Long Funnymay Poems
Long Funnymay Poems. Below are the most popular long Funnymay by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Funnymay poems by poem length and keyword.
'Tis well known that mules are a very stubborn breed,
So 'tis well to keep that point in mind ere you proceed!
They've been known to bite and they have a mighty hefty kick.
(So, how to harness a mule? Very carefully and you must be quick!)
First, you should tie the mule to a sturdy post in an open area.
This will provide you room to move about and lessen his hysteria!
Grab the collar and slide the wider open end over the mule's ears.
(While doin' this, whisper sweet nothin's to him to calm his fears!)
Fasten the hames to the collar and drape the traces over his back.
Tuck the crupper under his tail makin' sure it is somewhat slack.
Tighten the girth ensurin' it's tight, then, fasten the bellyband.
(Take a break to bind the wound where he nipped you on the hand!)
The reins are carefully threaded through the saddle and collar guides.
(You're forgiven when he steps on your foot and you holler naughty asides!)
Now, slip the halter and bridle over his ears and place the bit in his mouth.
Walla! You're ready to hitch him to the plow to turn those forty acres south!
Well, so what you may ask? Why all this fuss about harnessin' a mule?
Because you may be required to harness one someday and not look the fool!
Furthermore, with the price of gasoline risin' at the pump nowadays,
You may need to get a mule and buggy and change your gas-guzzlin' ways!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
The Bedbugs Come to Call
By Elton Camp
All my life I’ve heard of this pest
In filthy houses they come to nest
Bed bugs you will never detect
Where people have self-respect
It seems now, that’s no longer true
Several things we may come to rue
First of all, we have no way to tell
Who stayed before us in the hotel.
We must take the greatest care
Bed bugs can be most anywhere
On spreads or sheets they like to hide
On upholstered chairs they’ve been spied
Maid brings them on the housekeeping cart
Or aboard the luggage carrier they may dart
So when we leave the Marriott,
Sneaky hitchhikers we have got
In the dressing room of the clothing store,
Must never lay our garments on the floor
Use the hook on the wall
Coat, clothes, purse and all
In doctor’s waiting room never dare
Sit on cloth cushioned couch or chair
If we dare to buy from any yard sale,
We must wash the garment without fail
Be certain to use water hot as can be
To insure that you stay bedbug free
Don’t think it can’t happen to you
It really can, despite all you try to do
But even if the pests we acquire,
They cause no real illness dire.
So now try to have a restful night
Please don’t let the bedbugs bite.
Here is my own recipe for Diet Fruit Pie.
Perhaps you’d like to give it a try.
It will be a success I trust,
if pounds need be shed
as I assume they must.
Peel five large bananas and discard the insides.
Get out the chopper and blend those hides.
When it turns to paste, flour up a pan
and squish it in there by hand.
That will be the crust
of which every pie must.
You may even lick your fingers
If you’re one of those bingers.
Now to this diet pie plan of yours,
Add four cups of apple cores.
For filler, chop up the cardboard box without the ritz
and fold it in with a cup of blended cherry pits.
Now cover up this mess with the rest of the banana peel batter
Bet you’re already feeling a lot less fatter….
(stop drooling)
You may finish up with a garnish topping as follows:
Take old grapefruit peelings and chop them up fine,
mix in, to suite, bits of watermelon rind.
Sprinkle this topping generously all around
And burn this dietary delight until brown.
Warning: this recipe is not for the anemic
As it tends to make one bulimic.
(for more tempting recipes go to : uuuheadforthejohn.com )
Chef Robairte'
It’s amazing how a simple glass of wine,
Can unleash a hidden thought or meaning
You’d think as much as I’ve consumed in life,
I would have a tome that’s gleaming
Full of wise, sagacious oratory
Of thoughts that help the mind
But maybe it’s all piffle, of the wrong kind
You see it’s a very simple thing,
If you’re a writer from the heart
It doesn’t matter how or if you cloud it,
It may someday become someone’s art
God has provided us one of many bounties, the grape
That sometimes helps unleash the sometimes hidden shape
Of some very blessed minds from the most blessed of us all
It may be a way to help reach our true selves, or sometimes break through a wall
So now that I’ve made this potentially absurd assertion
It’s time to prove the theory, with some not so perfect allocution
Of some wise, thoughtful insight into a single glass of wine
For without passion and effort in the making
It may not enable the divine
So maybe try a glass of the fermented grape
When next you feel the block of the writer,
And when others read your work thereafter,
Things may turn out brighter.
what's in a sound, thaT HAS NO WORD?
