Long Comedienne Poems
Long Comedienne Poems. Below are the most popular long Comedienne by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Comedienne poems by poem length and keyword.
I have recognized many old ladies, but I know two of them.
They were Florence and Duno, both crackerjacks.
Their sense of humors rose in the sky and went to Jupiter.
I saw lots of old ladies with lavender hair and lavender dresses at church.
They sat with their half way hose sticking out below the knee.
It was a funny sight, but we dared not snicker.
I had no idea old ladies could be funny until I met Florence.
Which is why I gave Duno a chance. Florence was a story teller.
Duno was a comedienne. They got me over my fear of old ladies.
Now I am the old lady, sitting with burgundy hair,
Trying to not giggle at silly stuff,
But not at church.
Here are my instructions for when I leave this world to go into the “magic realm of possibilities”, the heaven on another plane. For it will be so much better, it will make this Earth life seem like the bowels of hell. Some of us are doing our best to create a heaven on earth here, but it’s still not heaven. Right?
When I pass through to my next adventure, I do not want sadness. I do not expect and will not appreciate wailing or whining. This earthly body which is worn out, and toothless does not want or need an expensive casket or a tombstone. Have you met me? Would I want you to give people a sad place to go and feel badly? Here are my specifications, short, sweet, and to be followed by whomever cares.
Laugh loud and hard, tell funny stories, pretend I was a comedienne. Be glad because I am in a very jazzy, graciously wonderful place. Dance and whirl and twirl and hum. I want you to celebrate my life with a “party.” If you make my grandchildren cry, I will hunt you down, and you will have the next party.
I want you to play my favorite songs –“99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall- all verses, and I mean it, “Puff the Magic Dragon”, and Cher’s “Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves.” If you really want to get carried away, you may play Liza Minnelli’s “Liza with a Z”. But be careful; this could easily hook you forever on her music.
If someone loves me enough to do this, please read Samuel Coleridge’s poem “Kubla Khan” at my celebration of life party. I guarantee I will be there, and I will love it! Thanks in advance.
W?rdz sp?ld k?'r?kt 'v?rs?s f?'n?t?k'sp?l??
alternately titled fun with phonics
'?lt?rn?tli 'ta?t?ld f?n w?ð 'f?n?ks
analogous when like first learning how to spell American English words
?'næl?g?s w?n la?k f?rst 'l?rn?? ha? tu sp?l ?'m?r?k?n '??gl?? w?rdz
I thought to feign not knowing how to spell American English words
A? ??t tu fe?n n?t 'no??? ha? tu sp?l ?'m?r?k?n '??gl?? w?rdz
and quickly realized the daunting task,
Ænd 'kw?kli 'ri??la?zd ð? 'd?nt?? tæsk,
thus sought magnanimity, gratuity, courtesy...
Google search (phonetic transcription of words) to assist me
Ð?s s?t magnanimity, gr?'tu?ti, 'k?rt?si..
'gug?l s?r? (f?'n?t?k ?træn'skr?p??n ?v w?rdz) tu ?'s?st mi
Words spelled correct versus phonetic spelling
(the latter appended after poem concludes).
Thus now begins feeble attempt
to render rhyme for no reason
appended with phonetic translation
mainly as playful tease zen
synonymous imagining teaching
said exercise to eager children
reminding readers that young
and restless with spotty attention
hear spoken word while in utero,
post natal, subsequently when
he/she parrots parent(s) and/or
guardian, a more deliberate yen
arises to acquire greater cognition,
intuition, question (quest ja hen)
quickly devolving into faux ken
barbed riotous laughter analogous
trying wits of patient comedian/
comedienne resorting quite often
to repetition, remonstration,
reiteration... which frustration
might necessitate taking ten,
or so minutes of intermission
mindful mentor praises pen
ultimate verbal adroit ability
earning healthy treat for recitation,
perhaps recipient exceptionally
eager to advance passing golden
milestone able, ready, and will len
to tackle writing correct spelling,
whence learning to hold pen(cil)
(without being vain) begin men
till process, which next step den
allows, enables and provides sen
sit heave hands on guidance
helping preschooler - all liven
and well with enthusiasm clutch
writing implement fingers open
before gently grasping above ren
during kudos with an amen.
