRUDEBE
                               YONDTHEIRFACESANDDRI
                                VEFATBOYHARLEYMOTOR
                               CYCLESANDCOULDCRUSH
                                YOUWITHJUSTALOOKFROM
                                 WHERETHEIREYESSITONTH
                                EIRVISAGEWHICHISASTRANG
                                 EWORDTOUSEHERESINCEITH
                                 INK"VISAGE"ISONEOFTHOSE
                                 SOPHISTICATEDWORDSOFFR
                                ENCHORIGINWHICHISNOTARA
                                WCOUNTRYTYPESLANGKINDO
                                 FWORDWHICHWOULDBEMUCH
                                  MOREAPPROPRIATEFORBIKEM
                                  ANANAMEICOINEDMYSELFFOR
                                  MARKWHOTURNSOUTTOBEAN
                                 UNEXPECTEDLYKINDGUYWHO
                                  TURNSOUTSUITSTHEWORDVI
                                  SAGEINFACTONEWITHAGREATS
                                   MILETHATOCCASIONALLYPOPS
                                    UPONMARKSFACEIACTUALLYE
                                    VENGAVEHIMTHESCARFASAGIFT
                                     (PAUSE)(2)(3)(4)ASWELLASMYW
                                     ALLETMYCARKEYSMYCREDITCA
                                      RDSMYPINNUMBERSMYWATCH
                                      t              e           t              e     
                                       a            l              a            l    
                                      s            s              s            s        
                                     s            s                s              s
                                        l            a             l              a  
                                          e           t             e           t



THE CASHMERE WOOL I USED TO KNIT A SCARF I knitted a winter scarf, a large intricate Cashmere fancy pants, Gentleman Jim kind of neck clothes people wear around their previously naked skin between their heads and their shoulders which really counts if you live in a below zero weather city with a freezing cold atmosphere that will make your teeth clatter and clink making sounds that would rattle even those with the steadiest of nerves. The type with those strong jaws that protrude beyond their faces and drive FatBoy Harley motorcycles and could crush you with just a look from where their eyes sit on their visage which is a strange word to use here since I think "visage" is one of those sophisticated words of French origin which is not a raw country type slang kind of word which would be much more appropriate for bike man a name I coined myself for Mark who turns out to be an unexpectedly kind guy the type it turns out suits the word visage in fact one with a great smile that occasionally pops up on Marks face I actually even gave him the scarf as a gift (pause) (2)(3)(4), as well as my wallet my car keys, my credit cards, my pin numbers, my watch...


Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2016


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STUNNING SPRING

Trees wear a gown of bright emerald green Where birds are nesting in branches up high Parents shield fledglings so they can’t be seen Until they can spread their new wings and fly Daffodils dance in the warm zephyr breeze Bees buzz seeking out these pretty flowers Yellow pollen doesn't make the bees sneeze! They will pollinate blooms for many hours Young lambs gamboling around in the fields Birds fly high in the sky of azure blue I love the spring season where nature yields Our earth’s a stunning place for me and you Spring brings rejuvenation to our land The vibrant countryside looks very grand 14 lines 10 syllables per line Checked with how many syllables* Doesn't counted as 2 syllables Had previously been awarded 1st place in another contest and also POTD subsequently given n/a in Best sonnet contest Sponsored by Laura loo judged on 3/3/2018 9:36:00 AM 08~19~16


Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2016


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If You Weren't Such a Nut Meg

She had so many chances
     Yet she kept muffin it up
Butter intentions were good
     Just not much coffee in her cup

Couldn’t make a good decision
     Too much waffling back and forth
Always peppered with doubt
     Should she head south, no maybe north

Still, she was fun at a party
     I would say, hummus a tune
She’d say, Icing because I’m happy
     As the words began to croon

Maybe that’s what’s most important
     Omelet let her off the hook
So she’s always in a pickle
     Doesn’t do things by the book

