Rhyme Humorous Poems | Examples
These Rhyme Humorous poems are examples of Humorous poems about Rhyme. These are the best examples of Humorous Rhyme poems written by international poets.
The Bermuda Triangle, does it still exist?
For a long time there has been no mention
No airplanes vanish, nor ships and boats missed
What’s happened to famed fifth dimension?
I read about time tunnels, unquiet zones
Toxic vapours of methane hydrate
Triangle get lost, so no happy returns
The last of great mysteries fades
Its magnetic field has been demagnetized
Or maybe the global warmth stroke
Bad seaweed has died, and the air clarified
So the danger zone evoked a joke
No one gives a damn was it fiction or truth
That old hype has veered off the track
But I'd much prefer to see this in the news:
“The Bermuda Triangle strikes back!”
The banality of evil
Could’ve been a Devil’s plan
But he never signed the deal
He’s a decent kind of man
He’s aware of dialectics
Without evil there’s no good
Both are slaughtered in eclectic
Caesar salad that he could
Purchase in the local store
For the evening meal with wine
Just the same as day before
Good and evil to confine
But the line is fast to blur
And the meaning quickly sunk
And it clearly occurs
That he’s tiddly, if not drunk.
Burly Brawn gets up at the crack of dawn
Cracks his knuckles, morning dew on the lawn
Black hair curly, so surly was Burly
Beware of which side of the street you're on
High atop his branch he clings,
a fretful, fidgety fellow~
September’s here (allegedly),
but Texas still screams yellow.
He peers down at the dusty ground,
no pumpkins, no autumnal spice, nor chill;
no brisk breeze swirling through the oaks,
just heat that just sits still.
“Oh fall, wherefore art thou?” the acorn cries,
dramatic as can be~
“I’m meant to drop with dignity,
not roast upon this tree!”
He wiggles, scoots, and shimmies,
but the branch won’t let him go.
“I’m ready for my autumn arc~
this summer’s just for show.”
So there he waits, impatient,
a tiny acorn with dramatic flair,
dreaming of the day he falls
into cool, crisp autumn air.
They couldn't count on the Count to be accountable
Because the count of his debt was insurmountable
So they took the Count to court, not much the Count could do
Bet they could count on the Count, to curse the cards he drew
Before I start this poem, I seek
To acknowledge that I sit on the land of the Wequaeesgeek
And that my laptop, at which I peer through thick glasses
drowns islands in the Pacific with greenhouse gases.
I know life has always given me the edge
Due to my Jewish Ashkenazi privilege.
And being male I'm in the patriarchy
At the top of the oppressive hierarchy.
I apologize for my pronoun being 'he'
At least it could have been 'they' or 'we'.
I apologize that all these apologies are fake
And for the real apologies that I didn't make.
Now back to my poem, it occurred at night
I can't let that idea fade, take flight
I didn't have a pen; I should have written it quick
I've lost the thread and now I feel sick.
When the toilet paper roll
is almost empty,
it may cause panic,
but only temporarily!
You just have to make sure
a full roll is close by,
for if not, there may be no one
to hear your anguished cry!
In my parents' house, the extra bumwad
was in a closet,
but not in the loo;
a circumstance that should have been outlawed,
for what was a child to do
with the poo
that was still stuck on his smelly backside?
Some ingenuity must be applied!
Well, the toilet paper roll is paper too!
Unroll it, smooth it out. That oughta do!
I WANT
I want to lose my breath when first we meet.
I want to behold my heart skip a beat.
I want to fall like I've not fallen yet.
I want to love once without a regret.
I want to laugh a laugh only we laugh.
I want to change my mind on your behalf.
I want to trust you without any doubt.
I want to adore you inside and out.
I want to feel when you've entered the room.
I want to sense the scent of your perfume.
I want to see that smile that's mine alone.
I want to chisel our love into stone.
I want to be your past, present, and hense.
I want to know you in the biblical sense.
I want to listen when your soul speaks to mine.
I want to dance with you, step out of time.
I want to feast upon this list and then,
I want to do them all over again.
An erotic stanza
with a sensual bonanza...
stronger than liquor
when the last line's a kicker...
hotter than vice
while brief and concise...
coming from all nations,
each with their variations
of ribald situations...
they're even kinda "juicy" -
with more info than a blue movie!
A billionaire died
after swallowing a bee.
I'm glad it wasn't you,
I'm glad it wasn't me.
“Tim~s lik~ this, mak~ m~ want to y~lp. H~y, y’all, I n~~d som~ h~lp!” –The Po~t
I totally forgot som~thing
Oh, what can it b~?
I can’t s~~m to r~m~mb~r
Oh, wo~ is m~
I’d lik~ to compl~t~ th~ chall~ng~
But I can’t r~m~mb~r how
Is th~r~ no on~ who can guid~ m~?
Pr~tty pl~as~, r~spond now!
“It surely takes a grievous toll
Near the end of snow-white roll” (by author)
My lifespan by default, bawdily brief,
Sadly signifies excremental grief.
From pristine white to shady hues of brown,
Crumpled or creased, crudely disposed aground.
Paradox: I’m the most needed token -
Yet most disrespected, tissue-broken.
It could be smelly feet but no, alas!
It has to be the dark side of an ass.
I don’t intend to make you humans blush,
But you waste me on your waste in a flush.
Thus my life on a roll, floating in vain,
Down the drain, down the drain, down the drain!
August 14, 2026
Darn kids arrive and turn lives upside down,
Doted and loved and they don’t have a clue,
That parents haven’t a way around it -
But unconditionally, through and through.
For starters we’re awake from sleepless nights,
Then toddlers’ tantrums test our calm and cool.
And folks, please note, we’re stripped of spanking rights
As soon as darn kids start going to school.
Darn kids grow up and out of childhood bliss,
Some move away or in, if basement’s spare.
Now sleepless nights are somehow dearly missed,
It’s daily worries parents have to bear.
Based on facts darn kids don’t make exceptions,
‘Who is loved more’ stems from misconceptions.
None is perfect thus no one is to blame -
We’re hardwired to love them all the same.
You say you are my foe
But you're not, no you're not
You're only a faux foe
With your face slimed with snot.
The goo from eating a chocolate or two.
Pizza spread with cheese and bread.
A popsicle colored red and blue.
Mixed with dirt and wiped down the sides of my pants.
Without another glance.
Momma said," don't wipe your hands on your clothes.
Wash them off in the sink.
Otherwise, your clothes will stink!"
Took off my pants.
Washed them with soap.
Left them in the sink.
"Oh no you don't!" Momma said.
"Wash your hands, not your pants!"
You could have been clearer.
So, I washed my hands.
Pulled my pants out of the sink.
Put my pants back on.
Went out to play.
My friends and I are making mud pies today!