Non-bachelor (batch chiller)
"FAKE" horror thriller
available Netflix starring
ghost of Phyllis Diller
stand up comedienne killer
brought down haunted house
witch sea hunt accompanied
theme song referencing Argonaut tiller
Greenwich Village location Barney Miller
lite precinct brewed fare of corpse
unearthed dead comedy duo Meara and Stiller
with surreal stalking candy corn canes
as bon appétit gnashing
gobbledygook filler.
Ice scream aghast with
blood curdling shriek,
the dearth of satisfactory
FIOS shows bleak
readying jump into polluted creek
thus, I bury alive yours truly
except his sharp pointed beak
exhuming him after rotted
flesh doth reek
perfectly tricked out
for Halloween treat
masks long haired
pencil necked geek
October thirty first when freak
alias Gadshill gadabout
poetaster doth sneak
feigning antonym anthem of meek
oh my dog, I lyft hind
uber leg to take leak
hoop fully haint nobody dares peak
urinate kidding ma bladder weak.
I long since waved
channel surfing adieu
much prefer silence
meditating under blue
skies peering into
infinite space nary a clue
intellectual conversation many disvalue
perched edge of seat and hunched over
how riveting story doth ensue
ah... time for commercial break
culinary wizard abracadabra
whips up fondue
easy as pie (are squared)
with consistency of glue
methinks Elmer stole patent,
cuz secret formula Hebrew
what with identical hue
as aforementioned adhesive liquid
doubling up to keep igloo
air tight even against
global warming, anyway would Jew...
aye betcha already knew
yes believe Yahweh endowed Semites
like me with high ike kue
of course after dumping
a load (reed) I feel sue
per ream intelligence dumbed down
(mine), especially after using loo
naturally decrease smarts
stings like poisonous
scorpion size of Eee moue,
which aforementioned papa's
poetic poppycock nonissue
saturating plethora home entertainment
most people overvalue
linkedin - shoot all stemming from
"idiot box" I rarely view.
A sweet poetess, most worth reading!
Not only prolific, but in her heart-moving words, terrific.
She waltzes far above professorial,impressive words,
Expresses herself above overdone imagery, that is absurd.
Does not try to be a poetic comedienne!
But pours her soul’s stars out, as softly as she can.
A great poetess, I am happy to say.
As sure as the sun rises, she lifts my soul each day.
How I admire her tender, genuine humility!
A woman who was raised with utter gentility.
Eve enjoys humanity, it’s so wonderfully obvious.
Roses to you, Eve~ we find you, a poetess, glorious!
With love and respect, Panagiota
7-6-2022
~1~
.
The Vacation
A couple had read in a glossy magazine that
Norway was beautiful, so they went on a week's vacation
They were met by an agent who told them how
Beautiful, his country was, said without the slightest hint
of irony; since an airport is an airport, they didn't see
the fabulous beauty
The couple saw the deep fiords, the mountains, and not
to forget, the pulpit, a rock sticking from the berg side
looking like a pulpit
Later that evening, they went to a comedy show, where
A Norwegian comedienne told jokes in English, but lacked
In nuances and hints, the jokes sounded rude
They were also surprised by Norwegian drink culture
When they drink, it is to be drunk, and that is the only point
In Oslo, one day, when his wife had gone to the hairdresser's
The man sat alone in a cafe, reading a book and drinking a pint
of lager, after a while, he ordered another pint
The man served him that and also gave him a brochure where
to seek help if he had a drinking problem
When the vacation was over, and he was sitting on the plane, his wife
asked, why are they dressed so poorly, to that, her husband said
It is because everyone is equal in this nationalistic society
They know nothing about other nations, as they think their
Life is wonderful
There was a Tilley Willy in her back
It was a seasoned one with pneumonia hack.
Sasha had been trying to shake it since lunch
It had grown up with the McMillian bunch.
It had tentacles that wrapped around her twice.
Tilley Willy thought living inside her was truly nice.
Other humans and dogs have ticks, lice and fleas.
She kept begging it to leave using manners and please.
The Tilley Wiley was determined to stay forever
Then she met a comedienne quite nice and clever
So she encouraged Sasha to stand really close
And that Tilley Wiley jumped from host to host.
Sasha’s pneumonia promptly and abruptly went away
The comedienne had a ridiculous cold the very next day.
