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New Irony Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best Irony poems are below this new poems list.

Irony by Slaughter, Jim
Twisted Irony by Robinson, Michael
Irony by Goss, Christopher
Irony in the Sky by Wood, Dean
WHAT IRONY - A REAL FISHERMAN'S TALE by ALLISON, JAN
Irony Abounds: She Forgot about Inclusivity by Frank, Mark
The Irony of Mirrors by Travis, Andrew
Irony of life by Mohan, Swathi
DESTINYS IRONY by Strand, Brian
AN IRONY OF LIFE by Aondohemba, Tyokosu

View all new Irony Poems

The Best Irony Poems

Details | Irony Poem |

My Affair With A Frost Flower State Of Affairs



There’s a beguiling danger in beauty…

seduced as I was by the fickle fingers of fate musingly stroking my hair
I envisaged
this lusciously lavish landscape 
of sun-raptured heavenly hills and valid valleys
to be a lush, plush place for me to land ~

alas, such deception my naive perception did offer

Buried beneath the facade of a fertile dream-come-true
and a mesmerizing mirage 
of natural light and zephyrus breaths
where your thoughts 
hugged the horizons of my mind 
like clouds on the edges of prairie dog skies
and where your stampeding passions trampled my inhibitions ~ 
were delicate bandeaux of ice 
finespun and feathery like polar gossamer -
that formed on the stems of your ruptured dreams
that then became my nightmare 
when you had your hard freeze
and warm sap still flowed through your veins
pumped and pushing through your broken being
and freezing on contact with the chilled clime
cocooning me in a sudden silken surge of your glazing gauze 
holding me in the vivid wild magic of your frosted crystallized-clutches
fossilizing me in icy opalescent ribbons of ornate whorls - 

unable to escape the grasping glacial petals of your exquisite pain
your frost flowers plunged me into the frigid heart
of your bitter big-bluestem 
prairie winter ~


There’s a beguiling beauty in danger
hypnotized and hijacked
as I was by the rhythmic sways of your tall grass ways
your flickering tongue tasting my air
as my emotions were extorted
till I was bled white
obviously oblivious
that I was being preyed upon
by a stealthy force of nature motivated by indigenous instincts



Susan Ashley
March 13, 2018

--------------------------------




* big bluestem: tall grass native to the Great Plains with bluish leaf sheaths *

* frost flower: thin layers of ice extruded from long-stemmed plants in autumn or early winter. These thin ice layers form beautifully dainty ‘ribbons’ or ‘petals’ *

Details | Irony Poem |

Devils Deadly Dime

Devils deadly dime

The sign said no grown-up at the playground.
Tripping on a penny, like a mime!
My hand is in my pocket with the dime I found.
Its all mine, I asked for the devils hand that time.
Echoes in my head, bounded by a screaming sound.
Paying for a forgotten crime,
on what comes around goes around.

A prison with greed that carries an evil musical chime.
Jumping off the merry-go-round!
Encouraged by the devil,
 the pleasure of his deadly nursery rhyme. 
Now the world is measured by my blood level.

The devils delight feasted on my youth before I hit my prime.
Bashing my mind, with thoughts implanted by evil.
Entering the day with no beauty to my sublime.
Begging him to remove this anvil!

He laughed while he cursed me with a favor for a favor.
A fallout so violently in this world not civil.
One can only lust on the taste that only he can savor.
Hanging out  by the swings wounding me with prey,
on two victims to his delicious flavor.
I climb my way to teach a lesson in hate not love.
Two siblings who always scream for each other.
Giggling as I offered each a push and a shove.
Stopping they give each other a big hug.
Defeating and proving love is a stronger disease
The devil wicked eyes looking  at me like a bug.
Clawing at my inner guts with remorse that he will win this war.
Until another day one skips the penny, 
and begs a poor fool like the devil for his dime.
Tossing heads for his tail when times hits rock bottom.
I will stray away from his deadly reaction time.
He will not own my soul so freak'em,
and his greedy deadly beg of a dime.


by;pd

Details | Irony Poem |

Sun shines on the righteous

It’s only the good that die young.
I sadly have found it seems true.
While evil across earth is flung,
God’s purest of souls are too few.

I sadly have found it seems true
the wicked live long past their prime.
God’s purest of souls are too few.
On earth they live but a short time.

The wicked live long past their prime.
The goodly to heaven do go.
On earth they live but a short time.
The sun shines on the righteous though!