laughing in enjoyment, or at a spirit broken
laughter brings us closer, or for a fight will gird
laughter has a resonance, meaning many things unspoken
being me, i may laugh, i may cry
but i will only half the time laugh with most of you
the laughter that a good man, a good joke may buy
is the laughter that soars joyful in skies of blue
the laughter that needs a victim? maliscious and so wrong,
you're resonance is dissonance to this poets soul
in this errant, poetic whim, this sad and mournful song
i speak of sounds emanating from a hole
not a heart.
hope, Emily says, sings without words
like the morning majesty of a symphany of birds
nobody i would condone, laughs at birds, only
somehow, with them, but if they're hurt, like maybe you or me
have a poets heart, and share some hope
what may start with a smile
at hurt feelings, or a snit, or a mope
might become a laugh, in a little while
i've heard of many a hopeful smile
try one on
before the music is all gone
and you're left at break of dawn
alone
laughing...
Ned the Nerd Gets the Last Laugh
By Elton Camp
Ned is one of the smartest boys in his school
But he is often the subject of scorn or ridicule
Although what others may think he doesn’t care
And he acts like those who hate him aren’t there
Ned is often bullied and is quite socially isolated
Very few, if any, are the girls that he has ever dated
A boy so thin as to set off very serious health alarms,
He wears his pants pulled way up high under his arms
To get along with others he seldom seriously tries
And wears thick glasses that are greatly oversize
Ned has protectors inserted into his shirt pockets
And knows about math, science and space rockets
The usual guy-things Ned doesn’t want to hear
About sports or their progress with their latest dear
When there’s something academic they need to know
Both boys and girl know that to Ned is where they go
Good looks and athletic ability after a while will fade
But one with Ned’s intelligence may still have it made
And long-term good things it certainly does seem
Don’t always go to the captain of the football team
I have named it.
The kittens name is....Crystal.
It is an apt name, seeing as
she felt compelled to break
my crystal goblet.
The very one I "drink" from
on the occasions when someone
tries to break in.
One must see to use manners
when one is in his own home.
Crystal has not one.
She has already used my coffin
as an outhouse.
We are working stridently on
that particular issue.
Last nights hunt was....well,
boring, to say the least. I was
distracted. My thoughts were of
home and what Crystal was doing now.
I need to take time.
Feel the flavor of the hunt.
Feel my preys fear.
Or it is like drinking Ale,
instead of a rare wine.
Both will get you there.
But, as I always say,
One must always choose style. It is
what separates us from...well,
uncouth mortals and such.
I am not a snob.
I may be pure evil, true.
But, I do have standards.
Few that they may be.
I believe I am fit now.
Tomorrows nights hunt will be
one of the most fun.
I am going to a party.
One I must crash, of course.
~Lord Kellington
Poetry, Should it Rhyme?
By Elton Camp
To deserve “poet” by my name,
In all candor, I have to disclaim.
Mine may not be the worst,
But, in truth, it’s only verse.
For poetry, Keats is the man you need.
He’s the one I suggest that you read.
Now as to the subject here at hand,
Writing free verse I don’t understand.
I heard “iambic pentameter” in college lit,
But in my narrow thinking it never did fit.
For Shakespeare and Frost it works fine.
But that style can never come to be mine.
My “poems” may be predictable and mundane,
But like that, I fear, they will have to remain.
What I write is usually just for fun.
And only in old age has it begun.
The “old dog” finds that tricks come hard.
And he isn’t likely ever to become a bard.
So to those whose poetry doesn’t rhyme,
Know that I won’t criticize you any time.
There’s a lot of poems that have gone unread
They hang in limbo as if written by the dead
Awaiting for someone to hear their cry
As they do not have a mouth to question why
Open one
Just for fun
It may make you laugh, Ooh! UHH! Or just sigh
To those that will make you say Oh my Oh my
And don’t forget to leave a comment
It make those poems alive and give the poet a judgement
For example, I found one just a minute ago
It was boring and time wasting if you must know
The ending just killed me, it drove me up the wall
Till I read who wrote it, it was yours truly Sidney Hall
*Save the poet Make a comment*
Small print: please note this is not an advertisment for personal gain but to assist
those new poets who may value your comment. However, if you feel compelled to
comment on me poems I will not stop you :-)
On Reading a Poem That I Don’t Understand
By Elton Camp
Those lines that an author has penned
I would like very much to commend.
I read it carefully twice more,
But remain confused as before.
The words chosen are those I’ve seen,
But the sentences, what do they mean?
Maybe the poem is just too profound
For a simple man like me to expound.
Does the poet speak of himself or another man?
In his writing of it, just what may be his plan?
I can’t see coherent thought,
To me, it expresses naught.
That doesn’t mean the poem is no good,
Only that by me it isn’t being understood.
Comments that others post
Say that it is just “the most.”
I am sure that true that must be,
It’s just too hard for one like me.
I have to seek an easier verse
With its author I may converse.