Best Jocular Poems
How I weave fancies around my dream date
If time could satisfy some of my whims,
I would, like a sprightly fawn, hop and jump
Jubilant, jocular, joyous, and juvenile!
Between the departing day and the descending night
If it suddenly rains as a bolt from the blue
With no umbrella to shield our heads
How I wish to walk with you
My hands twined around your waist,
With no one else but only you and me.
When the sun hides behind the Western ghats
Bleeding red and waxing pale
How I wish to ramble hand in hand
Along the seashore under the canopy of the sky
Sharing silent thoughts and counting the waves
Lost in our private world, just you and me!
On a bright clear day when the Southern Bay
Like a voluptuous maid lies draped in blue
And its placid surface dotted with sailing boats,
How I wish to get into one
And drift afar to some unknown destination
With no one else but you and me
Somewhere in a sheltered nook,
Screened from the buzzing crowd with a river winding by
And the clear waters snoozing on the white sand,
In a small, sequestered cottage,
Where nightly winds flute on the windowpanes
How I wish to spend a night with only you and me
There as we stand in a tight warm embrace,
When your hot breath falls on the nape of my neck,
And as you pant with passion and call me ‘My love’
How I wish to get enrobed in your mystery
And sail down to the abyss of an unknown experience
When nobody else matters, but only you and me!
…………………………..........................................
Feb.7. 2023
~ Placed First~
My Dream Date Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Anoucheka Gangabissoon
Categories:
jocular, beautiful, desire, dream, love,
Form:
Free verse
Your Indigo Ink, Yes, You
“Great spirits have always encountered
opposition from medicore minds”
Albert Einstein
Your very best poems are about truth, goodness or
beauty!
Yet, ignored, over something... not only ghastly base,
but something mindlessly fruity.
Do not fret if they are ignored, move on and close
the door.
If you are here to be loved and very popular, it
shows in your poetry, which is mostly jocular.
Let others write exactly as they choose.
Get up, read a poet you like, by wearing your
poetic soul shoes.
Why keep reading, only those at the top?
There are thousands rarely read, they are humans
after all, not floor mops!
Ah, those photos on that homepage are so very
deceiving!
Poses of love and great beauty, and then come
their vicious comments~ indeed a very, dark soul
revealing.
Never mind mean cracks at your poems!
These are unloving poets staring at their
contorted faux image.
Under their own cruel mind-domes!
Best we learn from one another.
Than to do all in our power, a good poet’s writ,
to ignore and smother.
Tell me, how great you must feel, when you turn
off your night light.
When some here really do choose to
make of another, a joke and a blight?
Better to support than do all in your power to
smother one another.
Than to prance about here, pretending others are
not your equals or poetry brothers.
Jealousy here? A purely teenage emotion!
It destroys friendships here, and creates a painful
commotion.
I cannot use his name, it would not be right,
But his humor is impressive, classical and a most
appreciated delight.
10/4/2021
Categories:
jocular, how i feel, poetry,
Form:
Rhyme
Apprehend a blessed moment
of wonderful haughty agreeableness
Embroider it into a legacy hour
Exhilarated and motivated yet?
Not a gargantuous task
bohunks and lunkheads can do it
Jocular? Not me.
Grandiloquent perhaps.
Lavish yourself with volumes of joy
Be flexible, accept inspiration
Today is the first day of happiness
encouraging many succeeding such days
Glean hope and faith so you can
share it and embellish it
Deranged? Not any more than I was
yesterday or the day before
Categories:
jocular, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form:
Free verse
Mr. Bean has made the world go laughing
and if laughter tis the best medicine
then Mr. Bean sure is doctor of laughter
for quite apt is he at appealing humour!
Perhaps the world's best most beloved buffoon
with antics that could beat and defeat any clown or cartoon
King of joke, king of mock
he could send you rolling with laughter
With a serious silly face he played his pranks
to send you laughing ever after.
A funny man who purposely makes slips
or amuses the audience with amusing quips
A man immune to derision and ridicule
for he deliberately prefers to be comic
Funny is to watch him break any rule
for we all know it's just an onscreen antic.