Once again, I’m gonna help her
     Since she is such a good egg
I said, girl, you’d go much farther
     If you weren’t such a nut Meg



Copyright © Mike Gentile | Year Posted 2017


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To All the Pens I've Lost Before

To all the pens I’ve lost before
That rolled off my desk and, on the floor
I’m glad they came along
I dedicate this song
To all the pens I’ve lost before

To all the pens I’ve once caressed
And may I say, I’ve held the best
For helping me to grow, I owe a lot I know
To all the pens I’ve lost before

Ideas in my mind were growing
And all those things I had to say 
Those things and thoughts my inward praying
Etched in pen with verse I’d play

To all the pens that gave words life
That helped express love to my wife
I’m glad you came along
I dedicate this song
To all the pens I’ve lost before

To all the pens that inspired me
That filled empty pages with fantasy
They live within my heart
Always playing an important part
For all the pens I’ve lost before

With the wisdom each pen was bestowing
They helped me find the right words to say
Inspiration steadily growing
Why did the best pens never stay

To all the pens I’ve lost before
That rolled off my desk and, on the floor
I’m glad they came along
I dedicate this song
To all the pens I’ve lost before

To all the pens I’ve held before
From you I could not ask for more
Yes, I’m glad you came along
Without you I couldn’t write my songs
To all the pens I’ve lost before.


A parody of Willie Nelson’s song, I hope you enjoy.


Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2018


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A Reverse Rant

"Rhyming poems have nothing of substance to say
They're childish! Ridiculous! Silly! Passe!

What's that - 'The Raven,' fine prose, you assure?
Pshaw, a talking bird is not literature!
'The Road Not Taken' - how indecisively trite
'Shall I Compare Thee to a Summer's Day,' why, out of spite?

'How Do I Love Thee' - such female nonsense!
'She Walks in Beauty,' not even past tense!
'Oh Captain, my Captain', just repeats and repeats
'Death Be Not Proud' - indeed, no great feat

Rhyme is over and done, finite, dead
Give me a rambling run-on sentence, instead!"

Sure, it's easy to call Dr. Seuss poppycock
HIS books are world-famous, what have YOU got?

12/11/18

for Let 'Er Rip # 2 contest
sponsor: John Lawless

AND

Make me LOL contest
sponsor: Nina Parmenter


Copyright © Michelle Faulkner | Year Posted 2018


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BLACK SUNDAY 21st OCTOBER 2018

Twenty first of October in two thousand and eighteen
Was the worst disaster poetry soup had seen
Poems wiped off the website as all the poets slept
When the disaster unfolded many poets wept.

Some had spent hours composing their verses
But no backup made, the air soon filled with curses
Contest entries too vanished without trace
Sponsors left fuming they had nothing to place.

And the beautiful comments people said about you
Into a cyber space black hole they all vanished too
The next night the poems, to everyone’s dismay
Returned to the site, ‘twas like Groundhog day.

Some blamed the Russians, some blamed the C.I.A.
Others wanted revenge for what happened that day
But do rest assured, soup said “have no fear
Free membership for everyone, for a whole year”

Now that’s a kind act I’m sure you’ll agree
Remember worse disasters have happened at sea
The moral of this verse is to remind everyone
Make a backup of your work when it is done.





(This did happen, not sure about the free membership though lol.
But it is a wake up call; always back up your work.)


Copyright © Tom Cunningham | Year Posted 2018


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Pirate Bay

```Pirate Bay the Haiku``` 

pirates fierce and mean 
drowning fish, sea to sea 
parrots on their butt 


