Best Humorist Poems
I’m Huck, and my last name is Finn.
On the great Mississippi I’ve been
playing hooky from school
‘cause there ain’t any rule
that can keep Huckleberry caged in.
I bet that you’ve already read
about the fun life that I’ve led,
how I got a bad foe
that they called Injun Joe
and how me and Tom one time played dead!
I ain’t nothin’ special, just Huck.
In my boyhood forever I’m stuck.
Just one kid needs to look
at the words in Twain’s book
and I’ll stay alive - with any luck!
*My character, of course, is Huckleberry Finn, taken from the novel of the same title, written by a very witty humorist, Samuel Clemens, AKA Mark Twain.
Written 4/20/14 by Andrea Dietrich for the "Become a fictitious character taken from a book (or a movie) ! Free Poetry Contest" of Giorgio A.V.
Categories:
humorist, books,
Form:
Limerick
**“Those that respect the law and love sausage should watch neither being made.” –
American Humorist/Author Mark Twain (real name Samuel Clemens)
Prestigious lawmaking bodies are comprised of solons*
Some find it hard to refrain from comparing them to cons
Few legislators know the ramifications of bills
And the way they’re rushed to passage can give the public chills
We don’t know what’s in bills or how they strip away our rights
And if we ask our lawmakers, they provide few insights
Piles of amendments are thrust hastily in political machines
Objections are made; no one successfully intervenes
“What’s that?” we ask later when we realize what has been done
(In Kennesaw, Georgia, all citizens MUST purchase guns)
Try to blend the conservative and liberal viewpoints
You’ll find the machine sputters with fat spewing from its joints
It’s like taking hunks of pork and grinding them into links
The process is messy and the outcome usually stinks
No matter! We are supposed to smile and just eat it up
Then we wash it all down with a sip from the lager cup
Pork barrel projects like Alaska’s “Bridge to Nowhere” confound
As on nebulous values of bills lawmakers expound
So beware if for common sense in these bills you forage
And remember old Mark Twain’s analogy to sausage
*Solons are members of any legislative or lawmaking body.
Categories:
humorist, funny
Form:
Couplet
Tribute to our limerick humorist, Tom Cunningham.
This poem written as response to his poem: WINTER’S END HUMOR
DEFAMATION OF CHARACTERS AT WINTER’S END
This Tom is a son of a gun, “Oh shoot!”
Exclamation blunt as this poet coot
Defames one more fellow,
With ink makes him bellow.
Another slipknot, “Oh shoot!”
2/26/2020
Categories:
humorist, humor,
Form:
Limerick
Thinking of O, Ms. Jill Martin was in her solitude “Quietly…breathing”
That, she just waved her hand greeting April Lewis “Without Speaking”
I spied humorist Donald Meikle, writing a “Note to a Lady in Waiting”
Let’s party! exclaimed silent Sami Al-Khalili, but not “Only In Winter”
That’s a real cool idea, and I said, how about in “The Field Of Summer”
Dame Marcyle Beer offered her place, called “Welcome To Fort Beer”
A rising star Taryn Melville proudly breezed in: saying “I Am From…”
But, party guy Anthony Slauson showed us his “Fingers of Freedom”
Leaving noble Alyssa Finley’s young mind fixated in “Dreams Come”
A free verse expert JeanMarie Marchese of Homosassa, uttered “Slow”
Let snow lover Linda Smith tell us first her “Footprints In The Snow”
Indeed, we’ve our time to introduce ourselves, before “The Cockcrow”
Sweet Elaine George arrived, when the night still had a “Tender Heart”
With a special gift, for Raquel Nicholson, ‘cos she has “a broken heart”
I learned that Big John Tanaskow did not wish to go “Back At the Start”
The party made poetic Mark Hansen expressed himself, in “Cloud Nine”
Perhaps he had consumed much of shy type Nicola Steel’s “Plumy Wine”
For he was too excited, to meet a bright Seema Ali, on a “Poetry Online”
Before the party was over, Juanita Ganir, sprung from her “Sacred Well”
And, old Londoner Matt Doe spoke, of his mighty “Showdown In Hell”
To a sexy Tamiviolet Manchas, but, she xoxoxo urged him, “Don’t Tell”
Many thanks, to photographer William Jones, for his “Living In Color”
A souvenir that reflects my own plea to “Make Me Whole, Once More”
A plea to everyone, to all friends, to remember that “My Name Is Thor”
Categories:
humorist, art, friendship, funny, on
Form:
A Rhyme on a Free Verse Poet
Her poetry has brevity and also clarity.