Laugh and laugh, laugh till your sides ached
but watch how he has the last laugh
This jocular chap has mastered the art of comedy
He amuses quite single-handedly without aid or staff.
So before him on your small screen
your attention span for once shan't be mean
Just prepare to broaden that jaw
you're totally free to guffaw
at this engaging man of mock
this deliberate laughing-stock!
Few have not gone into rhapsody
over this funny fellar, King of comedy
So come heal yer malady
The king of jest
Jester's truly best
(I wrote dis last yr n recently i heard n confirmd it thru google too the nice news that mr.Bean converted to Islam. Skeptics had rather doubt it yet im sure d news has some basis. If true then mr.Bean im more yer fan than eva )
Categories:
jocular, career, cheer up, fun,
Form:
Clerihew
Apples and Azaleas are always around.
Bright beautiful buds bloom while
crisp cultured cabbage and cucumbers
dot the darkened dirt.
Every edible is excellent.
Fame is so far flung for
Grandma's glorious garden that
Handy Horticulture has offered to hire her.
Imagine, envision her incredulity of their insistence.
Just another jovial, jocular juncture in Grandma's jubliant journey.
TLH © 07-11-2012
Categories:
jocular, happiness, people, uplifting,
Form:
Alliteration
ajay acrostic
A : Affectionate I’m by character,
J : Jocular being my nature.
A : Amiable is my attitude,
Y : Youthful I’m in plentitude.
Categories:
jocular, angel, appreciation, art,
Form:
Acrostic
Shall I relay a sidesplitting hoot from my “care-free” on campus fun phase?
It entails a laboratory session involving three mystic world colossal oafs.
One had an unerring penchant for Laurel and Hardy mishaps, the other this beautiful dreamer whose attention span rambled for miles.
a meandering focal point tourist with no yen for one spot or one task.
As for me the fault-prone narrator I had comic book deficits too.
Pulitzer Prize petty fog pinpoint, fastidious fat head by gum!
At the hearth of this tale is a chemistry prep that was doomed from an innocent outset.
It was aptly enough “Anodyne,” this soon to be splitting head bushfire.
From uproarious weighing scale howlers, to starter material gaffes, to say nothing of sequential missteps, Mount Everest blunders galore.
Our ill-fitting glassware threw tantrums, miscellaneous beaker’s burst dams, reactants rose up, a calamitous farce, they shed buckets of organic stuff down the sink.
For all my precision I seemed a right goof with this risible maximum brownie point fetish.
My beautiful dreamer close comrade who by turns Walter Mitty pale stand-in now immune to chaotic abandon at large.
That accident-prone other pal
would be every insurer’s worst nightmare.
Nearby class mates could barely restrain widespread glee at us laughing stock hapless quaint bunch.
The poor teacher in charge had a seizure, quite gormless, green faced and gobsmacked.
“I wonder what next can go wrong.”
“Quite frankly I shudder to think as you merry buffoons soldier on.”
This thunderstruck teacher was known as the “doyen of do it right down to the dottiest detail.”
After a humorous pause his eyeballs rotate in jocular mode then made a ginormous grand gesture.
“Put this jinx ridden self-destruct day in some tuck away memory file.”
“Write a one page report, say the gremlins prevailed and I’ll give you an average mark.”
“For goodness sakes don’t blow this offer like you’ve nearly blown
up my whole group.”
On an ironic note “doyen do it right” gave a brief safety course start of term.
It seemingly fell on deaf ears.
I’ll be blowed as my parents once said when life took a damned awful turn.
We three “Einsteins” in technical garb almost were, blowed that is!
Posted ; 11th January 2022
Categories:
jocular, art, character, color, confusion,
Form:
Prose Poetry
The scavenger dog
Moving along the dirty streets
With its standing ears down
Sored at both tip. No gametes
At sight sex unknown no proper noun
Running away from stones
Well targeted, thrown by the jocular juveniles
For showing interest in contested bones
They laugh unhappily as their best friend flies
Feasting on the black round faeces
Of well fed fat goats
Or a week old lorry ridden rats or rotten Pisces
Puddle. Lucky when it sees a bone that floats
Playing seriously with Latrine flies
Who always surround its nine vivid ribs
Sucking nectar where it wounds lies.
