LAUGHING EYES
by Frank Daub
Girl with laughing eyes
beneath the slate-blue skies
and melting sun
I see the excitement of your being
Shimmer --
Reflecting youth into a gentle kind
of image
Meaningful.
The rain of April skies completes
Your soul.
When the joke's begun, it made you tense
They like poking fun, at your expense
Then laugh till they're blue, and choke on phlegm
When they laugh at you, the joke's on them
So, laugh when they laugh, it's up to you
You can gaff the gaff, they put you through
Just brush off their snide, and cold reply
When hushed deep inside, you wanna cry
Deprived by country and elsewhere
For deeds and actions I didn’t do
Suspicious here, not welcomed there
You can imagine my worldview
You’re privileged to move around
Your peaceful countries waged no wars
I’m privileged to go without
The double standard world of yours
You think of nation seeing me
Though it’s not me but your projection
You’re talking to contemptuously
I only mirror your reflection
In Wonderland founded by bandits
Stands a glass house where I live
Break it to shatters, I won’t mend it
Just bear in mind I cannot leave
By circumstances I couldn’t manage
And to be honest, no one could
I am dehumanized and savaged
And you all set and understood
I’m not complaining, but just telling
The facts of living that I find
Funny enough to rhyme, compelling
Your short attention to unwind
I am a laughing man of August
I am a crying man of March
When spring blows off the winter dust
I click some photos to enlarge.
The willow weeps for me, they say
They play that willow song
What if a willow laughs per se
And we just got it wrong
We misperceive its hanging sleeves
The rustle that we hear
Could be a joke told by the breeze
“Look at that fool, my dear”
The willow dies of laughter, though
We still believe it weeps
The other day I had a go
To listen to the leaves
But it was so serene around
That even birds didn’t sing
Two leaves were slowly spinning down
I couldn’t hear anything..
Ghostfaced and blue too
The laughing man has come too
Loaded chili fries
I woke up ready to kick butt
Despite my case of bubble guts
Anesthesia my sensitive system affected
But next to me attention was directed
A woman who was in excruciating pain
Laughed at my jokes and asked my name
I ordered the nurses to serve us champagne
To ease our anxiety over the bill we’d gain
Checked in the hospital at 845
After searching for parking is a crime
When surgery is not until 1150
Jokes on us kids and not Walt Disney
The nurses said I was in a rush to leave
A good sign they said all yellow laughing
I wanted my phone but it wasn’t at hand
So I joked poked fun a mental happy dance
As they wheeled me away to get dressed
I turned to the lady in pain less depressed
She thanked me for being me eased her mind
I hope that her pain decreased in time
So poet friends I am stuck in the house
But only for a day then I can get out
Thanks for the prayers messages and thoughts
Positive I needed and you all delivered dear hearts
I also appreciate Poetry Soup
I live to write again thanks to YOU
"A true writer must write. Ink is in their veins." By Poet
H=How do we mingle,
O=Over at your place?
W=Writing away.
T=To write a funny limerick,
O=Ode poems work for me.
M=Mingle with friends is fun,
I=In the world of words.
N=Never knowing where it will take us,
G=Going from humor to sad.
L=Laughing until we cry,
E=Editing every page.
I kicked my legs and off I went
Up into the midnight black,
The sky tilted, the trees bent
As I looked down and back
To narrowly miss the drifted stars
I quickly ducked my head ...
Out beyond lies Saturn and Mars
And my body in it's bed ...
I flipped on a windy draft
Landing on a crescent beam,
The moon and I simply laughed
About my flying in a dream.
I heard your laughter through the words you placed in the message.
E-mail Cinderella cannot imagine at these words would be inside the carriage.
I could feel and hear your sorrow.
You could feel that you were trying to get into my marrow.
I spoke to God, and to the both of us we became each other's message.
Bright sunny morning thinking weather's turning God's laughing from above
Inside the laughter, shadows creep,
Creep beneath the cheerful guise,
Guise, a mask we wear, a secret deep,
Deep as sorrow, hidden lies.
Lies that dance upon our lips,
Lips that smile yet hearts grow cold,
Cold we play part to, on borrowed trips,
Trips through moments, truth untold.
Untold are battles fought alone,
Alone, we wear our painted cheer,
Cheer a fragile heart, a whispered tone,
Tone of joy that masks the fear.
Fear not the laughter that we share,
Share the weight of wounds we hide,
Hide as this dance teaches us how to care,
Care to laugh while bleeding inside.
Poem by N. Mugisho
We want to stop laughing at you but your dumbfuggery continues to amuse us.
We want to stop laughing at you but you keep acting like a doofus.
I want to stop laughing at you but you are such a pathetic joke.
Everywhere you go people say," Now there's a jackface bloke."
We want to stop laughing at you but your behavior is ridiculous.
We want to stop laughing but your dumb antics cause such a fuss.
I wish we could stop laughing at you if I ever got the chance.
I laugh so hard at your stupidity that I almost pee my pants.
We wish we could stop laughing at you but your ignorance is iconic.
We wish we could stop laughing at you but you are just too moronic.
I wish I could stop laughing at you, but no time is ever fit.
I will never stop laughing at you, because you will always be an idiot.
Improv is an unscripted comedy form.
Starting with an idea for a sketch,
actors interact with each other,
making up things as they go.
As one person responds to another,
“No, but…” squashes spontaneity,
while “Yes, and…” builds the banter,
propelling witty action forward.
Quick and clever dialogue
promises even more to come.
Then, after finding an apt ending,
a brand-new sketch can begin.
Our lives are also unscripted.
Improvising our existence,
we react to evolving situations
with “Yes, and” for guidance.
Whenever feasible and appropriate,
say “Yes, and” to others and to life,
for enhancing enjoyment
while building community.
And even in our final moments,
we can still say “Yes, and” to death
since there is much more to come
when the new sketch begins.
(First published in Spirit Whispers: Eclectic Writings on Spirituality on Substack, 17 May 2025.)
(Image by Monica Silvestre on Pexels.com.)
he covers up the pain of his upbringing with comedy
making people laugh gives him purpose
the louder they laugh, the more he performs
He is a monster, an alien, a dog and pony show
He is a trickster, a jokester, a jester,
But wait…..
There is a side the people never see
Because he is a trickster
his feelings are his own
he keeps them hidden in the sleeves of his costume
never bringing them out
hiding them behind a super wide smirky smile
a clown….
No matter how dim things get
no matter how dire
how alone, or lonely or depressed he feels
he covers this up with cloaks and daggers
Pulling rabbits out of top hats
stunning the audience with sheer outrageousness
Keeping them laughing
so, he can cry
in silence…..
They say the willow weeps for me
They play the willow song
What if the willow laughs and we
Perceive its rustle wrong
The willow dies of laughter though
We still believe it weeps
I’ve seen two seagulls flying low
Beneath the willow’s sleeves
One of the seagulls turned its head
Another seagull grinned
The leaves were falling on my bed
Spinning in the wind.
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