```Polly Wants A Cracker``` 

bloodthirst & brutal 
Quartermaster Gone Wild 
dirty wings on deck 


```Sea World Adventure``` 
ship crew goes on strike 
sailing the Caribbean 
wooden leg splashing 


~*~


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2015


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Mimes at My Funeral

When my time is done and I am finally laid to rest
I don’t want to be recalled as one who lived life depressed

So as I wrote my will, I chose to leave an instruction
That laughing gas be inhaled by all those at the function

No mournful eulogies will a pastor have to invent
For my funeral will be held under a circus tent

When dozens of clowns emerge from the tiny Volkswagen
Reams of my silly limericks Bozo will be dragin’

And as they’re read aloud, family and friends who knew me best
Will say, “She had a sense of humor, this we can attest.”

Mimes will mimic me trying to write the world’s best novel
As my corpse hangs from the trapeze, surely they will marvel

Laughter will ensue as they shoot me from the cannon
Flying high in my demise across the great Grand Canyon

All the children will smile and there’ll be no tears allowed
So no one will ever remember me as a “dark cloud”

There are people who seem to take life way too seriously 
When I meet my Maker, don’t view this as a tragedy

Dad called me his “happy girl,” so let me go out that way
I want to leave them laughing as I reach my judgment day




Date:  Written March 26, 2011, entered in contest December 11, 2018
Contest Name: Make Me Actually LOL Poetry Contest
Sponsor:  Nina Parmenter


Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2011


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Cas Tim Jan And Me

You have all heard I am sure of the three musketeers
The group with the swords not the ones with the funny ears

Reminds me of a joke that right here would apply
There are three kinds of people I tell you no lie
Those who are really quite good at math
And those who are not and that's that

They were the three musketeers but they were four
Their math was bad not three, four and no more
I hope you're all still with me, I'm not trying to be a pest
I need you to follow me because at the end there's a test

There is Casarah 
Yeah and hurrah
She is a good ma

Then there is Tim
You should know him
He's tall and trim

And  finally there is the kind hearted Jan
From England she's the one with no tan
Coy and demure behind her fancy fan
 
 If you kept count that makes three
Who can argue. You'd have to agree.
Now we have arrived at what I am trying to say
I've just joined them and I quite enjoy sword play

Do you see? I am number four.
I'll just walk through their door.
That makes me the best, the fillet mignon
It turns  out that I am frikin'  D'Artagnan.


Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2014


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pun with eggs

Benedict was tired, he’d been driving all day.  
This was his last delivery, 2 tonnes of eggs delivered to Safeway.  
The kid came out of nowhere, stared Benedict in the face,
He tried to brake, then swerved, in the wrong place.

The scene was chaos, emergency services scramble into action,
Ambulance officer, Florentine put Benedict’s legs into traction,
loaded him in the ambulance and quickly whisked him from the site.
The bystanders hoped that Benedict would be all white!

Sergeant Skillet arrived on the scene, he was feeling a little queasy.
A witness came forward and told Skillet the truck went over easy.
Skillet gleefully took a statement, finally a case he could crack.
He poached a pen from Constable Quiche, wrote it down on his back.

The clean up took some time, it was a delicate operation.
The fire brigade, were walking on “eggshells”, had been since they left the station.
Scene commander, Dumpty, directed the crew from a nearby wall.
If things went wrong, he knew he’d be the one to take the fall.

A nearby, protest group, trying to shake loose the yoke of oppression,
were called over to help, clean the streets, for these young folk a good lesson.
It’s not all about being self, centred from the cradle to the casket.
And to remember the old adage, Don’t put all your eggs in one basket. 


Copyright © old man emu | Year Posted 2017


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The Curse: COLLABORATION