ON STAGE DREAMS
On rare nights, those bubbling dreams return.
My heart, thumps madly, tummy all achurn.
For I once again get to relive that joy, it’s so splendiferous.
To make an audience, happy, feeling I make a difference!
The stage lights blinded me from seeing the audience, like a
thick San Francisco fog.
But I was able to make them laugh, never mind the smoky billowing smog.
It’s miraculous to create a relationship with people I could not really see.
Was I ever nervous~ surely, you must be kidding!
Every time I walked up the stairs to perform,I would have preferred
to be on a mountaintop, skiing!
My back ran with water, it felt like Niagara falls, but that had to be
ignored, because it was with them, I wanted to score.
The appreciation and love by an audience is the biggest gift ever.
Braver ones, came to me to express their friendship and appreciation,
later.
If only, I could do it all over~ I can’t, the times on the clock cannot be
rolled back.
Writing humor, for this poet, lacks the intense joy of immediate
human joy and interaction.
I wish I could do so, but my brain finds writing it, dull with
no stage light refraction.
I admire the poets who can pen funny poems with professional
hilarity.
But for this poet, the lack of human laughter is such a great
disparity.
So, thank you poets who have this gift, write on, do~ it gives
this retired comedienne, a joyous lift!
Thank you, Fellow Poets
Panagiota
9/24/2022
On Wells Street in Chicago, is a sweet comedic treat.
Second City Theater for laughs and where many found their beginnings on plain stage, their life's heartbeat.
No "Phantom of the Opera" no lines, no costumes, no staging.
All actors had to do was improvise.No heavy make-up, yet one in an
instant learn how to disguise.
As in jazz, whether Brubeck or Davis, we all played off one another.
No fixed lines like Henny or famous the Smothers Brothers.
I never understood this magic of improvisation,
But once I learned it, what a phenomenal source of excitation.
This was a true gift how to act in the now.
It has served me in relationships, as I can't be a fake no how!
The censor that dances in your head keeps you from being free,
as if your head is stuck in a tree.
Most get stuck inside their heads, improvisation sets you free.
~Biography~
Poetess is Graduate of the famed Second City.
Was on stage for their Childrens Theater Troupe every Saturday for two years.
After that, moved on to be a stand up comedienne.I was trained by Tom Dreesen and Tim Reid("WKRP in Cincinnati."
I worked clubs in Chicago. Later in San Francisco, at Holy City Zoo. **Women comedians in the 1970's were not to be gross as they are now.
Tim and Tom were the only black and white comedy act ever. No grossness was ever displayed...best experience of my life!
Dedicated to Tom Dreesen and Tim Reid. Tom went on to be the opening act for Frank Sinatra and helped in the HBO movie on Frank. Also, launched The Comedy Store in Los Angeles. Both humble men....and friends,
I remember the first day well,
with your glorious bright red hair you burst into the room
like a struck match,and everyone's face lit up.
Model, comedienne, everyone's favourite Auntie, crush,
paramour in dreams, happiness in stilettos, all bundled into one
like a Swiss Army Knife.
Watching you smile was like opening a Christmas present,
and when you laughed, it fizzed and popped like party wine.
When you boarded my bus, akin to some lovesick schoolboy
I'd cross my fingers
and wish and wish that you'd sit with me,
and when you did, though I sat still, my whole insides went 'HOORAY!!'.
From Reiki healing to old Hollywood musicals,
whatever you spoke of
I was held rapt.
You could read the ingredients off the back of a tin of curry
and you would still enchant me.
I'm sure that the moment you were conceived, the Good Lord,
like a bomb disposal expert,
cut the wires marked 'sadness', and you emerged not with a cry,
but a giggle.
If you were any lovelier, you would have exploded,
and the whole town would have been covered
in a thick, gooey layer of lovely.
What a magnificent disaster that would have been.
Instead, you were taken cruelly-
Cancer isn't fussy whose friends it takes,
and on the clearest days my sunshine seems dimmer now.
Grief that soaks like cold rain only lessened by gratitude in having known you.
Just wish we'd crossed paths sooner.
Or I could live my life backwards.
Miss you x
Gaynor Wadsworth R.I.P 2017
For contest 'I wish I knew you when you were young',
sponsor Julie Leigh Rodeheaver