Best Potty Trained Poems


Premium Member Brother For Sale

Brother for sale.
I'll deliver him too.
I can send in the mail,
Wrapped in yellow or blue.

He's water potty-trained now,
But that can change in a day.
He'll be bundled with Oreos,
So he can eat on the way.

I can mail him by truck, car, or plane.
He's coming with stuff, his favorite toy train.
He's coming character-recommended, highly by me.
He's a pretty good brother, who is almost three.

We need him back when you get him trained.
We simply cannot seem to get through to his little brain.
That when he has to poop, hiding is no good.
Please train him to use the potty with solids, if you could.

Then send him back, to his crazy, loving home.
And this shall be the end of this tiny poem.

Premium Member The Snuffaluffagus

The Snuffaluffagus may be
The only pet for me
The only pet that I can get
Because the cost is free

I have a neighbor down the street
His name is Guffalus
He needs to give his pet away
His Snuffaluffagus

A Snuffaluffagus, you see
Is rather big to move
He likes to play my clarinet
And stay within a groove

He likes to talk about the things
That interest both of us
I’m grateful for the chance to own
A Snuffaluffagus

When Guffalus was out of town
I watched him for a week
We played the game of tag, you’re it
And lots of hide and seek

I dressed him in my father’s clothes
Until my dad complained
A Snuffaluffagus, you see
Is poorly potty trained

I’m glad that Snuffaluffagus
Is happy in his way
To sleep with me in my bedroom
And join me when I pray

I’m hoping mom and dad will see
The value of a pet
The Snuffaluffagus may be
Their best decision yet

To have a pet you really love
Is really quite a plus
That's why I recommend to you
A Snuffaluffagus.

Premium Member Porker The Stalker

I have a porker as a stalker; it keeps following me down the street
I cannot talk to my friends, as it keeps oinking when I try to speak

Doesn’t it have an owner it can go home to, and as leave me alone
Once; I tried to lock it out, but, all it did on me is squeal and moan

And, its weird habit of wearing a tutu and doing its pot belly dance
If it had been potty trained, life would have been sweet, no chance

I had enough of her nicking my bed once she farted I disowned her
I stuck posters up with a photo to see if I could find her true owner

3 months later, and still no reply I started to think along other lines
So I put her on the cover of magazines dressing her up to the nines

It wasn’t long before Porker the stalker, had become a renown star
Now; Porker the stalker owns her own limo, with its own liquor bar

Are you still sticking with it here as the tale gets even more bizarre
She met a prize pig up Ohio who played guitar and was a superstar

It wasn’t long before they got wedded, and had piglets by the score
Where; at long last, Porker the stalker, was not my stalker anymore


Premium Member My Big Boy Pants

“My Big Boy Pants”

I got them after I was potty trained,
capable of taking care of my business.

I have been told on many occasions to
“Put on your Big Boy Pants and deal with it!”

Slowly figured out what “pants”
had to do with figuring things out.

Like – you can’t ask for help
if you don’t know what you need help with.

These “Big Boy Pants” grew with me
challenged my comfort zone mentality

instilled confidence and self esteem
based on the reality of failure’s successes.

I am a man now yet still cherish
the  “Big Boy Pants” approach

realizing now that the magic
was not in the pants,

but in the attitude,
the diligence, perseverance,

tenacity, dedication and love
of those who told me

“Put on your Big Boy Pants and deal with it!”


John G. Lawless
12/2/2015

Premium Member Lifeline

Line after line of fresh diapers
A daily chore for years
Clotheslines held six dozen each day
Unless weather unclear

Two little ones not potty trained
Now grown and on their own
They hold up a lifeline of love
Since the soft nest they've flown 

Sponsor: Nette Onclaud
Contest: Let Me Feel Your Lines
# 3. Clothesline
Written by: Sara Kendrick
March 30, 2015

Premium Member I Just Can Not Win

There was a day, oh so clear… I took my newly trained dog for a walk.
Just as I left the house… a rabbit came by, and yes, we were off.
My dog took off quite fast… as he ran the rabbit under a car.
Yep, you guessed… I just can’t win… but I’m still alive, so far…

Then a squirrel crossed the street… for in a tree, to hide.
Clearly we had to follow… as cars swerved to miss us in their ride
I was very grateful that day… to find every thing still intact.
Yep, you guessed… I just can’t win…as a friend, helped us from a limb, well cracked.

