Long Funnyheart Poems

Long Funnyheart Poems. Below are the most popular long Funnyheart by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Funnyheart poems by poem length and keyword.


That's Not My Elephant, Miss Ella

'That’s not my elephant, Miss Ella.  Get to tickets to Cairo tonight.'
I looked up from my desk, picked up the phone and sullenly said ‘alright’.
But before I could make that call, I had to cancel with Eddie;
Our first real date as a couple; I was making Italian spaghetti.

I spent the rest of the day, calling keepers, curators and aides,
Searching for missing elephants, until we boarded the plane.
Cairo was warm and amusing, but my heart was with Eddie tonight;
I wonder what he does for a living; but I love him, so he must be alright.

'That’s not my elephant, Miss Ella' I woke to hear him speak;
'Cairo shipped him to Paris; he’s featured at the Louvre this week.
Do you know a guy named McGregor?  Got his hands on this deal somehow;
Thinks D.C. is the only location; more second graders to see him there now.'

'This McGregor, he’s got strange ideas; thinks Obama has brought a new voice;
With young children to raise, a desire to learn... museums must make the right choice.'
But I’d never heard of McGregor, I just wanted to know the next plan;
For my heart was still dreaming of Eddie, and of when we could meet again.

Then my boss told me that this McGregor nearly ruined the Bill of Rights;
He said the small second graders couldn't see without radiant lights.
He got lots of support from other curators and keeper and even some aides;
I even heard tell he went out on a limb and asked one of them on a date.

'Now I hear it wasn't my elephant, posing in Paris this week;
Mr. Eddie McGregor tried to take charge, but turns out he’s really quite meek.
Get two tickets for home, Miss Ella; we found my elephant tonight;
Mr. Eddie McGregor tried to get smart, but turns out he’s not very bright.'

'Why, Miss Ella, there’s no need to cry, we're shipping my elephant home;'
But my tears had begun a minute before, when I had answered my phone.
It was Eddie, and he poured it all out, then said he'd no longer come 'round;
The government takes a dim view of theft; my Eddie had been sent down.
© Deb Radke  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member The Diary of Lord Kellington (8)

Oh, the fine attire.  
Women in low cut, grand gowns.
Men in their finest plumage.
Strutting Peacocks, aiming to draw attention.

I wore tails of silk, with fine brocade work as the trim, down the sleek lapels.  I dressed 
entirely in black.  From head to toe.

I looked splendid!
I stood out from the Peacocks, as a Raven would
stand out among Doves.
Cunning as a Raven too.  She had not one suspicion.

I was at my best.
Charming, witty, a mystery.  Women fall for that.

I slowly, cunningly stalk my prey.  A vision in gold.
I danced with her.  Her gold, a perfect foil to my black.
I charmed her sweetly.  I maneuvered her easily.

I had previous, had the chance to find the spot, 
where she would become mine.  Such a pretty throat.  One that I will drown within.

Once outside, hidden, strategically from all eyes, I began my "dance".
I gaze down into her eyes.  Her precious heart begins to race.  I can feel her blood.  It 
calls to me with it's song.
A song of need.
Her breaths slowed and deepened.  Her eyes remained locked with mine.

I let her see then, the glory of what I am.  She wanted to scream.  But, I had control 
now.  

My incisors grew.  Their points very sharp indeed.  My muscles bulked.  I ruined my fine 
new coat.  Split the shoulder seams right out.


I toyed with her.  I kiss her lips so gently.  She trembled for me.  I tried to hold back, 
wanting to prolong her fear.

Blood lust is, what is.  I could smell her rich, thick blood.  I wanted it all.  I wanted to 
bathe in it.  Feel it glide over my skin.

My fangs sank deep.  Drawing up the precious blood.  Elixir of life.
As I fed, I heard her heart slowing with each draw I took.  

And just before death could claim her, I released her from her thrall, to scream.  It was 
the last sound I heard as the men came running.  I took my leave.

I am a monster.
I do it well and I love it so.
Soon the sun shall rise again.
I will sleep as the dead.