The goodly to heaven do go,
while evil across earth is flung.
The sun shines on the righteous. . . though
It’s only the good that die young!

Written April 12, 2016 for The sun shines on the righteous Poetry Contest of Seren Roberts

Details | Irony Poem |

The Joy Killing Poet

**Back smile/smile Back **

With your heads way up your :]ssa[: 
You will never accomplish the win
I got shots that will protect me from your rabid ways
After you fell into a non-stop falling disease, 
Your movements weakened
Straight from a dried up well, 
Every day you frolic in a disorder that causes more brain damage 
With progressive mental retardation 
You continue to lick the top of your cleft lips

He is the saddest sadist human that ever lived!
So sad he has to live with himself every night
Kissing his young ones Goodnight 
In ways I can't even breathe to tell
The way he follows rabbits down the bunny hole
Killing each laughing hare
Wiping smiles, leaning in, 
The madness in Alice's Wonderland 
Madder and Madder The Hatter
Revealing
Your boldness is nothing more than baldness
A man in a monkey suit
Molesting the minds of his idiotic circle, 
Trying to kill the joy, not knowing
We don't care about his false Harvard WAY
I rather stay here dropping out, than pretending
Following his made-up perception, a cropped out waste
His taste, my best copypaste, he jacked on
A stench, they left behind when open mouths laugh
He educates by attacking women better than his own
Silently to the top of his knife, he stalks nakedly
Removing a few poems he plagiarized
His Poorness, brought many to donate to the salvation of his army
Sadness Delivered by the Joy Killing Poet and his little pigs

Cross My heart and hope to die!!!

~SKAT~

Details | Irony Poem |

The Unknown

-"x+2 = 4"-

Enigmas of the soul
Do you know how it feels?

Never tasted before
Invisible Sun


PD

Details | Irony Poem |

Call Me Insensitive

You call me insensitive,
But I don't believe that's true;
Because, you see,
It's all about me.
It's not about you.

You say your opinion doesn’t matter,
That I’ve no respect for your point of view;
But I do if we agree,
Because it’s all about me.
It’s not about you.

You say I’ve no compassion,
No feelings for your troubles or your blues;
But none of us is issue free,
And mine are all about me;
But…not about you.

A time old adage, 
“To thine own self be true.”,
Is all about choices you see.
My choices are all about me,
And, certainly, not about you.

So, when its time to make your choices
You’ll understand and know it’s true; 
To decide what will or will not be,
Won’t be at all about me;
It will be all about you

But special moments confront each of us,
When what matters isn’t “Me”.
And while these moments are few,
They’re not about me, not about you.
For a time, it’s all about “We.”

Yes, “…no man is an island.”
Is a valid point of view;
But if it’s not about “We”, 
Then it’s all about me.
Sorry.  It’s not about you.

Details | Irony Poem |

You and I and I and You

You, who are so perfect in my eyes, so beautiful- adorable, and I, so flawed, ugly, damaged and crawling with defects; why do you enjoy my company? 

You, who are so sleek and slender, humming with a quiet intellect and a serenity about you, and I, so grossly overweight and pretentiously boastful and nervous; how can you abide my company?

You, who are a paragon of patience, so understanding and self-assured, and I, so insanely impulsive, so myopic and brimming with self-doubt; how do you stand my company?

You, who are so sweet, so considerably kind, so thoughtful and generous, and I, so bitter, so selfish, so self-absorbed; why do you choose my company?

You, who are so self-composed, full of self-control, so sound and stable, and I, so very neurotic, so completely compulsive and verily volatile; how can you tolerate my company?

You, who are so diligent, so driven and ambitious, so achieving, and I, so lackadaisically lazy, so uninspired, so complacent; why do you settle for my company?

You, who are ethical, so moral, so very virtuous, and I, so corrupt, so unprincipled, so wholly wicked; how can you endure my company?

You, who are so normal, so well-adjusted, so conventional, and I, so maniacal, so unbalanced and irrational; why do you condone my company?

You, who are bubbling with charm, who loves unconditionally and is absolutely accepting, and I, boiling with rage, fueled by misanthropy and incredibly intolerant; how can you welcome my company?

That you love and accept me for who and what I am, is a treasure beyond measure. I cherish your company, but why you cherish mine is something I cannot fathom. All I know is that I love you, my dear, beloved friend.