I really like her free verse done that way.
Like miniature free verse too are her haiku.
Often so amazing are they!
From “Kisses” to “Wishes” to “One Serene Morning;”
From “New Year” to “Afternoon Fun,”
The poems of this poet from Canada flow. . .
May Line’s work here never be done!
A Limerick for a Humorist
A fun gal from the Isle of Man
writes “naughty” whenever she can.
For her limerick fame
I should like to rename
her small country the Isle of Jan!
Me
I
write in
many forms -
from classic to
newer invented
one like this: etheree.
Preferring rhythm and rhymes,
I don’t write free verse as often.
But I’ll try my hand at anything
at least once! I’d call my style eclectic.
Jan. 14, 2020 for Line Gauthier's You've Got Style contest
Categories:
humorist, writing,
Form:
Rhyme
There once was a chef named Lew
who swore Samuel's words were true
that Sacred cows make
a great tasting steak
and the best hamburgers too.
Sacred cows make the best hamburger.
Quote by Samuel Clemens (A.K.A. Mark Twain)
(1835-1910) U.S. humorist, writer, and lecturer.
Categories:
humorist, humorous, imagery, satire,
Form:
Limerick
blue planet water
blue sky just scattered sunbeams
dusk's red, unbent light
Brian Johnston
July 28,2014
Poet's Notes:
Isn't it great? Three wonders of nature explained in 17 words. It is so much fun
sharing my love of Physics with others. Lay people in general have no idea the
treasure they are missing. Of course Religious Literalists are the most deprived.
They literally live in the stone age (and the rock is all between their ears!)
Physics is not a replacement for God in my mind, but rather, like a beautiful
sunset, another way of viewing Him, of experiencing His love for us. Physics is
just a different perspective of the same mountain as it were.
God is mysterious (but he is also accessible) . He is a humanist (loving us as
He loves His own son) , a mathematician (the underpinnings of Physics) , a
musician (think of the joy we experience in all harmonies, even discordant
ones) , an artist (the waiting beauty of galaxies far exceeding the imagination
of man) , a humorist (who besides me doesn't think that it is extremely funny
that the Jews, as His chosen people, behaved no differently really than non-
Jews - God granting special favours clearly does not make us better people.
'Just do this for me God and I will never stray! ' Really just hilarious!) , and on
and on.
Really, as usual, Einstein had a very interesting perspective that I think we
should all embrace, 'Reality is an illusion! ' And so it is folks! The only posture
appropriate in the presence of God is one of extreme humility (and gratitude) .
Let me quote one of my own echo poems here, Echo: Alone Too...
Alone….. with the lost! Are prayers ever answered?
Alone….. my heart overwhelmed. Could that be a prayer?
I look at the rainbow as summer squall passes
And find that I'm grateful that I am a player.
Aren't all of life's problems, in the grand scheme of things (if we are honest)
really little more than a 'summer squall? '
Categories:
humorist, nature, planet, perspective,
Form:
Haiku
Innocence has its travails of
Losing the true identity of
Being touchy versus being sensitive.
I ruined many beautiful moments
Forsook my joys to reel in entanglements
Of lively public bantering as being abusive
A mild joke was a jab of cold heartedness
Brooding for days over the other's rudeness
Undervaluing true love by being hyperreactive
I left old love for foreign shores
Not on basis of personal wars
But reasons much more elaborative
Long distances and free of heart
I downsized my kiddish touchiness as advert
My heart became ruminatively introspective
I realised no man could live up to his demeanour and heart
A reversal of attitude transformed me with better art
I pined for his undemanding nature, now so laudative
I returned with a list of do's and dont's in my small fist
Loaded with more love for my compulsive humorist
Being a little calmative, relationships become more attractive
April 22, 2016
Sponsor: Cyndi MacMillan
Categories:
humorist, care, love, love hurts,
Form:
Rhyme
Tried writing stuff of a serious nature
Just knew it wasn't for me
Dabbled a bit but I just couldn't hack it
A humorist is all I'll be
It's not exclusive, still write about love
Some about conflict and war
But I'd rather write about a sorry dude
Slipped on a banana peel and swore
Don't call me Burns or Shelley or Keats
Prefer ones that make me cackle
Guess you could call me low brow poet
Causing one's tail to waggle
Was born with a silver spoon in my mouth
Fortunate when so many struggle
Don't call me down, it wasn't a choice
Much like the law of the jungle
The luck of the draw, whatever you call it
Really didn't have much of a say
I was truly a product of World War II years
Still happy to this very day
© Jack Ellison 2015
Categories:
humorist, humor, world war ii,
Form:
Narrative
gift from father beyond cemetery,
bound red book named Euclid's geometry,
father was head teacher of known repute,
but the son's reading skills were less astute.
wrapped in fine velvet it was in dad's room,
they thought "a clear sign from him from the tomb".
church minister has spoken of the red book,
how it shone a light to life's path he took.