In its hair dead ticks build their cribs.
Lying comfortably on the puffy street sewage
Allowing the fighting mice to lull it to death
It was after a drink from the drainage
And barking on a scorpion which it later ate.
Shaking helplessly on the road
Till the lead trailer ran pass it.
It was buried by cars and buses full with load
The worms and flies could not just die with it
It was a pregnant dog.
Categories:
jocular, death, people, sad, social,
Form:
Ballad
Joel is my name
I am neither jovial or jocular,
I am an intense siren of scorn
strident with shouts of locusts and sackcloth sorrows,
for in my scroll I see the scourge of an army
come to ravage what remains of avaricious folly
their legions surrounding the lazy and licentious
a nation become drought of delight and diligence,
and when justice has lost it's appetite
with our People's brittle yoke
the Lord will return us to our fruitful foundations
while splitting the swords of our aggressors
and scattering their sadistic seeds into unloving lands,
this I view with a straining heart
as the cherubim bicker about my ears
reviewing the records for belladonna's bells...
J.A.B.
Categories:
jocular, creation,
Form:
Epic
Today was his special day
Till just a year ago he was taken away
Only God knows the reason he called him home
Leaving all of us missing him so.
My brother Ray was a special young man
Who anyone who knew him could call him friend.
His harsh demeanor was bristling and gruff
You always knew how he felt, when he'd had enough.
He'd let you know with his big booming voice
To hear it once more would be such a joy.
He loved his family, his coworkers his friends
They knew his loyalty was good to the end.
For no fair weather friend could he ever be called
If he loved you and cared he could not be swayed at all
For his love and his loyalty were always true
He wore his feelings on his sleeves and he'd share them with you.
He had a huge and jocular laugh, infectious too.
If you laughed with him, he'd laugh with you
For no one alive had a better sense of humour
Made us all honored to call him our favorite brother.
Now as the sun sets down gloriously this day.
We know it's because of a brother named Ray.
He lives up in Heaven as he did here with us.
Shining his smile upon us and all of his love.
Wrapping us all in his big arms to his chest
He is telling us all to keep doing our best.
To keep making him proud in our thoughts and deeds
And he will see us all when in Heaven we meet.
Categories:
jocular, brother, brother, heaven, brother,
Form:
Rhyme
A luminous sun steadily glaring
Becomes a phenomenal scene
Can blind the observer's eyes
Diffusing its light very quickly
Effulgent as a winter's moon
Fascinating as the calmest sea
Grand illusion of the unreachable Paradise
Herald of the unconquerable skies
Image of the painter's mind
Jocular clouds turning gold
Key West resembles a desert
Lambent dense buckwheat
Masterpiece of His handiwork
Nascent serenity exalted by bells
October's imminent farewell
Piercing the peace of a perfect morning
Quotidian prayer recited by the fisherman
Ravishing his sincere soul
Satisfying the unwavering belief
Tending to instill more faith
Unimpeachable as integrity
Veracious as Christ himself
Wayward as untamed wind
xenon turning to sweet aroma
Yellow bay guarded by black rocks
Zenith's color is tangerine not blue
Categories:
jocular, faith, nature, peace, seasons,
Form:
ABC
I remember the grey slithers of rain,
The jocular driver
As I boarded the bus
At Temple Meads,
And the friendly lady who told me
When we had arrived at the city centre.
I remember the little pub on King Street,
With its quiet maritime atmosphere.
I remember tramping
Along Park Street,
Whiteladies Road and Blackboy Hill,
My arms and hands aching from my bags,
To the little cottage where I had decided to stay
And relax between rehearsals,
Reading, writing, listening to music.
I remember my landlady, tall, timid and beautiful.