**This was written for two very dear friends: Karen and Tommy :)
***I also love palindromes ;)

*****FREE VERSE OLD AND NEW ENTRY

Details | Irony Poem |

Afraid To Be - Ode To Emily

The day goes -- 
     but I do not 
The west wind blows 
     and I am still

I'm free to fly
     but I just watch
Thoughts of why 
      I know not 

Afraid to be ---
       in a world so rough
Afraid for you
       is faith enough 

A soul at peace
      in world at war  
Life drifts with ease
      but what's in store

The sun will set
       then we'll see
A time for rest --
        for you and me

Details | Irony Poem |

Psycho Evaluation

                          Psycho Evaluation



    Physically unable to deal with all this stress
        a clinical Psychiatrist said that I am depressed
            No shat Sherlock you are such a genius
                10 years of college for this uneducated guess
                    Yah you're just an Idiot with an ego to caress
                    
                    Pockets full of pens and eyeglasses to impress
                    Yes we all notice the impeccable way you dress
                    Armani styled striped suit all ironed and pressed
                    It looks quite expensive only the best for the best
                    No I don't want to do your magic ink blotter test

                    You act as if by the Almighty you are blessed
                Just like the Preacher trying to get us to confess
            So how do I know this won't end up in my arrest
        I guess I'll just have to remove you in the end more or less
    Now who is the one that's stressed???...



                          
                              revised 04/27/16

Details | Irony Poem |

Release

How long must you swallow now
to satisfy the beast 
and will I ever bleed enough
for you to withdraw your teeth? 

Answer me

I’m fading in and out of consciousness 
My lips are turning blue 
but I can feel your skin begin to crawl 
Tell me, what’s eating you? 

Answer me 
What is eating you?

Tell me 
Tell me

Details | Irony Poem |

CONTESTS AND LISTS - MY FAVOURITE THINGS NOT

I pick up my notepad and find a sharp pencil
(Hope any comments won’t be too detrimental)
 
I scan the contest themes and hope I’m inspired
I’ll enter an old poem if I’m just too darn tired
 
I post my ‘best effort’ and hope that I win …
Yet ANOTHER N/A so I start hitting the gin!
 
With tears in my eyes I soup mail all my friends
There’ll be a ‘screwed contest’, will that pay dividends?
 
I finish the bottle, then scan the 'best new poems list'
My poem’s ‘pisadeered’, how my eyes start to mist
 
My masterpiece isn’t there - where has it gone?
It’s been cast into the realms of total oblivion
  
My eyes are now closing, I’m too sozzled to write
It’s well after midnight so I’ll bid you goodnight ....
 
I wake in the morning, dash to check all the lists ...
but with all the moaning on blogs… they no longer exist!

Inspired by Jerry T Curtis's POTD

07~25~16

Details | Irony Poem |

Quacking Crackers

Donald Duck Chancellor of this fowl kingdom 
wearing an upside down smile's raging hypocrite backwards 
this deranged Duck twitters to and fro as his unhinged subjects 
unwittingly applaud him onto a victory march that never appears equal 
except in his alternate universe of oneness 
 
Calamity Jane perchance is on the horizon 
while war looms close by this feather prides himself 
on his big show asking for a mirror to check his orange glow
he jokes and preens fading in and out so it would seem logical
tearing down all good morals he alienates with his constant magic escapades
 
 
Sleight of hand reflections move 
with this fake news it gets exposed
the big top rotates under an eclipsed lie
fire breathing condemning all those against his way
entering the arena for the next late show
 
Now Big Bird has been caught fibbing 
just when they thought everyone was safe
getting off the band wagon or so to speak
Just signing the pact with her feathered friend 
letting on they are getting on so well for the world to see buddies 
Almost joined at the hip like in their loyalty reigning over truth 
in this ungodly circus of the vainest sort
 
Where the funfair clowns abound
under fabrications an orangutan watches on 
beating his chest in an ape like manner and solid hands 
he has no way to express words
puffing and panting swaggers
living under thee umbrella protected from the truth’s influence
 
 
Alvin and his chipmunks sing the national anthem 
while the confederate flag waves goodbye over democracy
begins the three little pigs stages as they enter the building 
their houses from clay flamed with truth
ransomed for vanities sake no good ending can come

Earthquakes separate the earth
floods come with grave disaster  
hurricanes winds rise from the greatest source 
even this cannot deter or distract this awful Duck
one mission under a selfish chant of 
quack a doodle quack, quack a doodle quack, quack a doodle quack
which only translates to me 
only me, me only me, me only me!



a co written piece by Donna Loughman and Liam Mcdaid

Details | Irony Poem |

A Tempered Glass Plate

A Tempered Glass Plate

I really can't explain how I've felt of late.
Words became shorter, time spent rare.
Becoming that obsolete glass tempered plate.
I didn't see it coming, I wasn't even aware.

