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The Best Nonsense Poems

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


Twas a fine October morning,
one September, last July!
The moon lay thick upon the ground,
the mud shone in the sky!

The flowers sang so sweetly,
the birds were in full bloom!
As I hurried down the cellar steps,
to sweep the upstairs room!

The time was Tuesday morning,
on Wednesday, just at night!
I saw ten-thousand miles away,
a house, just out of sight!

Its doors projected backwards.
The front was at the back!
It stood alone, between two more,
and it was whitewashed black!

I didn't write this, author unknown!

Copyright © RALPH TAYLOR | Year Posted 2014

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A Bedtime Story

Once, a long ways away, and a long time ago
Lived a wee little man with his silly pet crow;
And once every day, as the sun went to bed
The wee little man and the crow he called Ted
Would go through the woods on a nice little walk;
And while they walked through the woods, his pet crow would talk.
Now, if saying, “Pet crow Ted could talk” twists your tongue,
Just wait till I’m through, and the story is done,
Because Ted tied the twigs of two tall apple trees
To the tips of his toes, and his knobby old knees,
And these twigs made him bounce as he walked ‘round and ‘round,
And he talked really loud while he walked on the ground,
Saying, “Twiddle my fiddles, and tie me a pie,
‘Cause a silly old crow couldn’t fly high as I.”
Then the wee little man said, “You silly old bird,
Just the way that you talk takes the sense from a word;
For if fiddles could twiddle, and pies had a string,
Then ants would walk backwards, and old crows would sing.”
Replied Ted the crow to the wee wizened man,
“Perhaps ants can’t do it, but old crows sure can.”
Then he puffed out his chest, and he cawed cockaroo,
And he sang an old song titled, “How Do You Do?”
“How do you do, little maid, Liddy Lee
When the crows come by twos, and they perch on the tree?
What do you see, little maid, Liddy Lee
When the crows throw the cockleshells out on the sea?
Where do you go, little maid, Liddy Lee
When the snow drives the crows from the mulberry tree?
And what do you hear, little maid, Liddy Lee
When the crows throw the snow on the cockleshell sea?”
But the old man just laughed and said, “Such silly songs
Never croaked such a crow as he hopped right along,
Because ants can’t walk backwards, and crows cannot sing,
Just like horses can’t fly, nor do turtles have wings.”
Now the crow wasn’t happy with what had been said
So he said, “I will sing you another instead,”
Then he puffed out his chest, and he cawed cockaree,
And he sang him a song called, “When Two Turned to Three.”
“When two turned to three, and when five turned to four
Things got much stranger than ever before.
There were two little pigs, and but two blinded mice,
And the two musketeers played with three little dice.
There were five and twenty blackbirds flying in the sky;
And four the little famous boy who never told a lie.
When six turned to seven, and eight turned to ten,
Snow White had six little dwarves with her then.
All the town clocks struck first ten, nine, then eight;
And people were always too early or late,
So they turned it all back to six, seven, eight, nine,
That way we could always keep track of the time.
Now the three pigs are three, and there’s three blinded mice,
And the three musketeers play with two little dice,
And the wee little dwarves number seven in all,
And the clock strikes from one up to twelve down the hall.”
But the old man just laughed and said, “Such silly songs
Never croaked such a crow as he hopped right along,
Because ants can’t walk backwards, and crows cannot sing,
Just like snakes don’t have legs, nor do bunnies have wings.
And with that, the old man put his pet crow to bed;
And till early next morning not a sentence was said.

Copyright © Isaiah Zerbst | Year Posted 2015

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My weakness


Wondrous of many blessings.
Smiling never a frown.
My prayers, Lord, are  suddenly being ignored.
I've taken a tumble of  fallen down
Lord, my life was plain and simple  
How did it come to this?
Lord, now I carry a  burden so deep
A torn up life not easy to fix
Hard to get my prayers before I sleep
Bleeding only internally!
Feeling very minutely!
God, have you deserted me or is it me who deserted you?

God, my Lord, my savior, how could you abandon me?
Must I drown in my own sorrow?
Must I wake up like this today and tomorrow.
Why have you left me, or is it me who left you?

God, I need you like never before.
When I wake up,
When I head out the door.
Tormented in a mood ring of stock
Heavily my tears hit the floor.
God, do you not feel me, or is it me who no longer feel you?

God, what is your plan for me?
What things did I not see?
I asked for you to forgive me in my ways of sin.
Why do you let him provoke me?
Lord, I forbid for him to win.
Relieve me from his gutless pain.
God, do you not believe me, or is it me who no longer believe in you?

