Funny Growing Up Poems | Examples
These Funny Growing Up poems are examples of Growing Up poems about Funny. These are the best examples of Growing Up Funny poems written by international poets.
Child and a cupcake
Shall I take it
Quite the challenge
Looks scrumptious
When she turns, I’ll take it
Hoping she turns fast
Then it’s my turn to take it
Yayyyyy
Yummy.
I can feel my pulse in my fingertips,
like my hands are trying to escape.
Do I lean in? Do I lean back?
Please don’t let me stumble over my own feet.
My heart is doing that ridiculous thumping thing.
Why does it feel like the world is waiting?
Should I say something? Something clever?
No, just stay quiet, it’s fine.
Just breathe…oops, too noticeable.
Why is everything suddenly so tricky?
Your eyes are so close, almost too near.
Okay, maybe not, maybe it’s the perfect distance.
What if my lips are awkward? What if I taste strange?
I’m panicking, yes, in every corner of me.
I tell myself stop, act normal… but my pulse gives me away.
“Hey… is everything okay? You seem nervous.”
I nod too fast, my thoughts scattering everywhere.
I want to laugh, I want to crawl under a rock.
I feel like I might float or fall all at once.
My eyes dart everywhere, but you’re right here, holding my hand.
And then it happens, gentle, hesitant, soft.
Our lips meet, and my stomach flutters.
It’s awkward, it’s funny, it’s perfect in its messiness.
I think, maybe this is how first kisses are meant to feel.
And I secretly hope it never ends.
When dancing round your handbag on the dance floor was a thing.
When Bowie was major Tom and Elvis was king.
When your only worry was what to ware on a Friday night.
When your tops were midriff and your skirts were tight.
When you got home from the night club and fell through the door.
When you crawled up the stairs being sick on the floor.
When you climbed into bed still wearing your shoes.
The room spinning from too much booze.
Mascara running, lipstick smudged all over your face.
Hair full of sick. what a disgrace
Happy days indeed
Funny how a room dies
First it’s off to college
Then out into the world
Blink twice, there’s marriage
Into the abyss, her room’s hurled
Funny how a room dies
I believe I may be Artificially Intelligent
For many of my lessons were taught by fools
Y’know, those pencil pushing test correctors
The teachers in all the schools
They gave us tests to ascertain
The truth of what they knew
That we’d complain about a D
On assignments over due
Taught us to write sentences
A task that seemed so dire
We went to sleep wrestling with
A dangling modifier
Teachers in the science lab
Their eyes slightly askew
Kept a clear path to the door
Never knowing what we’d do
Yet as it seems with all success
Like the day I hit a homer
I got to wear a funny hat
And pick up a Diploma
Thus, when they say: “must be AI”
I flash upon the past
Knowing that the “algorithm”
Would be tossed right out of class.
My strung-out limbs grow like plants
Head in the clouds, toes with the ants
Branches sprout, leaves strewn about,
Now I’m walkin’ ‘round with an utter lack of pants
My eyes swirl like big lollipops
Cogs and wheels, they just won’t stop
Sugar melts, candy belts
Now I’m full of air like a cold can of pop
My propeller spins on my funny hat
I float away, to never come back
Heavy body, I fall out of the sky
Now I’m on the ground and I just want to cry
My skinned knees bleed through my jeans
Drawing eyes, I only displease
I stumble not walk, I struggle to talk
Now I’m nothing more than a can of dead fleas
A lovely family outing
on an apple orchard roam
It's not a place for shouting
or for staring at one's phone
The autumn breeze is blowing
and the scenery, divine
if one more text, I'm going
to just make her iPhone mine
If dearest, darling daughter
cannot put her cell away
then into the river water
it may take a dip today
My warnings are not sticking
one more selfie, we might grapple
and with all this Apple Pic’ng
she’s not picked a single apple!
why was i even born
my teachers like me
my friends like me
even think i’m funny
but my mom hates me
she hates me
she thinks i’m a burden
and that i’m a bad kid
she wishes i was never born
she never said that
she sees my face and want to hurt me
she said that
i cry myself to sleep
i don’t do anything right
i have bad skin
and a bad body
i like school
i see my friends
i do good in class
i get on the bus and i’m sad
i hate home
i walk through the door
i have something to do
i can’t relax
only time i relax is when i’m on the bus
or when i die
so why was i born
i sometimes wish i weren’t
another reason my mom hates me
i dont understand why she had me
if she only wants to hate me
she loves my older siblings
and my younger sister
so why can’t she love me
why am i so unlovable
everyone loves me
she hates me
i hate me
Mister Jack Horner’s
Shop on the corner –
His specials were cakes and pies.