A man with a quiet demeanor was cursed with a miniscule wiener. He tried lotions and pills But not one cured his ills. Now he's a silent nail hole cleaner. BY DALE GREGORY COZART His todger though tiny still worked. When he went for a wee it jerked. He could still have full sex. It was rather complex, but when it was over he smirked. BY JAN ALLISON His wee-wee was indeed very wee to the extent that no one could see. When asked, “Are you a man?” He replied, “Yes, I am. You can follow up stream when I pee.” BY DALE GREGORY COZART Went out for a night with a hooker Blonde but thick and no looker When she saw his todger Said my dog is bigger You're taking me for a sucker BY SEREN ROBERTS A silent curse shrunk his wee to a teeny thing I swear it is no bigger than a lil chicken wing For sex a useless reject Can't tell when its erect We make jokes about his miniature ding a ling BY MARTI Wait a minute please, I won't tell a lie isn't always small, it's big as apple pie the winds were mighty chilly affecting my poor old Willie now you hurt my feelings, think I'm gonna cry BY TIM SMITH Big Bertha said, "It ain't the cubic inches nope, the part for me what clinches is strokes per minute while they's in it not a tool needs movin' with winches." BY LIM'RICK FLATS if you want join in the fun!


Copyright © Dale Gregory Cozart | Year Posted 2017


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Americans Can't Spell

You Americans really can’t spell,
There, I’ve said it out loud - what the hell!
Though we all recognise,
And, yes, humour your tries,
Well, the fact is, you’ve failed to excel.

It would seem, as the language has travelled,
That the mould has set in - it’s unravelled,
Cataloguing your gaffes,
Could take aeons perhaps,
If I ploughed through them all, I’d be frazzled!

Don’t apologise! Don’t take offence!
It’s quite difficult, in your defence,
But, my friends, with some rigour,
And fervour, and vigour,
Your progress could be quite immense.

So if vast stateside skies appear grey,
Or the lustre has gone from your day,
You could try drinking cider, 
Say prayers! Eat more fibre! 
Or.. try spelling stuff the right way!



Good night my fabulous American cousins.
You know I love you all x x x

(Oh the irony... as I submitted this, I had to tick the category named “humor” ;-D)



Copyright © Nina Parmenter | Year Posted 2018


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A Man Under Stress, A collaboration with Francis Crasto

My appreciation Francis Crasto for allowing me to collaborate with you as your 'psychiatrist' on ‘A MAN UNDER STRESS’- A great sequel to your recent poem on your page ‘DIG DEEP’. 



Hello Francis, how are you today?
       Silly Question!  
            A moment please, while I set this clock                                 
                      We charge by the hourly rate here
                                You’re aware of that? Just checking
                                                            ‘TESTY’
                                                 Breathe in...Out…in…out…
                                                         Anytime you are ready dear 

Talking about clocks Doc …Hate them every morning Beep Beep Beep, another broken sleep Tick Tock, after a night of booze I hit the snooze on the darn clock. Wondering who I am at the tick of 3am Thinking I better get to work or I'll get docked a dime Can't wait till knock off time So I can grab some ‘grub’ and hit the Pub drink some booze and start rambling with the blokies Sink and lose after gambling on the pokies!
It’s a bit dark in here Don’t mind me … just turning on this light Do carry on please
Too many lights, I feel like fainting I just might with this picture I'm painting When I get home… I think where did it go? Ohhh! I've got a rough sore throat and vertigo Ears are itching, pain and stitching, as I'm thinking I'm getting old, I need a massage got a sore back Got an urge for my bowels to act!
Do you think you can hold on a bit? Still goes on the clock you know
I'm just a modern man under stress looking to indulge, just to forget I need a dozen cans and some hot wild sex
Go to Kings Cross where there’s plenty of that
Just to forget ~ just to forget Need to relax, just need a rest ~ but just can't sleep Feeling homicidal, feeling suicidal ~ emotions run deep Ohhh dear! My arm's gone to sleep!
There, there …Not long now THANK YOU GOD!
Feel the need to stretch my feet Just need a rest, but feel rough in the chest Body is burning and I'm thirsty with chills always working, but can't pay the bills A new day is dawning, but I'm still yawning
Well… yes I can see that…
