Funnyred Poems | Examples


Premium Member Rock-Paper-Scissors

ROCK-PAPER-SCISSORS
                     •	



on scorching sun with scissors of red ray
kids waded paper boats down winding bay
     huge rock slammed their course
      sails flat, with full force!
so rock/paper/scissors bets winged a tricky play
                               •	
  
although the rushed pace was like wrestling
and left their fists flushed red and sweating,
     best of  four rounds caused seizures
     playmates hid crazed wrist fissures
hours after, hungry tummies stopped pretending





P.D’s Rock/ Paper/ Scissors
By nette onclaud
Form: Limerick

Can-Can

Superb Moulanic entertainment
Rouge by colour a red the colour of lust

Perhaps vermillion crimson or scarlet 
Not quite a Cardinal red - Oh no!

A bawdy well loved old dance
High kicking girls a screaming yelp

Energetic and flying jumping splits
A view quite pleasant of split crotch knickers


Red Headed Stepchild

I beat her like a
   red headed stepchild because
      That is what she is...


*JOKE- I don't beat her,
but I do have a red headed
stepchild.  :)
Form: Senryu

Premium Member "a Tale Multicolored"

In a box of color crayons
I would be the color called red
Favorite of child's fairy wands
With a very sharp pencil head


Surely would be very worse dread
If to a stove of fire kid sped
Melting off the red my fine head
As to the fire my head was fed

My very fine texture would glow
The child's parents would surely know
My red blood would begin to flow
Paddle's appease to seat would go

Not yet Leonardo Da Vinci
An artist of portrait display 
Child sit in corner on benches
Smell very well would give him away 

No effort of the Da Vinci
Broke a smile of the century  
Mona the Lisa smile so mild
Would agape at this mischief child

So very sad my red's been bled
And my pencil head has been fed
By mischief of a kid who sped
Fulfilling my very worse dread 

Now my box of fairy crayons
I hope has not caused a big yawn
As hope is that you've grown quite fond
Of my tale of fairy's red wand
 
4-4-10
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member "bravo Brock"

Into the midst of the hen flock 
Brock my brown leghorn flying cock
Mediterranean breading stock
Flew off the roost to dock

When  barnbyard dust settled you see
Hens begin cackling with glee
As soon as was able to see
That rooster was handsomely he

As marsupial much alarmed
As brown leghorn spurs fully armed
Being exposed to the great charmed
The hens flapped their wings thus informed

Opossum tucked babes in her pouch
Her most inner juvenile  couch 
Plain to see that my Brock’s no slouch
Awesome spurs would surely mean ouch!!

Legitimately now has he 
A very large harem you see
There are many chick yet to be
As shall many opossums flee

Many red tail hawks on the wind
But my red rooster will defend
His harem band of lady friends
Every day again and again

At danger he will never baulk
`Tis cackle, cackle, cackle, squawk 
`Tis the brown leghorn rooster talk
Cock of the squawk barnyard boardwalk

3-3-2010
Form: Monorhyme


The Talk of the Monsters Ball

I went to the Monsters Ball.
I must have been 7 feet tall.
I was wearing stilettos so steep.
They were really hurting my feet.

You will never guess what I wore.
And not to tell it I always swore.
But I guess I'll have to confess.
Someone saw me and now it's a mess.

I was wearing a red sheer gown.
And the top was halfway down.
Red sheer hose covered my legs.
Held up by red garters like pegs.

It was a monstrous sight.
If you'd been there that night.
Like the person who saw.
Writing poems in the raw.

His name I will not disclose.
But I visited him on tippy toes.
He wore Tag body spray, I could tell.
Writing poetry as funny as............

Well...I guess I'd better end here.
Or I might get beat in the rear.

Life In the South

Ya'll want to com'fer supper?
Yep we's having greens, fat back,
tators, chitlins, peppa sauce, 
pickled peaches and cairn
muffins. I seez ya when ya gets he-a.
Bye now ya he-a.
Tell ya maw Iz said hey.
Chil'in don't gets ya britches durty in the red clay.
Com' a runnin when comp'ny gets hea, chillins
and warsh tha grit of ya, 'fore I dust your britches good.


By Dars Ann
submitted in the dialect contest
dialect of the southern states, USA
I grew up in Georgia and we have red clay,
tall short leaf pines, great oaks and plenty of old knotty pine barns in the landscapes.

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