While inspector was looking,
He thumbed in the cooking –
Now his shop is a Starbuck’s franchise.
Written on May 14, 2023 for the “Mother Goose Grows Up Poetry Contest”
(Growing up “Little Jack Horner”)
Here I set in a parlor reading a book,
gotta keep my face down, don't wanna look.
It's all women and girls in here except for me,
I'm waiting for my mom to get done you see.
They all keep telling me go ahead your next,
oh I feel like my world has now been hexed.
I can hear what these girls will be saying in the classroom,
tomorrow when school's goin, I'm skipping, not facing the doom!
For the now I'll set here and read a book,
back in the corner of this girl filled Parlor's nook!
Memories of childhood days long past
When summers seemed to last and last
And in those summers' days long gone
In memory the sun always shone.
And I remember now
Something quite funny;
Most of the time
We had no money.
Not yet men yet not quite boys
Past the stage of playing with toys
Long days spent on Cowden beach
Two miles away so in easy reach.
And life was a wheeze a joke a jape
As almost daily the girls changed shape,
And, one of the things I remember the most
Was Mrs 'Odsons baked beans on toast.
Many a mum was put to the test
But Mrs 'Odsons were always the best.
These days they still have
Baked beans of course
But they seem to have messed
With the sauce
And what I think
Is such a waste
They seem to have gone
And changed the taste.
Simple pleasures, simple ways
In those long past summers' days.
Poor in possessions
But rich in joys
Just a Yorkshire village's
Growing girls and boys,
And when Mrs 'Odson played the host
Yummy scrummy baked beans on toast.
Why do we call it planet earth
when water makes it blue?
Why does the sea always run away
then run right back to you?
How does a caterpillar learn to fly
with wings that are brand new?
And why do the bees go “buzz buzz buzz”
when they’ve got lots of work to do?
Why does my tummy feel kind of funny
as we drive over a road hump?
And why is my nose pointed and long
when yours is just a stump?
How many colors do we need
for a rainbow in the sky?
And do you know the speed of light
when it goes flashing by?
Copyright Suzy Davies, 2018. All Rights Reserved
A progressive mother across the street
Taught her twelve-year-old how to beat his meat
Gave him a graphic lesson,
She was proudly confessin’
In ways, I think, this mother hard to beat.
When the time comes get right down to it
Having a good poop is a fine sit
Quite relaxing, in fact,
Once you get the knack
Ten minutes is a jolly good sh*t.
A boy in Winchester rubbed it raw
I think, frankly, that practice takes some gall
As a doctor I grimaced,
This young lad was the dimmest
That day of all the young patients I saw.
Written May 22, 2022
WHY GHOST IS SINGLE (ME);
Olivia is very lazy
She's also a bit crazy,
She once sent my mom a nude with the caption "Your son loves this "
You bet it didn't go so nicely.
Cecilia is very selfish,
And she loves to fish,
Once she has eaten well,
For all, she cares you can all go to hell.
Charlotte is a whore,
She gives James, Peter, John, Andrew, and 99 more,
She's like a charity organization,
I think she loves motion.
Aria never calls me honey,
Until she sees money,
That girl must have been born near a bank,
She hates seeing her handbag blank.
Chilling with Lillian is so fun,
Until you realize she has no buns,
Her back has no form,
She looks like the other boy I saw in Trieste.
Natalie always lifts my moods,
But bro have you seen her boobs,
They look like fallen soldiers,
And the left one looks like my roommate's slippers.
Josephine is very kind,
But that woman is out of her mind,
If she thinks I'll risk being caught by her boyfriend,
Bro that guy can beat me with one hand.
Ghost passing
sordid floors
dark paths
lily scented nights
crispy country air
crackling fireplaces
shadows under the moon
sounds of the night
silence in the dark
mingling
tangoing
in perfect pitch
the harmonious beat
of intoxicating drums
the twirling dance
of dizzying
village
love