Can someone lend me some money, so I can spend some money? I'd better earn some money, so I can burn some money I'm just a teary eyed joke with a fear of going broke!
Just as well I ran your credit card through before you started the session
Just need to relax a bit and take a laxative The cramping and spasms are prominent But all this aside I feel confident If I could just get past these impediments That's my plan, under duress Cause I'M A MAN UNDER STRESS!
Indeed you are Francis This may take many sessions There’s that clock Thank you for your visit Same time next week? *Grub is slang for food or a meal


Copyright © Maria Williams | Year Posted 2018


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Musings - Sucker Punched

I can't recall exactly when
Life swung and hit me on my chin
I"m ashamed to say, it knocked me cold
When I came to, I woke up old

While I was out, I had a dream
Of juggling on a balance beam
While jumping hoops, upon one leg
And one wrong move, cost one nest egg

Was it yesterday or the day before
I had it all but wanted more
When days were long and fears were short
Carouse by day, at night cavort

Yesterday, less was more
It must have been the day before
I wish I'd seen life's sucker punch
'cause now my memory's out to lunch


          by Daniel Turner


Copyright © Daniel Turner | Year Posted 2018


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Knowin how to keep em

Oh don't think that I ain't seein'
As you roll those purty eyes,'
And my man stands there a gawkin'
Like he'd won some sort of prize.

My ma taught me how to keep em
And to cut you down to size.
For there ain't no man worth havin'
Can resist my apple pies.


Copyright © Joyce Johnson | Year Posted 2018


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Sickbags

Troop-troop-a-troop, into line, bright-eyed poets,
There’s one way to write now! We’ve told you! You know it!
Don’t mention your heart or your soul, don’t go aching
Or rhyming, or metring, or feeling or breaking
the rules! There are RULES! Did you not get the email?
Don’t make pretty stanzas, you cretins, you’ll derail
the cold, sniffy wagon of leading-edge writing,
You simile sinners! We’ll not be inviting
such boneheaded blah-bags of beauty to dinners,
Don’t look at the shortlists! Don’t talk to the winners,
who spoke of their sadness through sickbags, urinals
and corpses and dentures and came to the finals
In irony-beards – look at you with your normal!
You speak of your children – unspeakably awful!
Who wants to read that! You are scrap-heap deluded,
See, NO-ONE got published by rhyming like you did,
Or, even worse, laughing... don’t laugh! We want litter
and entrails and filth, we want messed up and bitter!
Your poems are passé; you ought to destroy them...
What do you mean, people seem to ENJOY them?? 

 
 
29 October 2018
For Creative Conformity Contest
Sponsored by John Lawless


Copyright © Nina Parmenter | Year Posted 2018


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THE RULES FOR 8X8

Compose eight lines consult your muse
Subject matter is what you choose
Just eight syllables on each line
Follow these rules and you'll be fine
Pretty pictures you do not need 
Your words only so please take heed
Only plain text no fancy fonts
And that you'll find is what she want's.




Written on 10th November 2018


Copyright © Tom Cunningham | Year Posted 2018


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Newton's Law

I was inattentive in Science class one day
When the teacher at random looked my way
I didn't look up, I wouldn't dare
There's no escaping that intense glare.

Asked me to explain to the class
Newton's Law of Gravity and mass
My mind was a blank, heartbeats louder
For an answer I started to flounder.

I stood before the class trembling with fear
"Gravity" I said...and then oh dear!!!
I fell off the stage on to the floor
How the class with laughter did roar.

The children tittered in great amusement
They didn't know my sad predicament
The teacher said, "You've demonstrated gravity"
"Although you did it with much levity".

At length I returned to my seat
With many applause did they greet
Now I look back upon this and ponder
I decide to listen and not let my mind wander.


Copyright © Nandita Das | Year Posted 2015


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A Joyless Job

At the window, palms under my chin,
such beauty I see, out the frosted pane,
I was mesmerized, it showed in my grin,
so picture perfect, the snow covered lane.

My daydream was dashed, Mom called from the door,