Thinking our mixture, always just right.
I see it was diluted by another influence.
How could I have miss what shown so bright.
Not even any attempts at all of pursuance.

You've grown and for me lost your need.
As with tempered glass allowed myself weak.
So I bow out gracefully, take your lead.
Doesn't matter if its you i do seek.

I guess life moves on, things you outgrow.
It hurts but shhhh, because its what you show!

Details | Irony Poem |

Main Street Laureate

On the state of American Poetry-  A Non-Poem Poem 




I'm Poet Laureate Of Main Street!
They voted.  I won.
' came down to me and the kid whose
dog shits on everyone's
lawns.

His poem was about a missing red
crayon. Mine- the stop sign someone
stole from the corner of Elm and Main.
(I think I know who did it too.)

Is it coincidence
both poems are about loss? 
Probably not. Poetry is at
its best when expressing
loss.

He'll probably win the position
back next year with a weepy
poem about not having been
chosen Poet Laureate Of Main

Street.  That's fine with me...
as long as he keeps that damn
dog in his own yard!

Details | Irony Poem |

UPHILL


Life's a One Way, Uphill.
Every Wrinkle on your Face
Marks a Step of Maturity.
You go Up not Looking
At the Peak but Dreaming 
Of Sliding Down, Trying to
Look Younger than You Are.

Details | Irony Poem |

Captor and Captive


	“I admire you so, my lovely captive.
	       I fully intend to let you live.
	   I’ve no desire to cause you grief.
	     Your detainment will be brief,”
	          the monarch butterfly
	               said to the lady
	                 on the inside
	                  looking out
	                     from a 
	                       jar.
	
	
March 27, 2018, entered in Joseph May's Picture This Contest

April 1, 2018, entered in Brian Strand's Early April '18 Premiere Contest

Details | Irony Poem |

Stupid smart

What does it look like
From over there
Describe the sights
No details spared 

How does it taste
Is it always delicious
By the look on your face
I’m a bit suspicious

I happen to be
Opposite to you
On the humanity tree
Like yellow and blue

I imagine your half
An enlightened bunch
No need for math
Just an arrogant hunch

It seems quite ironic
To say the least
That, in fact, you’re ignorant
Yet too smart to see

Details | Irony Poem |

of love of war

of love of war

the staff of a prophet, seen
fairness not imagine, sings
shouting out, obscenity
recognized, yet

in search of fame, seeking stance
the moment arises, seek
of voice of power, godsend
renown supremacy, yet

prophet not acknowledged, kept
desire of a great life, sought
skill of voice, articulate
hardly ever, cheek

no longer free, famous self
seldom bite snarls dogma, link
of country of faith, kinship
all that’s true, fair play

desired fame acknowledged, pent
the home front, covetousness
war or peace love or hate, just
yelp puppy love, nice
_________________________|
Penned on September 28, 2014!

Details | Irony Poem |

Jogger and Logger

For "Show Me the Funny (part two)"

There once was a fellow a woggin'*
Who bumped into one who was loggin'
They had quite a spat
The ax was a bat
And the first had a lump on his noggin


* Woggers are those who get all dressed for jogging, but only go at walking speed, while vigorously pumping their arms to delude themselves that they are jogging.

Details | Irony Poem |

The Color Missing

The Color Missing
Red, black, and blue are the colors of our work pens. Red is the color of the blood we spill on other people’s mistakes.  Blue is the color of the songs we sing on tax forms or pay stubs- every page has a secret melody. Black is the color of the streets we fear most. Black is the color of our signature of approval. Black is the color of our death.

‘But what about the Green pens?’ I ask. They say ‘the ink is too hard to see.’

Details | Irony Poem |

Class Reunion

Fifty-year class reunions are stricken with sadness:
Former classmates falling apart before my eyes.
Jane uses a walker, and Stan exhibits madness.
Wages of age foreshadow classmates’ demise.

In youth’s green age I could not fathom this,
A time when peers would be withered and worn.
How I wonder could life have gone so amiss?
Surveying the scene, my heart is heavy, torn.

I give proud thanks that I’m not like the others,
Having been spared of time’s toxic touches.
“But what has befallen my sisters and brothers?”
I ponder the question as I reach for my crutches.

