Best Humor Love Poems
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.
For my satire group, and for Will; a fairy tale
To a fanfare of horns
The young knight returned
With a tale of slain dragons to tell
The princesses blushed
And the old queen flushed
And the gay knights were happy as well
He had cast down his cross
From the height of his hoss
And left the thing there where it fell
For the great and the good
Were in need of the wood
To stoke up the fires of hell
He’d only been back for a moment before
He was begging a poke with a pardon
And a giggle, and “Push!”
From a quivering bush
Could be heard from the end of the garden
No need for a graven memorial stone
Or the ring of a funeral bell
The young knight was back
And well up for the crack
And all in the kingdom was well
© Gail Foster 2016
It don’t really matter
If Plaster of Paris is not made in France
If Ginger and Fred never learned how to dance
If shoestring potatoes don’t grow in a shoe
It don’t really matter because I love you
If airports have doorways but call them a gate
If calories will never cause us to wait
If moisture each morning is something that’s due
It don’t really matter because I love you
If hamburgers aren’t really made out of ham
If jelly won't work to get out of a jam
If something that’s old becomes something we knew
It don’t really matter because I love you
If plants that are planted are still called a plant
If uncles get sad when they step on an ant
If skies that are happy do always seem blue
It don’t really matter because I love you
If doors that are open are really ajar
If milkshakes aren’t served on a sweet chocolate bar
If vegetable soup is not really a stew
It don’t really matter because I love you
If kings in a downpour get caught in the reign
If birds lifting boulders are not called a crane
If flying the coop came from chickens that flew
It don’t really matter because I love you
Grammatically speaking, my title is wrong
And maybe this poem goes on a bit long
But who cares as long as you know it is true
The one thing that matters, is that I love you
4/17/17
Written for the: “Best Rhyming Poem 3” poetry contest
Sponsored by John Hamilton
It ain't the pork, it ain't the beans
It ain't the mustard on saltines
It ain't the redneck social scenes
I love about the south
It ain't the ice cold sweet southern tea
It ain't the way that we say please
It ain't the way we lemon squeeze
I love about the south
It ain't the perfect slice of pecan pie
It ain't the wink in the bullfrog's eyes
It ain't the fireflies that light the night
I love about the south
It ain't the way we say yes ma'am
When you visit Alabam
It ain't the attitude of yes we can
I love about the south
It ain't the way that we say ya'll
With the syrupy sweet southern draw
No it ain't none of that at all
I love about the south
It's the crisp clear starry nights
Through the shifting shadows of the loblolly pine
As I stand here with your hand in mine
I love about the south
Just the fact that you are here
And that I can hold you near
As I hear you call me dear
I love about the south
I actually love everything about the South.....
Today,
I love you.
Today,
I hate you.
This week,
I love you,
This week,
I hate you.
Can this go on,
it has for years.
This love hate relationship,
is now over.
I am kicking you to the curb,
to the trash can you must go.
Did you figure me out,
I am your bathroom scale.
Hooray~you are gone.
Variations on the Malay Pantun : The Old Man and the Short Story - VII-IX Continued
for Georges VOISSET, the "Master Keeper-Nurturer" of the Malay Pantun
Check out: www.stateless.mysite.com/Pantouns-20-Aout-2017.pdf
(The pantun line varies between 8 and 12 syllables and is most commonly found in the anonymous quatrain form. Cf " Poietics of the Pantun ", pp. 49-67 in T. Wignesan. Sporadic Striving amid Echoed Voices, Mirrored Images and Stereotypic Posturing in Malaysian-Singaporean Literatures. Allahabad : Cyberwit, 2008, xix-244p.)
VII
The One-Act Play's the favourite Old Men's roman fleuve
Experience shows Old Men how to keep the Wench in hell
They know how to stoke the Imagination with love
They need no how-to softwares to write a novel
VIII
The One-Act Play they say is still Old Men's mainstay
Though on Freytag's Triangle they slip down climax
The Wench cannot make Old Men still come up their way
Not so the Youngster his horns gore Wench's false syntax
IX
The Wench always seeks to milk Old Men in side-burns
Old Men know One-Act Plays don't box-office burgeon
Nor drips invested in banks ensure big returns
Not so the Youngster who banks his bit in oven
© T. Wignesan - Paris, November 11, 2018
Look in your eyes unveils a smoldering ember that could make Gibraltar crumble.
One in a million heart that magically kindles fire without matches. Nothing...
Ventured, nothing gained in this rewarding game of love; a four letter word that
Emanates such sweet ecstasy. And no, I don't mean the drug.
Universal Acrostic Collaboration Poetry Contest/Winner(1st Place)
Sponsored by: Steven Henderson
Date written: and posted 04/01/2016
Lenny was 30 and still living with his old cheese, everyone called, Lenny’s mum.