Next the mailman rounded the bend… in his small-motorized truck
I sure am glad he got away… but again, me… not so much.
I can attest to my dog’s health… As we ran a mile in record time…
Yep, you guessed… I just can’t win… as a fire truck came roaring by.

Now don’t you worry so very much… we survived, yet, again?
And as all settled down, I was so glad… till the rain came rumbling in.
Since lightening and thunder scare him so… we made it home, in record time.
Yep, you guessed… I just can’t win… as from under the door I climbed.

The dinner table had been set… as I hurried from the door.
Dinner will be late; I have to explain… as I now cleared it from the floor.
A walk always develops an appetite… I mused, as I began to explain doggy house laws.
Yep, you guessed it… I just can’t win…  as the turkey lay between his paws.

The trainer assured me my dog’s well trained… though with a small attention span
Training’s gone well, he said, again… though he looked like a crazed stuntman.
Yep, you guessed it… He couldn’t win…as he gave me, my money back 
A little chagrinned… he sent me on my way, with several tons of luck.

There’ll probably be another moment or two… with my beloved Great Dane.
But that’s to be expected… from a 100 lb puppy that’s almost potty trained
Yep, you guessed… I just can’t win... But Don’t Worry, we’re doing well… 
OOOPS, the doorbell rang… here we go again, for another time…

But know, eventually he will grow up… and by then we’ll be just fine…


My Teenage Son Isn'T Potty Trained

I'm going to tell you something and I'll be quite plain.
I have a fifteen year old son who couldn't be potty trained.
I tried to potty train him but I wasn't able to succeed.
He still wears diapers because they're what he needs.
The kids make fun of him when he takes showers at school.
They laugh when they see his diapers, my son truly is a fool.
He's not even smart enough to change his diapers, his gym teacher and I have to do it.
Using protection on the night when he was conceived would've been wise but I blew it.
The situation is so embarrassing, what am I going to do?
I really hope and pray that other people aren't in my shoes.

I'Ve Had Enough

I think I'll signal guru Bob that I've had enough
of his implicit stress therapy as he calls it
I've contacted the hunchback sperm banks
for a safe deposit box until the embrace is ended
with the last flood of disobdience
guru Bob waves his stumps
and I go nuts trying to figure out
the message behind the message
which was whatever happens
keep this out of the tabloids
I threw the Studebaker into reverse
and flamed the tires
in order to stop the madness
of hope divided by zero
as the horizon failed to recede
or vice versa being we were in reverse
years from now miners will
stumble upon these passages
and be unsure if this is the he or
the he behind the he somewhat
unable to repair the scrap heap damage
after having been repeatedly potty trained
by wrecking yard executives with cutting torches 
fat as spring worms free like sniffing hyenas
fortunately sugar appears to be universally pleasing
have we gotten to the topology segment
what's wrong with a philosophy of surface
what's your sign
delusion A against delusion B 
a cosmic food chain of ransoming angels
I'm just trying to avoid
the hell words like cooked and eaten
cooking with Rosetta Stone
eating with zealots and hangmen
in the how wide can you talk contest
where the taboo behind the taboo
reverses us to black plague status
and the subsequent violet plague too
where clouds of flies lurk in church doorways
their buzzing can be infinitely instructive
even if it's the last thing you hear
with a flat rock for a pillow
curse my clumsy adolescence
rosy dawn into evening's umber


From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
Artist Portfolio: http://walteralter.byethost32.com/