God, do you not hear my call
My pitiful excuses make me weak and small
In your eyes, I no longer feel tall
I remain cursed in every single fall
Lord, only you can break this wall
Do you not see me on my knees
Must I beg and crawl?
I am at your mercy, crying out with grief
Open the path to the lighted hall
O' Lord, the day you judge me before your throne
Please tell me it was a lesson for me to stand up on my own
God for now I will end this talk
With the dignity to never look back
I ask if you were there on my endless journey of a relentless walk?


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2010

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A Fine Flavor between lines

Is it Love
a simple bowl of ice cream
sweating from the heat
cherries on the top
huddled 'round and looking sweet
two little wooden paddles
pretend that they are spoons
as we sit beneath the stars
in the savor of the moon
your lips are all I see
as they caress them with a passion 
the cherries on your tongue
in a delightful playful fashion 
with our eyes intent and focused
in a stare of solemn trust
Is this ice cream truly love
or is it merely cherry lust

Copyright © Jerry T Curtis | Year Posted 2015

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'Pardon me, could you pass the Grey Poupon'

Winds caressing fringes of
   her deep chocolate tresses
as tree nymphs nimbly hid
  midst fallen maple leaves 
    happily prancing round toes,
whilst a crescendo of chimes
   played off in near distances,
warm apple pie aroma wafting
 upon a zephyr tickling her nose,
unfastened her reddish cloak 
  for her e'er plunging neckline
exposed an ample décolletage
 voluptuously heaving in broad
 daylight waiting to seduce a crafty
wolf in sheep's clothing she had afore
  encountered on the way to grannies, 
called ahead to make reservations
for her & handsome knighted chef
hiding amidst the dark forest with
his trusty sharpened butcher knife,
had acquired Wolfgang Puck's
   wickedly-satisfying secret recipe
        for savory pack-of-wolves stew 

Li'l Reddish Revenge is a dish best served cold-blooded with liberal
scads of punitive napkins and a bottle of vindictively chilled Chianti

Copyright © Paloma P | Year Posted 2016

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- Ass In Hole -

        This is the donkey; Alice

                 ... follows the rabbit into a hole in the ground

                 ... and this is;

             The beginning of a new fairytale

                    ~  I want to paint it yellow and blue

                               ... and send it to you  ~

           In short;

           All cultures have stories about how

           fairy tales

           come to the people

Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved


The Donkey
November 18, 2011

One day a donkey's *** fell into a well. The animal cried miserably for hours while the farmer tried to figure out what had to be done. In the end, he decided that the animal was old and the well needed to be filled again. It was not worth taking up the donkey.
He invited all his neighbors to help him. They got a shovel each and began to dig up soil and dump into the well. The donkey immediately understood what happened and used his last strength. Then it became absolutely silent to everyone's amazement.
A few shovels later, the farmer finally saw down the well. He was surprised at what he saw. For every spade of soil that landed on the back of the donkey, it made something amazing. The donkey shakes the soil of the back and took a step up
While the peasant's neighbors continued to fill up the well, the donkey did exactly the same and took another step up. Pretty soon, the donkey surprised everyone to step out of the well and run happily away.
There is a lot of dirt in life .... All sorts of dirt. The trick to get out of the well is to shake it off and take a step up. Every problem we have is a rock that we can continue on. We can get out of the deepest wells just by not stopping and never giving up. Shake it off and take a step up!

Remember five simple rules for happiness:
1. Free yourself from hate - forgive
2. Free the mind from worries - most never happen
3. Live easily and appreciate what you have
4. Give more
5. Expect less from people, but more from God

Filed under:
Inspiration, Wise words,
Life, Opportunities, 
Positivity, Problems, Cooperation,
Together, Stress, Strength, Success, 
Believe, Challenges, Options
- gold grains @

           *  ... watch out for holes in the ground :)

Copyright © Sunshine Smile | Year Posted 2017

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Escaping Humanity

Feeling the desolation, of smothering air
Hemmed in by crowds; the obliqueness of fear
Throng of the city and no sight of the sun
Incessant noise and the desire to just run.
And I drive.

Arterial routes clogged by metal and wheels  
Schizophrenic drivers living others ideals
Neon and lights sizzling the sides of the streets
Marketing signage, greed’s consumer receipts.
And I drive.

