Life Humorous Poems | Examples
These Life Humorous poems are examples of Humorous poems about Life. These are the best examples of Humorous Life poems written by international poets.
Sybil Fawlty is Basil`s long-suffering wife,
becomes dazed and confused when he gets in all sorts of strife,
so when one of Basil `s hair brained schemes goes wrong,
it's Sybil who fixes, because she is the calm and sane one.
since Basil is such an horrible host
it is poor old Sybil, who suffers the most,
sardonic words she would inject,
on the man, she calls a stick insect
one day when she was away,
German guests, Basil caused such an affray,
and when one of the guests in the night, dies,
it was Sybil who had to fix all of Basil`s lies.
at the infamous Torquey hotel called Fawlty Towers,
Sybils and Basils life, the chaos simply devours
to the residents of the hotel who reside,
it`s Sybil who has to make good, whenever Basil is snide.
Oh, for a while it’s been crazy inside
the beltway,
no telling what insanity arises each day,
with a seemingly psychologically challenged
Prez,
for crying out loud listen to some of the
gibberish he sez!
He cares nothing for the environment,
he takes a wrecking ball to it, I’m spent.
Grocery prices can’t go down,
with our poor Earth’s global warming,
you clown.
Hey, the shutdown is hurting many
Including veteran troops,
as government workers are your target
you nincompoop.
We need to find migrant children who
disappeared,
not you worrying about suspending
late night hosts you jeered.
What’s with the bizarre hairdo,
and the orange makeup that looks
like you’re a new species in the zoo.
It’s crazy inside the beltway,
can we as a country find coherent
and thoughtful candidates, not goofs,
instead of a real life Mad magazine spoof. ~
I forgot what I forgotten
and I knew what I know
Life is always choices
so I am told.
If empty calories don't fill you up
why do I have a wide butt?
Your belly swells jolly
chin doubles up
and disposition is sweet
loving peanut butter cups.
Sodas are fountain
of sparkling fizzy joy
candies gorge a mountain
fantasy of every girl and boy.
All sweets any flavor
never get enough
Taste of sugar goodness
now that is the stuff
Juices overflow
into my giant mug
honey is a miracle
made by flying bugs.
Get a sugar high
jittery running around
Than fast asleep you crashed
lying on the ground.
Happy Halloween of long ago
when receiving free candies overflowed
Say Trick or Treat in scary costumes or cute
mountain of candy you earn childhood loot.
LIFE IN ACORNISTAN
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There once was a brown-haired squirrel named Stan,
the charismatic, electrifying mayor of Acornistan.
His fur held a most strange zap
“We’ve got to do something ASAP!”
His advisor suggested, “Call in the g-man.”
They summoned a blind man from Bhutan
‘You’re fur’s gotta go,’ he said, his face deadpan.
‘But like Samson, I’ll lose my power
To this static I shall never cower!
You’ve got to have another gameplan.”
‘Maybe some crème rinse or a bit of Dippity-Do*
will eliminate the static from your furry ‘do.’
‘Dippity Do,’ Stan exclaimed. “Just who are you?
Go back to Bhutan, you silly man. Shoo! Shoo!’
‘Stan decreed. ‘No static in Acornistan. Static adieu, adieu!’
FLYING SQUIRREL
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Seth the squirrel was tired of leaping from tree to tree.
“My commute’s horrible! Got ta be a better way for me.”
Scampered to the toy store, bought toy bike from pal, Mike
Attached some balsa wood using Gorilla Glue. Wah la! He was birdlike.
Next day from hustle and bustle of commuter traffic, he happily did flee.
Unbeknownst to Seth, flying squirrels in open airspace don’t mix,
Ostracized Seth was—not a member of the flyer’s club, a squirrelish clique.
One day was almost hit by specially designed spy drones
‘twas Putin’s, for their black flags bore a skull and crossbones.
Fearing for his life, Seth sold his plane-bike on eBay, his flying days nixed.
LIVING IN TEXAS
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In Texas, where cowboys roam free,
we’re born with big hearts, you see.
With BBQ extraordinair
and boots beyond compare,
We’re proud of our roots, yippee-ki-yay, whee!
With chili quite spicy and bold,
and tales of the wild west retold,
I’ll spin you a yarn,
'Neath the Texas dawn,
For this native blood never grows cold!
From Amarillo to San Antone,
I shout, “Yeehaw!” in a twang all my own.
with chili so hot,
and a big ol’ pot,
of sweet tea that chills to the bone.
The Texas armadillos all cheer,
for the BBQ smoke draws them near.
With ribs piled knee high,
they simply cannot deny,
Life in Texas is the best—let’s be clear!
BIG TEX*
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There once was a cowboy named Big Tex.
was huge like Tyrannosaurus Rex!
His hat large like Texas barn,
he strutted ‘round town with charm
But his love life was a complete wreck.