I Just Drank the Last of My Billy Beer

I had bought it as a future investment
Just as I am getting ready to sell my house I have a Real Estate Agent
I begin to pack all my belongings to move in my new pad
The kids are all grown up and no longer hear them yell Hey Dad!
I am getting thirsty, let me see what I have 
Lack of water can bring cramps to your calves
I get out the Styrofoam cooler and a bag of ice cool down what I have here
A case later, a headache like an overworked waiter, I am sick to learn I just drank 
the last of my Billy Beer
So goes the investment I mentioned when I first started talking 
To the bathroom is the direction I am now walking
Is this what happens when you have too much of a good thing?
I held it until I made it to the bathroom, for I am potty trained
I guess I will move to the harsher stuff by the way of Everclear
That's what happens when you drink up all your Billy Beer
At this point, I realize I am not going to move today
The bed in the basement invites me to stay
This bed brings me such a peace of mind
When I pass out I can leave all my troubles behind
As I close my eyes, the bed begins to spin like the house in the Wizard of Oz
Then I begin to puke a solid  stream projectile that ends up on all four walls
I curse myself in the morning as I look in the mirror
I see crushed, empty cans of stale Billy Beer
It was literally flushed away after it served its purpose
I decided not to move, instead I will just abandon everything and join the circus
Maybe become a clown or a lion tamer
A trapeze artist, I know about the insurance disclaimer
The circus will be in town soon, that will bring everyone some cheer
Being how they travel around state to state maybe they can tell me where to buy 
some more Billy Beer

Premium Member Line After Line

Line after line of fresh diapers
A daily chore for years
Clothesline held six dozen each day
Unless weather unclear

If there was rain or freezing air
A wooden rack was filled
Placed over the gas floor furnace
Inside clean diapers spilled

Two little ones not potty trained
Now grown and on their own
They hold up a pipeline of love
Since the home nest have flown  

Inspired by Brian Strand's Contest
Rewritten: October 1, 2016 
Orginally written: March 30, 2015

Rug Nuggets

I spent all of yesterday
and most of the day before
picking up those rug nuggets
where they hadn’t been before.

I found one by the back door
and another by the chair
I saw some in the corner
and I see some over there.

I bend down to pick them up
until I’m nearly drained.
I surely will be happy
when this puppy’s potty trained!
© J. Summers  Create an image from this poem.

California Cows Start Passing Gas To the Grid

Another one for Andrea D.

Imagine a vast vat of liquid
Covering 5 football fields
33 feet deep in manure
Think of the energy yields

When big piles are seen
Of manure all green
Most people just see piles of crap
But if truth be told
It's a pile of pure gold
When you siphon off gasses you trap

On a dairy farm in Golden State
Experts on gas sit and wait
They push poop in a hole
Cover it like a bowl
And just let the gas ruminate

With nearly 2 million cows in this far western state
You have to admit the potential is great
Just getting these cows to be hole-potty trained
Will yield a great deal of cow-poop methane

And the methane gas gathered this way
Can be sold to the grid so they say
So the smell's not quite honey
It's the smell of good money
And we've finally made gas passing pay

So that's what this company did
With some cows and a hole with a lid
With a scoop and a scrub
And this gigantic tub
Cows are now passing gas to the Grid

Mdailey

My Comparison Poem Which

My Comparison Poem Which
(Really has become beyond compare.)

When to they subject I was more nearer
What I was seeing became more clearer
And if a telescope were fixed to my eye
Object became bigger as it did magnify.

Outside darker undoubtedly it will be
Subject searched for was difficult to see
If consistent things became to my eyes
That is when things would optimize.

Catcher caught third strike with no doubt
That is when umpire shouted YOU'RE OUT
At times, food was over-cooked and hot
Food started to burn my tongue a lot.

My poems were totally, really rotten
Were never read and forever forgotten
And after they drove President insane
In White House no longer wanted to remain.