They opened with reverence tried to read,
with words and figures they couldn't succeed,
with great effort they read a page a day,
interpreted the 'holy book' their own way.
Sunday they read about the right angle,
about squares, rhomboids and the rectangles,
it was clear god had a pattern to life,
book be secret between him and his wife.
Each evening they gathered by the fireplace,
read the book with devotion, faith and grace,
they walked in a straight line on their walks,
and they were fair and square in all their talks.
They learned to live among good circles,
prospered reading their little miracle,
they slept in peace with their new found wisdom,
that book was sure a gift from God's kingdom.
Written 31/05/2021
1st placement
He gave her a book contest.... (on the lighter side of life)
Mystic Rose sponsored
10 syllables each line
Inspired by Stephen Leacock- American humorist
Categories:
humorist, blessing, christian, funny,
Form:
Rhyme
IF EVER I HAD A COUNTRY - LXXXII
for Carlos Bousoño, the eminent Spanish critic, poet and professor
who maintained that if you don't like the "humorist",
you're not likely to find much to laugh at in/with his (sense of) "humour"
IF ever I had a country, a country where every TOM-Cat, Dirty-DICK and Royal HARRY wrote what his fellows called POESY
And if ever I were the only SON of a GUNny Sack-Bag incapable of pouting lines to an astronomically non-sensical degree
And as punishment thereof - sans appeal - if I were to be appointed by the Supreme Inter-Galactico-Cosmo-IL-logical Council of the Arbiters of Tyrannic Taste the one and only ARBITER and JURY
And should my fellow-poets ever so much as utter or let escape a squeak on, relating to or about what they cook-up as stew or porridge of
un-hermeneutical ETERNAL VERITIES which they print publish post (ne’er you mind: plagiarize) and/or pander to their pridefully painted images potpourri
I would first and foremost issue an EDICT - nay, even a DECREE - to CONFINE each and every one of my bumble-bee constantly buzzing comrade BARDS, purveyors and promotors of mutually unintelligible verse within their own ivory PENTHOUSES of phantasmagorical (a)musings
under pain of summary banishment - should they ever so much as "peine in poiein » - to the GREAT ATTRACTOR WALL of GALAXIES and so be it, I pray thee
And this, even if I were to be confined to my very own solitary dungeon and be condemned to listen to - against my will, day and night, for ever and ever - the ethereally soul-uplifting poutings of the Poetasters of Isphahan in their wordy giddy swirls of SUFI
And even if I never ever had no country where POETRY had need of mutually EGO-BOOSTING commentary
(c) T. Wignesan - Paris, April 5, 2020
Categories:
humorist, humor, poetry, writing,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
“Some cause happiness wherever they go
Others whenever they go”
One of Oscar Wilde's famous quotes
Would have been a great man to know
“Always forgive your enemies
Nothing annoys them so much”
Another gem from this famous fellow
As a humorist he sure had the touch
“America was discovered before Columbus
But it had always been hushed up”
Yet another gem from this fertile mind
Don't think that's coffee in his cup
“I think God in creating Man
Somewhat overestimated his ability”
This one totally cracks me up
His mind worked with ease and agility
“A little sincerity is a dangerous thing
And a great deal of it is absolutely fatal”
It's something I learned a long time ago
In fact, I think I learned it prenatal
“Anyone who lives within their means
Suffers from a lack of imagination”
You should throw all caution to the wind
And give in to those naughty temptations
“Fashion is a form of ugliness so intolerable
That we have to alter it every six months”
Oscar is one of my favourite humorists
His mind was definitely out to lunch!