~Lord Kellington
Form: Narrative

My Heart Is Like

My heart is like anvil swinging on a fishing string
My heart is like a song bird without it's vocals flying on broken wings

My heart is like a deep ocean the deeper you go the darker it gets
My heart is like a bad memory everyone wants to forget 

My heart is like a hollow tunnel filled with emptiness 
My heart is a like woman scorn full of resentfulness 

My heart is like a frosted flower on a freezing winters night 
begging to be heated by the suns early morning light 

beckoning the arrival of a withered and early death
my heart is like a knight without his armor facing the dragon's breath

My heart is like an open book for all to turn it's pages wide 
My heart is like the ocean's salty waters from the waves that subside

My heart is like a broken poem lost in rhythm lost in rhyme
My heart is like a broken clock without the hands to foretell the time 

My heart is like a blind man who always likes to stare 
My heart is like a stunt man who gives up on the dare 

My heart is like tinted windows where the sun has no glare
My heart is like a hospital without the patient care 

My heart is like the mimosa plant sensitive to the touch 
My heart is like a standard car without the pedal clutch 

My heart is like the cuddle fish that changes it's disguise 
My heart is like a question asked but no answer is replied 

My heart is like my tears refusing to fall from my eye 
My heart is like no constellations embracing the darkened sky

My heart is like the kool-aid with out the sugar in the mix 
My heart is like a crack-head on the corner without his daily fix 

My heart is like the entertainer without any fans 
My heart is like the farmer without any land

My heart is just like this poem it just doesnt make any sense 
why did i even write the pointless poem in 1st person present tense???????
Form: Rhyme

Gonzo Is My Life Not Just My Name

Ten warents fifteen DUI's one 311.
Just some good laughs from nights out with the guy's
Drinking till you kiss the floor.

Sweet as peach with a jaded rotten core.
Best friend to none and  in a eternal romance with the liquer
store.

A siren's call sounds like my phone.
It's hard to rest easy.
When your never alone.

Another baroom brawl the worlds to unstable tonight.
Your drunk to sweetheart.
Well togather tonight we'll take a beautiful moonlit crawl.

A drunken irish monkey and a lose lass with heart of gold. 
Your always in my whiskey logged heart Rebecca,Sarah,Susan,
I'll get it sometime cause I gotta memory like a steel trap 
that doesnt work so well im often told.

Drinks are on me hey so let's hit em hard.
A thousand dollar tab.
Good thing I stole, I mean borrowed grandma's credit card.

You cant live in regret or worry over what other's have
said.
laugh often, love many,
Watch the road and avoid long conversations 
with the voices in your head.

Im many things none of which are what you may expect.
A first class losser a no good boozer and a charming
rotten far from little reject.

Gonzo's the name first to the bar and no stranger to last call.
A bad liver and some worn out lines.
Often I stagger but seldom do I fall.

Why sweat tommorow when I can party tonight.
Some call me worthless others just a bum who's
happy spending time in the shade drink in hand perfect
and lazy.
Time is promise amigos.
So enjoy every moment for in this life i'll forever stay 
crazy.
Form: Rhyme

I Smell Your Perfume On the Breeze

I Smell Your Perfume On The Breeze
By Rick Rucker

I smell your perfume on the breeze,
When we’re apart, nothing can ease

My longing for You, most complete,
You are, by far, the one most sweet!

Although we text, and talk by phone,
When I can’t hold you, I feel Alone!

Stronger than the strongest drug,
You calm my Heart, with just your Hug!

I would live my Life under your conscription,
If my doctor would write that prescription!

But he’s afraid that my Heart can’t take it,
Too much of your loving, and I won’t make it!

I told him that it’s fine,
You are as intoxicating as Wine!

He is really worried,
He doesn’t want to be hurried,

When I told him about the smell of your hair,
I lost my balance, nearly fell off the chair,

It’s true that absence makes the Heart grow fonder,
In my case, it causes my mind to wander!

He’s never seen a case like mine,
His diagnosis he must refine.

“Profound Separation Anxiety,”
It sounds like a lot of bull to me!

Why can’t he just say,
That I miss You every second of the day?

I don’t know if my doctor just sucks,
Or wants me to return, another hundred bucks!