She was always on his Cadbury Snack to go find a trouble and strife for a chum.
“Geez, leave off mum, I’ve been looking down at the Punchbowl rubbity Dub”.
“Well Lenny, go to the grab a granny at the Rissole, Fridý night will ya luv”.
Friday came, Lenny put on his best bag of fruit and fired up his old VS Dunny Door.
With his pay in his sky rocket as he hit the frog and toad with the peddle to the floor.
Mum put some of dad’s old brill cream in his Fred Astaire before he left the house.
“Be good Lenny, me little china plate, if ya need a lift home give me a Wally Grout”.
Jenny was on the rock ‘n’ roll so she saved up her oxford scholars for a big night out.
She wasn’t flash to look at, with her bifocal monkey’s arses but she had a good jam tart.
She walked into the Rissole, tilting her leg as she let rip a decent Royce Hart.
Her dad would’ve said, “A bit more choke and it would’ve made you start”.
Jenny met Lenny at the near ‘n far, knowing he was giving her the old Captain Cook.
Introductions made and Lenny thought she was a bit of alright, as he had a second look.
They hit it off after Jenny’s Third vodka and Lenny’s fifth schooner of pigs ear.
Feasting on bar snacks of party dogs eyes, Jenny dripping the dead horse in Lenny’s beer.
A couple of young blokes walk up to Jenny and tried to give her Reg Grundies a flick.
Jenny started throwing cut lunches, smashing him on the Lionel Rose, then gave him a kick.
Lenny intervened, saying, “We don’t want any froth and bubble.” Before thing got nasty.
He took Jenny outside screaming, “He’s got a face like a half eaten pasty”.
And that’s how Lenny and Jenny met, Lenny’s mum was happy seeing Lenny with stars in his mud pies.
They got cash ‘n carried, had a couple of billy lids, that loved to eat burgers and fries.
It’s not at all romantic, but that’s how most Aussie love stories go.
Lenny and Jenny together forever, They’re mates most of us will know.
Salt
Cellar by cellar on the cupboard shelf
I fell for you and crave you for myself
You look handsome in your sparkling glass pot
I imagine you'd be tasty and hot.
It'd be lovely to sprinkle together,
There for each other through stormy weather
I'm extremely salty, guess you'd agree
That if we marry, companions we'd be.
Pepper
You're a fine looking lass, I love you lots
Made for each other in matching glass pots
So fine and lovely, in your gown of white,
Would you marry me and become my wife.
Seasoning forever, to have and hold,
My darling will you wear my ring of gold
We'll grow older together tenderly
A match made in Eden are you and me.
Salt and Pepper
And so the wedding for them went ahead
A glorious day it has to be said
Pepper was proud of the bride at his side
Salt wore a smile and a gleam in her eyes.
Salt never stopped sneezing throughout their lives
Yet never complained, she sensed it unwise
Her salty kisses made Pepper’s lips sore
He never confessed, just kissed evermore.
A love affair between a snail
and a tape dispenser
His tiger gaze is blurry -
Honey, I love your body
and your natural curves ...
we complement each other perfectly
Your scent makes mine hips move
with particular charisma
Glued : ... - L O V E
makes
blind -
The young pickler's wife was quite fickle,
one day warm then a cold icicle.
But now she's amorous,
dressed up quite glamorous.
She's tickled the young pickler's pickle!
Make as you feel it
In the sense of your feel
Without forgetting sense
Fais comme tu le sens
Dans le sens de tes sens
Sans oublier le sens
Aby M.
The nose knows
A sight to make tired eyes blink
Skunks walking away from another’s stink
A simple fact not known too well
With one end they stink, the other they smell
A simpler fact that not everyone knows
One end’s the tail the other the nose
The stink they exude
Can be sexy, or rude
A scent that says buddy, I’m ovulating
The difference between just dating….or mating
So, if you inhale a whiff of their scent
Be sure to assess for whom it was meant
For they do not have the blue lit I-phones
They simply respond to unfurled pheromones
though they lack the talent to warble and croon
they do have the scent to make others swoon
while leaving a trail of their pungent perfume
they make quite an entrance when leaving a room.
John G. Lawless
©7/27/2021
The cooings of a snow-white dove
Beseech the wind to bring us love
But pandemics apart
Don't you dare touch my heart
Unless you wear a rubber glove!
ELIZABETHAN LOVE PASTICHE
I will pluck Parmenter from your orchard bower
And taste it’s Ambrose and the scented flower
There we shall pass a brief but blessed hour
While I sup your essence sweet piquant and sour
Lest passing time should look on us to glower
And curse us so no more we may have power
To circumvent the fates and they devour
Our consecrated rapture that they scour
16 July 2019