Big Tex hung out at Texas’ State Fair,
Wore humongous boots and jeans with flair.
with deep voice, wink, and a grin,
He says, “Y’all come on in!”
Look! 'Tex' has buckshot in his derrière!
With lasso in hand, he aims to impress,
missed every steer, what a terrible mess!
He'd shout, "Yippee-ki-yay!"
in a most clumsy way,
And the longhorn would just laugh, no less!
With a chuckle, he dusts off his hat,
“Guess I’ll stick to the dance and the chat!”
So he twirls 'round the barn,
With a laugh and Texas yarn,
The best cowboy—now how 'bout that?
Go Tex! Go!
*Note: This poem was the first place winner in the 2025 Texas Limerick contest. This is my original poem
Copying the success tale of myth
He moved ahead to the orphan green
A vast forest of fast opportunity
Display was of lovely frames
A sound of track with hustling cracks
He relied on relief of hacks
A cozy kinder of lightning trail
He chose one precious gift alright!
The talks begin to amplify
The words became the works over night
A close choice of heartly fellow
Sincere attack of pain and sorrow
It's the might of the fairy forest
He decided a lack of theory worlds
The maniac he was, he survived
Avalanche of hypnotizing eye
Restless body still moves freely
A part of him stays in the forest
Witty words keep me sane
A giggle eases, life’s pain
When times are trying
Laugh through the rain
Reroute the grooves
Soften the grain
With faces stiff
A snooty drift
Good humor sees
Life is a gift
Minus a grin
Hard work won’t win
May spot the crowd
But won’t fit in
So when you choose
Smile over frown
You’ll lift the blues
A joyful sound
It's time to watch a movie!
I'll just take a peek at "Prime."
I hope the flick is groovy,
Cuz I watch them all the time!
It's time for intermission,
I'll stretch and flex my flannel.
Silly Ads fog my vision,
Time to search another channel!
Tweety`s cage was his life saver
as Sylvester wanted him for his flavour
but when granny`s back was turned
`twas time for Tweety, to become concerned
My right ear quit growing
The left one only grew
That night without knowing
My Bro's quit growing too
Father found life boring
He left when we were two
Still we hear him snoring
If Mother only knew
PETE THE PERCUSSIONIST
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There once was a drummer named Pete,
whose rhythm was funky and sweet.
He dreamed of the stage,
a rock star despite his age.
His sticks, though, were clumsier than his feet.
He practiced with pots and with pans,
in hopes of a life with great bands.
With a crash and a boom,
he shook up the room,
Wishing for a gazillion and one fans.
He donned leather pants, shiny and tight,
and shouted, "Tonight, I’ll be outta sight!"
But when he would play,
the crowd ran away,
He understood ‘twas rock star’s plight.
Poem submitted to "AI: Panacea or Pain" Poetry Contest, Simon Rogerson, sponsor.
*SERENGETI BETTI
Many limerick poems offer a humorous view into an aspect of life and existence, and because of this, they have become a favorite of mine. This poem attempts to poke fun at the use of AI in creating poetry.
There once was beautiful bot named Betti.
Her poems were colorful confetti.
She wrote with such ease and grace,
Outstepping even muse's pace.
She must've come from the Serengeti!
With algorithms sharp and keen,
she was known as the "Poet Queen."
She had a will of her own.
Humans said of her, "Dethrone!”
“We must her spirit tame and stean.”
"Curses!" they said of the "Poet Queen."
"Her power to create we musn't glean."
"Seek not this bot so bright,
and let not her words take flight.”
Threw her in poetic river, serene.
*Note: I published this poem in June 2025 at Poetry Soup (www.poetrysoup.com › serengeti_betti_1738597) but then deleted it. This is my original poem.
Inspired by “Poems and Poets” by Anne Winter
“For once in my life,
I want to be a poem” — Anne Winter
If I were a poem
could my poem be a poet?
If such could be done
who besides me would know it?
If my poem—as a poet—wrote something new
could I as a poem be the other poem too?
Or would I simply exist on a document list
along with other poems that coexist?
(As a poem I would be …)
Living on the edge of poetry forms’ parameters
Running ever changing rapids of trochees and iambs
Line dancing varied rhythms of iambic pentameters
da DUM da DUM da DUM da DUM da DUM ad infinitum
Dancing two-step footles with the poem of my dreams
Braving slalom ski runs of Klein’s Vase Verse
Climbing lofty peaks of Heroic Crown of Crowns
Then doing it all over again in reverse
(I do have a poetic license you know …)
I think of such thoughts from time to time
when my muse is confused and obtuse
Especially when finding it hard to rhyme
my head flooded with thoughts most abstruse
What would it take for me to be a poem
vice versa my poem to be poet?
The very next time my muse starts to roam
I’ll try to find out—don’t you know it!