White picket fences, roses, and manicured lawns
Ridiculous box housing, erected for ludicrous pawns
Playgrounds, big supermarkets, cafes and parks
Sprawling suburbia with its pools built by sharks.
And I drive

Warehouses dispensing the needs of the hordes
Industrious factories like cash castles of lords.
Sawmills busily feeding more desecration of land
Refuse collection sites completely sterile and bland.
And I drive.

Ten-acre barons on frivolous bundles of dirt
Escaping urbanity in the unproductive outskirts.
Postage stamp fields supporting ponies and kids
While toffee nose parents sit in ultra posh digs.
And I drive

Paddocks of cattle dispersed through productive farmland
Shiny new tractors with men toughened and tanned
Marshmallow hay bales pimple the face of the ground
Irrigators urinate on earth until drowned.
And I drive.

Magnificent mountains covered in beckoning trees
Clear running streams and whispering breeze
Wild flowers gently wave with robins flitting around
Radiant true colours and smoothing calm sounds.
And yes I am home.

8th January 2016
Any Poem You Ever Wrote NOT For A Contest - Poetry Contest

Copyright © Mark Woods | Year Posted 2016

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Me Myself And I

Me myself and I
were talking to myselve's
when we asked us a question
and they were not themselves.

They themselves and them
now questioning themselves
said we were not like them
and had to be yourselves.

You yourselve's and you
now separate from myselve's
meant you could not be me
and we could be ourselves.

Copyright © Trevor McLeod | Year Posted 2017

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It Reads Like A Rap

Your rhyme reads like a rap they say,
a rap I say,
a rap they say,
perhaps but rap is rhyme you see,
it's rhyme really,
it's rhyme you see,
this poem is not lyrical,
no not at all,
not lyrical,
'cus songs use words repeatedly,
repeat you see,

We'll use that as the chorus,
it's easy and thoughtless,
lets build a rhyme fortress
with verse summersaultus,
not a word but I don't care,
eating apples grapes and pears,
seeking angles of praise from flair,
story starts now take a chair.
Out in public with clothes removed,
I've had this dream but now it's true,
a dude that's nude and on the move,
without a pube all in plain view,
swing it like a helicopter,
round and round 'til someone stops ya,
grab some weed and party poppers,
run down streets to dart from coppers,
drinking aftershock that shocks ya,
always after the shot has docked ya,
stick your head between some knockers,
wake up thick lipped at the doctors.


Write it like a conversation,
it might give it a new dimension,
in that last verse you forced the rhyme,
of course that's fine in this rap rhyme,
'cus rap is rhyme it's rhyme they rap,
that is a fact a fact is that,
by it's nature rap is rhyme,
if it reads like a rap then it reads like a rhyme,
does that mean always rhyme is rap,
of course it isn't it's less than that,
now that sounds mean, 
what do you mean,
rap rhymes are rhymes and rap,
rhymes just rhyme they're not rap,
well what's this verse then is it rap?
No my friend this verse is crap,
I hope they remember this is a conversation,
they're not reading you lost their attention.


A third verse now this is long winded,
it's forced and pointless poets cringing,
get back to the story, 
now you were knocked out,
yes and I remember nowt,
then what the hell's this rhyme about,
it's like a selfie with lips that pout,
no one cares except the poser,
that means no one notes the nose hair,
wrap this up it's going nowhere,
rap it up like you're a rapper,
this poem keeps on getting crapper,
no one's read as far as here, 
in this worse rhyme you've wrote all year,
at least it flows like hip hop songs,
it flows with flow its flow is strong,
to flow like this use words not long,
here's the chorus lets sing along. 

it reads like a hip hop 

POTD 17/10/2018

Copyright © Nick Trim | Year Posted 2018

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To Stupid To Care

I've dropped my pen, calamity,
I write too much profanity,
it makes people act angrily,
yet I walk around quite happily.

I'm aware I speak like I don't care,
and I reek of rudeness when I share,
but I don't get offended to be fair,
not up here on my high chair.

Naturally I've no remorse,
that means I don't care of course,
but I'm a gent I'll hold the door,
just for me not you and yours.

You read from a rebel without a cause, 
whom finds it fun to wined up fools.
Though I don't hunt them down like jaws,
it's done through words I write with my paws.

With direct rhymes that are unambiguous,
also aimless and thus promiscuous,
this contradiction is a tad ridiculous,
have you worked out yet how I'm ingenious?

I told you at the beginning that I care not,
the lines since caused that to be forgot.
Are you yet to realise the plot?
Now it ends, yep, that's your lot.

Copyright © Nick Trim | Year Posted 2018

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My Reflection

My Reflection

     In the mirror who did I see?
     I saw my reflection staring back at me.