"time to brave the cold and clear the sidewalk,"
grabbed my winter coat and boots from the floor,
I hate this chore, but knew not to back-talk.

"Don't slip on the ice, watch out for the plow,"
I hear, as orange shovel meets concrete,
shouldn't the county have this done by now?,
this takes all day, with snow piled up in feet.

Why freeze for allowance, I'll never know,
yet, I still find myself shoveling snow.






November 18th, 2014

Sara Kendrick's contest - "Jobs"


Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2014


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Chopped III - Humor

i narrate me own story in a fake english accent. the bloody typewriter is 
broken, it can't capitalize. i'm out of coins for the heater. i can see me own 
breath. it must be really bad . it's summer here in london. i'm a tough guy who 
carries a gun. don't mean i don't want to look good. i freshen up my lipstick,
light up a cigarette and offer one to my secretary. she is hot really hot.
like i said it's summer. she don't wear lipstick it wouldn't help. in the 
encyclopedia under the word butch is her picture. 

i put out my cig in an ashtray overflowin. i'd tell her to empty it but she scares me. 
she only wears one gold earring. who does that? i'm workin on a case, already 
drank half the beers. by the way i'm a dick a private dick. the name is rock,
rock hard. there's a knock at the door. this could be bad she has two fourty fives, 
she's also got a gun. 

she's holding an airline ticket. no reason. she says she just likes it. 
whatever! maybe it has to do with some kind of contest. 
she says we're going for a ride. we are driving when she gets a flat.

i pump she pumps then we get out  of the car and fix the flat. never liked 
cars, horses are more convenient. less breakdowns. she takes us to a 
party everyone is jumpin for joy, so joy gets up and leaves. bet you wish 
this was going somewhere. it's not. like i said i'm a dick.


11~28~2014
Contest: Chopped III
Sponsor: craig cornish


Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2014


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Justice - A Parable

A woman gave birth to a son
named Justice; he had little fun.
If he wanted to play,
his mama would say,
“But only when Justice is done!”

Poor Justice, from morning till night,
tried hard to do everything right.
By the end of the day,
he still could not play,
for his time to do chores was so tight!

His life was a crime with no play!
We all know that crime doesn’t pay.
But were I in his shoes,
having paid all my dues,
I think I might just run away.

Well, sure enough, Justice did flee
and ended up in Tennessee.
With no place to belong,
he felt sad till along
came a girl who smiled tenderly.

Looking ragged, he asked (with some shame)
if the young girl would tell him her name.
“Can you guess?” said the Miss.
“Here’s a clue. It is this. . . 
Those who have me don’t take all the blame.”

The young man did not have a clue
what her name was; it was all new.
He’d never hear of
- yet soon grew to love -
this girl  and her charming name too.

Today Justice likes more his life
because this girl lessens his strife.
He learned her name well
when in love he fell
and Mercy he took for a wife!

For the Story Poem Contest Poetry Contest of Carol Eastman


Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2015


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You never know till you get to know

One dark night a saucer crashed; the military quickly cleaned up the trash. In the distance, what they didn’t see; a thin, white face between the trees. Once all was quiet, little Gili-ok crept, from the woods where he had slept. The rising sun, he felt was great, but without his transport, he’d met his fate. A distant farmhouse, he drew near; he’d find food there; the scent was clear. To the doorway he did head; but he was overcome by sudden dread. Standing just inside the door, a human creature loudly warned… “Come no closer, you little freak, or I’ll put a bullet, a’tween yer teeth”. Gili-ok stopped dead in his tracks; he thought about just turning back, But reading farmer Jones’s mind; he beamed his message, oh so fine. “I come in peace, my human friend; I only want my wounds to mend”. Old farmer Jones, lowered his gun; He said, “I see that you are wounded, son.” Into the house, Gili-ok walked and they ate breakfast, as he talked. Old farmer Jones, then smiled and said, “It’s a wonder, you ain’t dead!” Guli-ok was soon patched