The Mosquito Squad has been zapped, swatted,
And completely obliterated.
Because they learned the hard way
That they can dish it, but they sure can't take it.
They've planned numerous strategies
And tried every trick in the book;
But everything has backfired
And their goose was already cooked.
Every summer was the same mission:
Find a sexy body and eat it.
It didn't matter if it was a booty, an arm, or a leg:
Alas, the Mosquito Squad has been defeated.
"That's the last straw!" the Squad Leader yelled,
With steam coming out of his ears.
"You've failed me one too many times!
I don't want to see your crocodile tears!
You can't even follow a direct order
And always fall flat on the floor.
Now get out of my sight, you knuckleheads!
The Mosquito Squad is no more!"
The crowd began singing
As the mosquitoes disappear in the sky,
"NA NA NA NA, NA NA NA NA,
HEY HEY HEY! GOOD-BYE!"
My poetry teacher Miss Took
read out poems out of her book
one poem was so rude
it was verging on lewd
"Thought t'was the other, I mistook"
I didn’t feel like running today
Some days I don’t—but I do.
I’ve never finished a run thinking,“I’m sorry I did that.”
I always feel empowered, powerful and ready to deal.
I have blisters on two toes but that doesn’t matter.
Pain is an administrative problem—I just wrap them
with paper surgical tape and run.
I also buy these 1" Polyurethane foam sheets (from Amazon),
that I cut to fit my feet—stuffing them in my socks for padding
—as if I were a professional athlete.
We don’t flinch beneath the heat, cold or rain,
and we don’t prevaricate or complain.
While I believe that life, otherwise, is pretty much nonstop compromise,
I reserve a protected territory for self-respect—where I practice small acts
of discipline—which I can track.
.
.
Songs for this:
Born to Run by Bruce Springsteen
Somebody's Going to Get Into This House by Jane Wiedlin
Although my poems are not so numerous
I try to make them a little humerous
I'm certainly not a bard
but I do try very hard
to mix in a bit of the ridiculous
The Gathites had heard about
King David by word of mouth
Then in song and dance
King Achish’s servants
Sang of Saul and David’s downing thousands
It was fear that King David bled
He acted the fool instead
Insane and inane he did pretend
And King Achish said
“Do I lack madmen?”
It’s All About Perspective
How would you feel,
If you went home today
To find a strange creature
Had entered your cave
While you were away?
You would you feel,
If you looked in your bed
To find sleeping there soundly
A wee human head?
Would you be angry?
Would you see red?
How would you feel,
If some golden-haired brat
Had gobbled your supper
And shattered the chair where you always sat?
What would you do?
How would you handle that?
How would you feel,
If the door to your cave
Had been kicked in by a kid
Who just could not behave?
Would you rumble and roar
Or just rant and rave?
No one would blame you,
If you got really mad
With a dimpled-faced terror who destroyed all that you had.
That’s how many would feel, but
Isn’t it sad
That no one had taught her
How not to be bad?
An atypical Carroll comic conversational satire style poesy in three voices in 40/40/28 tercet stanzas in the series of this genre to which he is identified & on which his reputation & epitaph rests
Lewis Carroll famed now for 'Alice'
a wonderland lass with no vice
Also in verse he did persist
Jabberwocky revealed him a linguist
Children's books of worldwide acclaim
Whimsical humour in nonsense rhyme
Of childhood days in summertime-
Its acrostic brought Liddel's fame,
The story ending with Alice's full name
I think the language of dating tends to be intentionally overeducated, because modern romance often requires forensic attention to fragments: eye movements, direct response or response delay and strategic silence.
The term ‘boyfriend’ is a deliberate allocation of trust.
Though we kiss for control with charming nonchalance,
it’s gritty and everyday, not decorative companionship.
He’s seen my worst screenshots
On another note..
I love staying up late at morning
I have vampire tendencies
that’s my frequency
Should I start to turn in earlier
or wait for school to begin
I’m that kind of worrier
that’s the way my world spins
.
.
A song for this:
Deny by La Sécurité
Searches are common.
God knows what they’re looking for!
Mary-Anna? (we are unisex)
£-s-d? (sorry, we’re all broke)
A sharp wit? (every one here has arrested development)
What do they search for so intimately?
They searched me today.
All they found
was this poem.
The blue waves smack the shore
Outlined by the oaken door.
Stand beside the cypress tree
Throw your arms out to the sea
On a mossy cliffside you can spy
The wheeling curlew, hear it cry.
Smell the cedar in the grove
See grass wave where rover's rove.
Hear the sea gull, feel the wild
White sails on silver, be beguiled.
So far from madness of the city
Cell phone rings, no longer free.
You run inside the cottage door
Find your backpack on the floor
Dig the phone out, as it plays
A ringtone singing "yesterday"
Its Chase bank, with a suspect charge
Ten thousand, that's awful large.
Text message comes from your landlord
Rats with fleas came in a horde
Your boss says he's needs you back soon
Work has come like a monsoon.
You leave the cottage bitterly
But you can't eat the scenery:
Can't throw the cell phone in the sea.
At least you have the memory...
Can you believe I finally made it this far?
Wanna hear my five-year-old birthday dream?
I want a grenade, a pop gun, an exploding cigar,
milk duds and a cone of chocolate ice cream.
To get to fifteen took me forever.
Now, I fall in love five times a day at a glance.
I need a birthday miracle that’s clever -
a way to get in Janet’s pants.
With work and kids, I’m up to my ears.
How did I get into trouble so deep?
All I want, as I turn thirty years,
is one night of continuous sleep.
At fifty, it has been such a long road,
and I’ve now lost a bit of my fire.
My ambitions have been somewhat slowed.
But for college tuition, I’d wish to retire.
Seventy? How the heck did it come so fast?
The things that I hope for as the sun wanes,
is that this year will not be my last,
and a moment without aches and pains.
There was this old fellow from Princeton
Whose Dodge Ram did throw a piston
With the engine bloc shot
He ran home at a trot
And switched to a Chevy in an instant
Submitted for the humorous limerick contest by
Tania Kitchin
The boy brought his crush to the dance
And prance he could not worth a dang.
He tried but he flopped
His pride dropped away.
The dance was his chance but he failed.
You no like
it's all right
Adjustment
It'll be fine
take little time
Adjustment
Not your color
we got others
Adjustment
On to tight
make it right
Adjustment
Made for you
like brand new
Adjustment
Price is good
buy you should
Adjustment
Pay cash please
change no need
Adjustment
Off we go
corner to slow
Adjustment.
A yacht would be the cherry on the daiquiri
but a tad too opulent for me
Give this admiral a sturdy old dinghy
let me row my way out to sea
A mansion with all the trimmings
six carports, servants quarters separate
Then again, with my aging Edsels
why invest now; I’m not desperate
Ah, a round-the-world cruise
just the tonic to soothe
Yet relaxing at home on my couch
I peruse the planet on TV, munch and slouch
So, just let me alone and leave me be
bathroom breaks ~ adventure enough for me
Humor Categories
Definition | What is Humor in Poetry?
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.
Related Poetry Forms
playfulness, farce, joke, banter, whimsy, gag, wit, fun, wisecrack, joking, gaiety, jest, amusement, drollery, jocosity, levity, lightness, happiness, comicality, jesting, raillery, flippancy, witticism, tomfoolery, jocularity