     But in the next  mirror upon the wall
     I saw there was no one there at all.

     Had I left my own image behind
     For another person to come and find?

     On looking in a mirror what would you do,
     If you saw someone who was not you?

       Barry Stebbings

Copyright © Barry Stebbings | Year Posted 2018

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rain-clouds hide the sun - -
vicars splash the pope and run
on to kiss a nun

written 16th September for Nina's Mischief contest 
rhyming haiku

Copyright © jack horne | Year Posted 2018

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Sea Shell

I am a sea shell
exotic and rare
delicate, luminescent
beyond compare

I once was a home
for a creature so tiny
who hid in my depths
protecting her hiney

For she was so lovely
she gleamed and she shined
that she would've been eaten
in that tasty sea brine 

But I gave her long life
in my hard purple shell
no one knew she was there
(or they couldn't quite tell)

And I loved her so much
that I named her Ariadne
and fed her tiny bits
of juicy sea debris

'Though she died long ago
and no longer is here
you can still hear her spirit
if you hold me to your ear

Copyright © Rhona McFerran | Year Posted 2018

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I “met a four”
when I was three
and oh the things
it did to me
and fingers counting
one-two- three.
When the four
brought in a five
all my counting fingers
came alive.
Reaching for the
other hand
said “times two”
is oh so grand.
They ran through
six, then seven – eight
danced with the nine
to celebrate.
Then the quantum leap
to ten
and shouts of 
let’s do it again.
Somehow the
ones and two and threes
increase in size
Still, my fingers are
mathematically smitten
seeking warmth
within a mitten.

John G. Lawless

Copyright © John lawless | Year Posted 2014

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By morning wake
When the light in my face
I'm reminded of your disgrace!

How can I do this to myself?
How do I wish Calgon would take me away?
Will I ever wake like the melody of the Blue Jay?

What am I suppose to do?
Shut myself down from this misery?
Emotionless, because I am too weak to be strong

It's my fault for inviting
-he that dropped my heart from cloud nine
Well, I have nothing else to say.
Except, "life has no meaning, and here I am GONE!"


Copyright © SKAT A | Year Posted 2010

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Just doesn't add up

Pythagoras once fell off a ladder
And landed on a venomous adder
This adder couldn't add
Calculus made it sad
Algebra and theorems made it madder.

Copyright © Nandita Das | Year Posted 2015

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Concerning Math and How To Say It

The British call it maths,
but the Americans ditch the s
causing much international scorn.
But for our sake, p'raps it'd be best
to keep subjects
only halfway grasped
in the singular form.

Copyright © Timothy Hicks | Year Posted 2016

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Golden Dreams

The Leprechaun.

Run, run, run as fast as you can...
I'm still gonna get you, my little green man...
I grabbed on to the gold buckle on his waist...
I held him down, with no time to waste...
I tied The Leprechaun to a hollow tree,
Broke off a branch and poked him on the knees.
I kept on poking him with a stick.
I kept nagging him to reveal his magic trick.

This little shamrock kid would not break.
He kept insisting THE LEPRECHAUN legend was fake.

This little odd dwarf kept lying about his mythical pot of gold. 
I kept repeating all the stories I've been told..  
Nagging him and nagging him~ FOR HIS POT OF GOLD!
He lied, about the fables, telling me his gold does not exist...
The Leprechaun refused to hear the clover list...


It's been 7 days!
And, still he won't give up, what's at the end of the rainbow. 
Tickling his little Eskimo toes,
Running feathers underneath his nose. 
"Look you little green treasure troll, I've captured you, and demand the gold!"
"You won't get me with your tricks!"
"So don't even try to outwit me with your silly MAGIC!" 

I suppose his silver-tongue, will have to do,
And the little gold buckles on his shoe.
I got tired of trying to make him see, my point of view.
I got a better deal and trade for a monkey at the zoo.
Now the lions are enjoying a Pot of Leprechaun Stew. 
After All! 
Nothing I did, made him unfold.
All I wanted was his pot of gold!


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2012

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*****To the naked EYE, this poem may seem like gibberish,
but I assure you it is loaded with 24 palindromes,
3 palindrome phrases, 1 hidden palindrome phrase,
and is chock full with enormous wordplay...
oh and one more palindrome in this description. 
Can you find more? I challenge you word freaks!*****


Last night, around eleven or so, I decided to paint a pink castle.
To my dismay, on display, is what looks more like a pink *******.
Picasso would've been so proud!
Today, upon recording nothing short of a colossal debacle,
I've chosen to
utilize the eyes of a hostile apostle.
Tossing docile scribble, I'm scribing.
Describing life like a diatribe conniving REVIVER at a revival.