up and graciously, he fixed old Jones’s truck. One finger touched the clunker’s hood; the old sparks fired and that thing, ran good! “Say, yer a fine repairman son and I could use a hand on this farm. Would’ya stay a’spell; help me plant seed? I’ll give room, board and feed.” Now Gili-ok knew he’d have to wait for friends to rescue him from his fate. Into the barn, he did go and soon the tractor…out it rolled. “I’ll be.” Said Farmer Jones, surprised; he really couldn’t believe his eyes. Little Gili-ok thrashed a ton of wheat; he filled the silo, nice and neat. The hogs and chickens were swiftly fed, when Gili-ok simply turned his head. Old Jones, he watched with shock and awe, as hay bales levitated into the barn loft. Week after week, Gili-ok did work, fixing equipment and working the dirt. The one year there, Gili-ok spent; made farmer Jones, a rich old gent. When Gili-ok’s pals finally arrived, they gifted Jones’s truck with a new hyper-drive. On his tractor, they added super-warp and on his house, they zapped a porch. As Gili-ok waved a sad goodbye, Farmer Jones began to cry. Into his head a message was beamed, “You must forget all that you’ve seen”. Never again did old Jones need to struggle planting all his seeds. His new warp tractor would miraculously plow and seed his crops; how he was, “wow’d”! A lesson Jones did learn from this; to befriend aliens, can be bliss. He was so happy that he didn’t shoot; he gave Gili-ok a brand new pair of boots. As Jones sat up watching the late, late show; his HDTV began to glow. It bleeped twice; the pixels morphed and on the screen was Gili-ok, of course! Gili-ok winked one oval eye and Jones waved back, with a sigh; happy that he’d gotten to know, that skinny little, alien soul.


Copyright © M. L. Kiser | Year Posted 2017


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HEAR EAR

Over recent months I’ve had trouble with my hearing… Misinterpreting what is being said isn’t so endearing Take a step back and think of all the things you would miss if you couldn’t hear at all The list is endless but here are a few I came up with The cry of a newborn baby and your child’s first words The symphony of the dawn chorus Music and speech on the radio or TV Phone conversations or chatting with friends Going to the theatre or to a concert The door bell or alarm clock ringing And of course there are those three little words we love to hear … ‘IS DINNER READY ?’ OOPS I MEAN I LOVE YOU I took the plunge and saw a specialist and have been fitted with a hearing aid Wow what a difference it has made I can hear perfectly now From the squeak of a mouse to the moo of a cow And the best bit of all… If someone is mouthy and starts to scoff I can quickly turn my hearing aid off!!! 10~06~16 N B I have to approach what has been and what is going on in my life with humour it is just the way I cope with what life throws my way


Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2016


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Ode to Chocolate-COLLABORATION

To chocolate I pay my respects
Some folks say its better than sex
whether milk dark or white
Ev’ry bar I must bite
or I'll get a lack of choccy complex

I NEED chocolate it’s an unwritten rule
I'm a woman not a blithering fool
Give me a constant supply
On days that end with a Y
when choc’s smeared round my mouth it looks cool

BY JAN ALLISON

Most women love something that’s sweet
And chocolate it cannot be beat
Deny them and they’ll pout
Choc is all they think about
Many men think it's all that they'll eat.

BY DALE GREGORY COZART

She lustingly said to bring some to her room
off went my trousers in a vertical zoom
I gazed in her eyes
but to my surprise
I gave her the chocolate she gave me a broom

BY TIM SMITH

Give me the chocolate and forget the sex
But please don't send it through Fed Ex
It'll melt in the summer
And that's a real bummer
Now that's a problem to vex and perplex

BY LIN LANE

Chocolates make me feel great
I forget the part about weight
If I was a tad thinner
Would think chocolate ideal for dinner
Will settle for sex after eight

BY SEREN ROBERTS

Chocolate is all that she wishes
She loves anything that Swiss is
I brought her a box
She quick changed the locks
Guess I’ll just go sleep with the Mrs.

BY DEAN WOOD

One woman with sweet loving lips
ate nothing but dark chocolate chips.
Her husband's retort?
"To enter her port
is like docking between two battleships!"

BY LIM'RICK FLATS


Copyright © Dale Gregory Cozart | Year Posted 2017