Details | Irony Poem |

My Shoe Collection

My Shoe Collection


Shoes

Nice if you have them

Shoes

There is love
There is happiness
When the next path of your journey
You take with shoes on your feet


Shoes

I am coming out of the closet
I am not a woman
But I do have too many shoes

Shoes

Love and relationships
Why there are a lot like a pair of shoes
At times, things may stink and smell
Yet still better as a pair

Shoes

If I could walk a mile
In everyman’s shoes
I could walk forever
Never having to buy my own


Red Shoes

The Red Socks
Will never win
Without good running shoes


Blue Shoes

If only I had blue shoes
Of suede
Id be dancing with you
After the autographs

Shoes

Homeless people wish for shoes
Millionaires wish for closets


Big Shoes

My feet are so big
Ladies buy me my shoes


Shoe Sale

The man with one leg
Looks for shoe sales
At half off


The Hookers Shoes

A good hooker
Never has used shoes

Academy a Wards

Winners and losers
All complain about their shoes
Petty and jealous, the famously inane
Their shoes show their vain


Shoe Diversity

They come in many fashions
In shoes there is humanities design
We all walk the path of human strife
All Shoes matter


Celtic Shoes

Irish Shoes
Scottish shoes
Welsh shoes
All meet at the pub
So their feet can have a rest
While the mouths imbibe with chatter
If all goes well
Later on
The shoes fall off in a clatter


Miami Vice

Got the finest shoes from Miami
Found out they were fakes
Tongues were bent and crooked
Must have come from crocodile skinned tears
Mocking the homeless with no shoes over the years


The Great Canadian Shoe Trapper

The trapper goes for beaver pelts
The millionaire goes for shoes of felt
Armani makes it all the way
Only when the consumer comes out to play


The Shoeless Argentine

If you wish to invade the Falkland’s
Remember to bring your shoes
Cause your dictator has all your money
He cares not if you really lose

Details | Irony Poem |

Irony Abounds

On an unsinkable ship’s maiden voyage, it sinks.
A pastor who preaches against alcohol, drinks.
One’s surrounded by people, yet remains all alone.
Confessing sins to a priest, those sins are atoned?

A nation’s chief tax czar, who cheats on his taxes?
An animal lover who hunts deer, to relax.
Sing praise and kill humans, in the name of a God?
Destroying our enemies, lasting peace we applaud?

The lifeguard fears water, so remains on dry land.
American foot...ball, is played with the hands.
A high school track coach, who's morbidly obese.
The steakhouse that's owned, by a vegan!

The priest preaching sermons on love, is a pedophile.
Repeat charity builds dependence, over time.
Nations war against drugs, and market alcohol?
DNA tests confirm, Hitler’s Grandfather was Jewish!

Details | Irony Poem |

No Deposit, No Return


Your wishes can't regain,
A thrill so long ago. 
To once again reclaim 
A past you wouldn't know. 

You view a different dance, 
With unfamiliar tune 
You pine for lost romance, 
Yet treasure not the Moon.




Meter - Iambic Trimeter (Cataletic).
A-B, A-B Rhyme.
 
Gene Bourne.
06-11-14




.

Details | Irony Poem |

Confession of a silent Artist

Creative writers are never given flowers while they still breathing poetry.

Biters wait patiently for the last breath to pay their respect and get paid with your work.

Claiming being sent by callings to keep the legend's work alive till infinity.

No doctor has the cue for this sick world.

But guess what we writers do care.

We keep writing spiritually we don't care.

Atleast i don't care, i know you'll be speaking my language with your theft.

Evidently i do share.

You are that invisible disciple i recruited to speak for me in my death.

It's the life of an artist who cares.

We don't seek recognition.

Recognition come to us that's why we endlessly spread.

We are angels with no wings heaven is closer to us we don't fly.

Paradise is home for holidays filled with dead writers.

An escapism from you hooligans.

Its a crime not a mime when you speak rhyme in my rhymes.

Thank God i'm still an infant in this poetry, i have a chance to fill up the grave you dug for me.

Your patience will have to patiently await my departure patiently.

I have enough time to unleash these constipated rhymes.

You think you got me.

I speak better in my rhymes like a machinegun tone spraying pee.

My skeleton is covered in mics louder i do speak rhythmic bones.

My skeleton is made out of cables transporting poetic stones.

My soul will be kept in your brain's museum.

There i said it.

Ye i meant it.