Palindrome EYE to the side of my tribe.
Get in line, standing at the hands of HANNA.





We OTTO-matically 
DAD got so damn mad he DID the DEED
and split three XANAX with his MADAM and MOM!
(ALA the ABBA GIG way back in them AHA kookie KOOK days)

So anyways...
Back to peek hassle!
Do ya' think he might like ta' take a stab at my STATS?

*****(this was fun as fun can be:
hope you have half as much fun with it as I did:)*****


Copyright © JSLambert Mister ROBOTO | Year Posted 2014

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I have a fat and furry friend
All pink and spotty black.
I grew him from some Camembert-
The smelly little Rat!

He is my very Mouse-Pig
For that’s his very name, 
Sometimes I call him Roger 
Just like his steptwin Shane. 

I like to give him all I can
Though humble poor are we.
I gave him a good character- 
2 slices for his tea. 

I love my little Mouse-Pig 
I love him like a pet. 
Sometimes I take him out for walks 
And sometimes to the vet.

I dare not let him venture far 
For fear he won’t come back. 
Last week he almost wandered off 
Without his packymac. 

‘You’ll catch your death- or even worse!’ 
I warned in worried tone. 
‘There’s things out there what likes to eat 
A Mouse-Pig far from home. 

‘Don’t worry Dad,’ he answered back 
In usual piggy chatter. 
‘If anyone should have a go 
I’ll cover them in batter!’ 

Then all at once, without a sound 
He sang with all his might. 
I’ve never heard a Mouse-Pig 
I said in wondrous sight.

‘That’s nothing Pa,’ he mouthed in tune, 
And leaping to his trotters
Declared as he flew flying off-
I’ll show those dirty rotters!’

‘Farewell my fat and furry friend,’
I bellied to the sky,
And turning one last time he squeaked,
‘I’m off to find my sty.’

And then he flew right out of sight, 
As far as I could see, 
And with a little shedding tear 
I went in for my tea. 

Copyright © Wayne Riley | Year Posted 2014

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I Have a Love Affair With Parenthesis

(don't tell anyone)

Copyright © Timothy Hicks | Year Posted 2016

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No Sleep

A tired young man with no sleep
Heard it would help to count sheep
Made his way up to ten
But got scared by a hen
And the big stick of Little Bo Peep

Copyright © Tim Smith | Year Posted 2015

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I came Across A Jumpher

I came across a Jumpher
A jumphin’ up at me.
It wasn’t very springy
As far as i could see.

It tried to do someothersault,
Impressing like a tree,
But landed with a thumping thud
And hurt his only knee.

‘How come you like to ravel so?’
I bellied like a navel,
While on the other hand i plied
Some custard on a table.

‘I’m only giving all I’ve got-
A hundred miles an hour.
But if you take it at a trot
It soaks you with a shower.

‘I see,’ i said, came out my head,
And nodding fully clothed,
I asked if he’d seen Ninnynook?
A nose that knows no prose.

‘I likes to smell his gravy soup.’
He jumphered like a sweater,
Then driving like a five wheeled horse
Left home wrapped in a letter.

‘Good luck, you leaphing lunging loon.’
I mouthed in Granny’s gums
Then smiling like a holiday
I went to see my chums.

Copyright © Wayne Riley | Year Posted 2014

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My Fears

Claustrophobia no,not afraid of close quarters
Love sharks and crocks and all in the waters
There's one thing I fear
So listen up here
Hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia non-supporters

*****Hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia is the fear of big words****

Copyright © Tim Smith | Year Posted 2015

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Stuck on You

I used to be free
Acrobatics in the air
I would soar with flair
From here to way over there
Fly away
Into my dreams
Free as the air that brushes by me
Anywhere I could be
Whatever tickles my fancy
I could be the fly on the wall
Or the annoying one
Tickling life and all of you
Laughing as I fly so free
Oh how I could dance in the skies
Landing on buffets to delight my eyes
Feasting on gourmet of french cuisine
Life so joyous from high in the skies

So one day my life came crashing down
You imprisoned me to the flyers pound
I could not escape you have me well bound
Now I struggle my life is on ground
No more flying, no more freedom
I am now all tied up and
Stuck on you
To my death I will hate this fate
Regretting the day you and I made that date
Landing on you was death in black
You are the one to steal my last breath
You are……..
I, the Fly

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2015