© Jack Ellison 2013
Categories:
humorist, humorous,
Form:
Quatrain
Meander and Great Gander
Writing poems and playing a guitar
My soul never scare or leave a scar
Even though some say I'm a rising star
Love hearing me play from off way far
Poems of my personality are an extension
May remove all of your **** retention
Reading my poems is always so much fun
Until off to bathroom body will have to run
Lately, have you ever heard of humoristic
Like a humorist who has gone ballistic
Behind poems and jokes likely will lurk
Something about a jerk who went berserk
If politically correct and into it must meander
Look at grunting goose behind a big gander
Who cussed after causing a meager mishap
So person behind would step in a pile of crap
James Thomas Horn
www.poetrysoup.com
PS. I'll drink to that
And should've bought a cat.
Also, ho-ho-ho-ho-ho
That was I who told you so.
Categories:
humorist, animal, humor, humorous,
Form:
Couplet
Die Maske des Bösen (“The Mask of Evil”)
by Bertolt Brecht
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
A Japanese woodcarving hangs on my wall—
the mask of an ancient demon, limned with golden lacquer.
Not unsympathetically, I observe
the forehead’s bulging veins,
the tremendous strain
such malevolence requires.
***
Original German text:
Die Maske des Bösen
An meiner Wand hängt ein japanisches Holzwerk
Maske eines bösen Dämons, bemalt mit Goldlack.
Mitfühlend sehe ich
Die geschwollenen Stirnadern, andeutend
Wie anstrengend es ist, böse zu sein.
Bertolt Brecht [1898-1956] was a major German poet, playwright, novelist, humorist, essayist, theater director and songwriter. Brecht fled Germany in 1933, when Hitler assumed power. A number of Brecht's poems were written from the perspective of a man who sees his country becoming increasingly fascist, xenophobic and militaristic. Keywords/Tags: Bertolt Brecht, German, translation, Holocaust, poem, war, World War II, Japanese, carving, mask, symbolism, demon, evil, malevolence, sympathy, compassion, understanding, feeling, forehead, veins, swollen, bulging, effort, strain, exhausting, concentration, suggest, suggesting, suggestive, demonstrating, revealing, showing, wall, gold, golden, lacquer, paint, woodwork, totem, malice, hate, hatred, enmity, spite, spitefulness, animosity, anger, maliciousness, malignancy, venom, spleen, viciousness
Categories:
humorist, anger, evil, hate, holocaust,
Form:
Free verse
within the under belly of
this hob bull ling Leviathan beast
induced roaring hungry soundcloud issued
within abdominal folds
finding they in creased
never diminishing, matter
whether I turn north, south, west or east
this adult desired,
soon after he envisioned
buttered crispy dish eyed fancily feast
culinary cut throat Michelin meisters
(pit a less lee) pitted
against Pillsbury doughboy greased
imaginatively gobbling hectare
thousand island inlaid
juiced kickstarting least
unable to pay thee Monsieur's consigliere –
damn, hard cold cash just shy by a nickle
aye first taken got taken hostage
as a wreck loose poet,
the anti write cadre
strip searched
every stitch of clothes I wore,
then subjected me to an aye tip pickle
pun hush ment,
where this deplorable basket case
stood aghast as hounds from hell
got loosed by thee Don Rickle
lathered canine chops
slapped by foamy salivating tongues
poised to ham er and
make mince meat out this pop sickle
but...lo and behold, as vicious
snooping doggy dogs
approached within a hair breadth
minecrafted fingers fluttered
in the air asper ready to tickle
whereat the snarling killers (bon jove)
rolled with faux pas in the air
kicking, laughing (or a similar
fox simile thereof),
inciting Major Domo tuff flair
his nostrils (like...well
an amazing dragon)
with blood red eyes didst glare
while fur sprouted over his bare skin
honor ably dispelling every last hair
which bizarre circumstance, an opportunity
to escape from this thieving Magpie lair
approved by the ghost of Rossini,
who suddenly prestidigitatiously
magically brought to my defense William Tell
(in the guise oven
instant activating App) pull lick caisson
thus juiced by a whisker avoiding a scare.
Perhaps the realm where dormant ideas germinate
will coalesce into sturdy tomes even if posthumously late
recognition gets affianced with a memorialized slate
where no body will lie,
cuz this mortal will get his ashes sprinkled
intermixed with wildlife,
who will unknowingly consecrate and sanctify
rack and pinion traction,
where dost dust will fertile lies
to become reincarnated
via blessings sans creatures who defecate or urinate.
Categories:
humorist, appreciation, baptism, dark, farewell,
Form:
Rhyme