(The origins of "An Actor Arrives" lie in the barest elements of a story started but never finished in early 1980, while I was working at the Bristol Old Vic playing the minute part of Mustardseed in a much praised production of Shakespeare's "A Midsummer Night's Dream. It was originally rescued in 2006 from a battered notebook in which I habitually scribbled during spare moments offstage while clad in my costume and covered in blue body make-up and silvery glitter. And while doing so, some of the glitter was transferred from the pages with which they were stained more than a quarter of a century previously onto my hands...an eerie experience indeed.)
Categories:
jocular, england, memory, music, nice,
Form:
Free verse
Above the laughter hovers the lonely soul
feeling the down with its passionate glands.
While the living departs to read around
the knowledge that once was,and surely must be,
the soul alights upon the fragrance of curiosity.
Those jocular voices still resound within the
vacuous chambers of the soul that wavers bereft;
taking to its source their thoughts that lingered inept
behind every careless breath gasping for love.
Joy will not find its place beneath such a spiritless
life that ascends with fruition of a lovelorn realm,
realizing of the flesh's self-confected hell
that breeds the very emotions that fills their eyes
verse by verse from the soul that departs them with a sigh.
Categories:
jocular, inspirational
Form:
Free verse
FOR PAM
On this Spring night. I would love to take you to dinner,
Because,no matter what,you did treat me like a winner.
We both were as different,as any two humans can be.
But love and loyalty bound us in moonlit immortality.
I have not met any like you,who never tried to change me.
And the laughs we had refreshed me as breezes from the sea.
Oh,how strikingly different in fashion we did dress.
Me, lik a wild Samba dancer,you,neatly and perfectly pressed.
There will never be another woman so very sweet.
We, so strikingly, different, jocular women on Oak Street.
I miss so our hour long chats on the-phone,
And then~the Lord decided to take you to His home!
I’d bring you back, if only for one lovely,Spring, night .
Dearest Pam…if only I could…..if only I might!
I envision your page-boy, auburn hair, shining in the sun,
As close to an Angel on earth,you were,smiling, having fun.
Thank you for having magic, divine,exquisite jour de vivre .
I hear your laughter in the whisper of moonlit, Spring leaves.
4/26/2023
Dedicated to my forever friend~~ Pamela
Categories:
jocular, chicago, death of a
Form:
Rhyme
Incorrigible Recalcitrant - Doppelganger (mine)
Ala Goofus and Gallant
highlights my diametrically
divergent alter egos
always the reserved
obedient docile boy
afeared to stray outside narrow
circumscribed comfort zone
figuratively tethered
extremely short leash
choked me like yoked oxen,
albeit non red dually bullish
under bated breath
otherwise submissive
internalizing fury and rage
relentlessly lambasted
daily school bus ride
analogous highway to hell,
thus envisioned monstrous physique
linkedin to superpowers...
whereby giant beastie boy
within scrawny nerd
visiting jocular comeuppance
bopping "jocks" on their beanies
with rotten tangerines
(Tom Lehrer would be proud)
knocking senseless nasty brutes
gleefully pummeling rapscallions
casually, heroically avenging
purging immediate threat
while smugly jauntily
relishing carefree blessed awesome
fistpumping air joyous ride
duplicating bad ass daring
do dexterously doubling
(wishful) dream come true
one prior pipsqueak - yours truly
punishing pestiferous classmates,
who sadistically doled
out daily dose,
non USDA approved
cavalier fierce injustice
taken aback when mine knuckles
compress hoodlums opprobrious
wicked yakking (actually silenced)
fountainhead spewing toxins
exuberantly effusively ebulliently
cleaning principle ringleader's clocks
at long last
traumatizing measure for measure
antagonistic arch nemesis
inflicting insufferable torment
once passively quaffed ruffians threats,
now all's well that ends well,
no matter yours truly expelled
forever pleasantly humming
merrily merrily, merrily,
merrily, imagined life
tis but a dream.
Categories:
jocular, 11th grade, 12th grade,
Form:
Free verse