I think I’ll simply take the chance,
To be in Love, with You, in Hot Romance!
Form: Couplet


Premium Member Ollie

Never an Oliver but always Ollie
Not very serious but full of folly
A smile that warms the Sun
A heart that beats for fun

Ollie never dress to impress
The boy kinda looks the mess
Dusty blonde hair boy
Bluest eyes see so coy

Mischief, pranks being bad
His pouting face knows you've been had
To punish him makes you sad
Your heart melts with I love you Dad

Spare the rod and spoil the child
But how can you discipline such a smile
In your youth were you not wild
Your Mother's curse curses you now

It will happen to you when you have a child
Boys are silly, boys are loud
Boys are dirty, boys are foul
Boys are boys, things break somehow

Go online and try to fine Ollie's Moms vase
The one that graces the foyer in it's special place
Google this, Yahoo that, is if your in a race
Eureka! Ollie the old antique store has one to replace

Sweep the floor leave not a clue or trace
The new vase is here not a second to waste
Mom drives up, Dad opens the door
As Mommy steps in the vase hits the floor

Its time to be Oliver, no more Ollie
Weeping in the corner, his behind tan by golly
But who stands beside him is that not Dad?
$600.00 for a ten dollar vase! Mom can't be had.
Form: Rhyme

Cliche Confusion

They say "money makes the world go round" I really don't understand 
I thought it was a magnetic field not something made by man 

They say "don't count your chickens before they begin to hatch" 
but what if my eggs came........... from a totally different batch?

They say "what goes around comes around" I'm just a little bit confused 
How can I use the same fire cracker when I already lit the fuse?

They say "what goes up must come down" but what if its in outer-space??
Does Newton's law of gravity come back and smack us in the face??

They say "a way to a man's heart is through his stomach"
This seems like a very hard task, and isn't it true to reach the stomach 
the heart at first you must pass???

They say "beauty is only skin deep" what does that really mean?
Is it because we bathe with soap that our pores are really clean?

All these quotes and cliches and the all around play on words 
got me all confused I think its just absurd 

But I can't blame anyone I can only blame myself 
I should of picked up the thesaurus thats been sitting on my shelf
Form: Rhyme

High Tea

When he reached in his pocket; he found only a locket;
It was a heart all shinning in gold
Inside were inscriptions; of love type depictions;
Of a love that would never grow old.

In his heart was a thump; in his throat was a lump;
And the water did flow from his eyes.
It was over but yet; he could never forget;
The silky soft feel of her thighs

In the opposite pocket; he then found his rocket;
That he grabbed and found thrilling to hold.
Free of restrictions; he sped up the friction;
And there in his pants dropped a load

Slightly in shame; but thanking the rain
He walked in the strangest of ways.
For a spot had been set; by the place that was wet;
And he was sure he’d be punished for days.

So the point of the story; of old love and glory;
It’s best you leave old love behind.
Keep your hands to the sides; or on the wheel when you drive;
But be careful of things that you find.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member The Diary of Lord Kellington (14)

I hold in my hand, a human heart.
A mortal heart.
A dead heart.

Yet, for the briefest of instances, I felt it beat.
That expansion of life.  The thump, that is music to my ears.
He put up quite a fight.
his will was strong.  I had to exert more than a mere thought of will upon his mind.
I had to concentrate as never before.
He was a new experience for me.
It vexed me.

He laughed at me in the end.  
Even as his own life's blood, filled my mouth and flowed down my throat.
Even as his heart slowed, he laughed.
He did not laugh when he saw his own heart in front of his cold dead eyes.

I will keep this heart to remind myself of my struggle with a strong will.  So as not to 
become to sure of myself and my prowess.  But, I did win.

A paper weight.   Or I could rest my quill within it, like a pin cushion.
It looks rather nice upon my desk.

~Lord Kellington
Form: Narrative

Thoughts of a Lonely French Girl On a Winter's Day

Sweet violins play-
My heart rests at bay and
The trees outside my Window change colors-
As December, like a Hopeless Lover
Runs after May.

And Mother always told me to
Keep my Doors open but the
Pests kept inviting
Themselves in
And Possibility always rang my Doorbell
And then ran away.

Always a single cup of coffee and not two
at the café.
And the ashes of these cigarettes
Left the figure of a heart who’s flames
Took its life away.

No one to share these poems and
Stories with but this Berry Parfait.

The Wind Chime jingles
The Wine Glasses click
And my neighbors’ drunken laughter
Fills the Hallways
While sweet violins play-
My heart rests at bay and
The trees outside my window change colors-
As December, like a Hopeless Lover
runs after May.
Form: Rhyme

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