Poor child was not properly potty trained
By urine on clothes they became stained
And when smoking too much you did try
Body was damaged and were bound to die.

How are those for some incredulous comparisons?

James Thomas Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
RiverSea Plantation
Bolivia, NC
© James Horn  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Tales My Mother Tells

(7/5 Trochee form)

“You were such a sweet smart girl,”
my mom says to me
when I ask her how I was 
in my infancy.

Then she always tells me how
early I first talked,
saying “Jesus loves me” first;
At six months I walked!

And she says another thing
making me feel good.
Always I obeyed her by
doing what I should.

Mother says I helped her teach
Jenny what to do.
Jenny was five months old when
I had turned two.

Since I’d potty trained myself
after I’d turned one,
Mom says I trained Jenny too.
Then when Jen was done. . . 

I trained Melanie, born next
after I was three,
So I guess a teacher’s what
I was meant to be!

Just one thing about me, though,
drove my parents mad.
When they put me down to sleep,
I was very bad.

Whether it was eight or nine,
even after ten,
I would yelp like some crazed pup
locked up in a  pen.

Mother hated doing it, 
but my father said,
“Let her be. Just let her scream
in her little bed.”

So they shut my door so they’d
block my screeching out.
And I must have hollered till
I wore myself out!

Once, my head got stuck between
railings of my bed.
Doc says now my neck sits wrong
underneath my head!

And I nearly lost an eye -
Fell while running ‘round.
For the doc to stitch me, four
nurses held me down.

Once while Mom learned how to park
(I was just a sprout),
sitting fiddling with the door,
somehow I fell out.

Mom backed up, then turned and saw
I was not in sight.
I was underneath a tire,
winter coat on tight!

Did my Mom exaggerate?
Doc said, “Good to go!”
Was I saved by my thick coat?
Guess I’ll never know.

These are tales my mother tells.
One thing seems my fate. . . 
Nobody can make me sleep
before very late!!!

For Catie Lindsay's 
"Baby Boo's Shoes - Quickly Contest"

Incommodious Em Bare Ass Sing Accident

While out and about
an unexpected over bare ring bout
to defecate arose,
     where sphincter asserted clout
and would excrete
     despite without doubt...

if closing distance
     (to reach rental abode)
beaten out by loosening sphincter muscle
     transmitting excretory code

set sights on prowl for outlawed, secluded,
     and wooded make shift commode
and essentially for naught negating
     toddler toilet training, sans

     getting potty trained undone
     via my tushy ready to explode
and blast immense solid waste byproduct
     (oh...close to the size of Rhode Island)

thus a marathon race against time
found immediate readiness to pull off roadside
     to access make shift water closet
     generating image firmly in pooping mode

     grabbing hold of a tree trunk
     (a mini rocky horror picture show, -
     this analogy included for no particular reason

     other than as a non-sequitur)
     and also to convey, how I tried
     to allay distractions
     while painful contractions flowed
(perhaps approximating woman

     on verge of giving birth)
but...no matter, aye could envision,
     an ever increasing heavy m*****f****** load
hence approaching Highland Manor Apartments

     this chap abandoned
     prior simultaneous evacuation plan
     starkly aware probability for secluded spot sunk
(nonetheless, thy darting darting

     anguish, futile lizard like lookout,
     a geico Gekko whose cheeks did blush
     even for a measly Georgian bush
quickened nsync with rectal spasms

     visual scouting industrialized
     where backhoes didst crush
once a time sacred happy hunting grounds
     of native Americans, now royally flush

with newly built vinyl city re: urban sprawl a gush,
where cookie cutter houses long since bringing hush
     puppies muzzled, yet never the less and mush
a doo doo about nothing) except sprint

     ting to the verizon with a void push
immortalizing indigenous tribes ghosts rush
peopling infrastructure affixing
     urbanization with lamb basted, 
     and sigh lance warrior whoosh!

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace