Long Funnynight Poems
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SENSITIVITY
They’re all ignored by us, but they have feelings too :
A black gravestone in New York, down in the world,
Recalling its halcyon days as a part of
The impressive strata at Palisades Park.
The statue in the museum of Androcles and the Lion
Daydreaming - oh, for the good old days just lying sunbaked
On the beach surrounded by
Fossil shells and shrimp at Sables d’ Olonne,
With the feet of the famous resting gently on you.
And the marble fireplace in our living room -
He can still see in his mind’s eye
The Carrara quarries in bygone days…..
Why, some of his great-grand-daddies were
Hacked out of there and taken to Rome for the Via Appia.
Oh yes, stones have feelings too.
My carved ship-of-the-line from Nelson’s navy
With her masts and spars and decks and cabins
Lies awake at night thinking of her days
In the pine forests of Norway; and next to her
This old cedar jewellery box, with intoxicating
Smells of the coast at Prince Rupert
Where she lay on the beach for weeks
Before the saw mill changed her shape and sent her to me.
The new sapele door in our hall spends hours
Wishing for his buddies in the jungles of Uganda
Where the ants would tickle you
Half to death with their constant scurrying
Up and down your branches, building this or that.
Listen closely and he’ll boast that some
of his relatives ended their days as propellers
on German zeppelins, I kid you not.
Everyone has to feel special.
And what about those unassuming steel forks in my drawer
who can still tell stories
Of their days as iron ore in Finland,
And how their brother Ernie became
A bumper on the President’s limo (supposedly).
Or my wife’s copper bracelets with their pathetic tales
Of being shipped from Cyprus
and remelted into ingots in Bimingham.
I have overheard the wings of a 747
Recollecting in the hangars at night
How their existence as bauxite in Jamaica was so idyllic,
“Wit all dat reggae and smokin’ and god knows what, man.”
They too have their memories.
And, man, de smell in dat hangar!
Let me tell you the story of Miss Jenny Prime,
who spent all of her days making everything rhyme.
It was thought she’d outgrow this strange childhood spell,
but her fetish just grew and made her parents’ life hell.
When Miss Prime was a baby, still sporting a bib,
each night she was cuddled, then placed in a crib
by her doting young parents, who thought it quite funny
to give her a pet name, “Sleep tight Hunny Bunny.”
And that was the start of poor Jenny’s plight,
forced to listen to vowel chimes night after night.
Before long she was making up rhymes for herself,
all her un-rhyming toys were just left on the shelf.
Even quenching her thirst could cause quite a stink,
no O.J for Jenny, her drink had to be pink.
They bought her some shoes, red, shiny and new,
“I’ve told you, I’m not wearing a shoe that’s not blue”
She demanded a dog so they went to the pound,
she picked the fattest one there, just to have a round hound.
Her bed had to be red, her jeans had to be green,
and a fish dish for dinner or she’d cause a right scene.
Stamping her feet she cried “I should be Jenna,
and for pocket money, I should be getting a tenner”
Each Friday brought tantrums, as she hardly had any,
reluctantly taking just a penny for Jenny.
Her increase in years simply brought more despair,
she bleached ebony locks for she needed fair hair.
The colours of clothes always caused her to cry,
so to get round the problem she learned to tie-dye.
Now I know it will come as some sort of surprise,
but Jenny had caught a young gentleman’s eyes.
He knew things would be tough, but he’d give it a try
so, with posies of roses, he dared to drop by.
The roses were great and he was kinda cute,
he’d even gone to the trouble of tie-dying his suit.
He was called Jack Kilkenny, his name did not rhyme,
so she told him to leave and stop wasting her time.
But Jack was his nickname, his real name was Lenny.
Alas, this information was not known to Jenny.
He was perfect for her, a match better than any,
for if they’d wed they’d be Lenny and Jenny Kilkenny.
Well, when I started getting older
I decided to set out on a quest
I was gonna find that Fountain of Youth
Or, at least, I'd try my best
I stumbled across this forgotten village
Where only young people live
That's when I knew I'd found it
I was almost positive
I saw this beautiful stone fountain
Standing in the middle of the square
My journey was finally over
As I slowly walked over there
They had a tarnished silver dipper
That was hanging on a nail
Beside it was a old wooden bucket
And then, a golden pail
As I was reaching for the dipper
This little boy appeared
He said, "Careful you choose correctly"
And he suddenly disappeared
Now, I didn't know which one to choose
The wooden bucket or pail of gold
So I decided to drink a little of both
At least, I wouldn't grow old
And then a couple of hours later
I noticed, I wasn't looking too young
Then that little boy came back and said,
"Do you know what you have done?"
I answered, "Yes I do" before I thought
Though I really wanted to lie
I just couldn't make mysef do it
No matter how hard I'd try
"You have cheated," the little boy said
"Now you'll never find your youth
For by tasting both you've deceived yourself
And it became the Fountain of Truth?
So, needless to say, I really messed up
And I'm cursed for the rest of my life
Cause it doesn't matter how hard I try
I can never tell a lie to my wife
They'll be no more late night poker games
Or a night on the town with the guys
I've changed my name to honest Abe
For I can't tell no more lies
Now, the reason I wrote this story
Is, well, I really can't tell you why
I was gonna make a reason up
But, remember? I just can't tell a lie
Hello,
I would like to introduce you to a dear old friend of mine.
I made his acquaintance by pure accident. You might say, we bumped into each
other. Oh, silly me. You thought I speak of an actual person.
No. I hold here in my hands, a diary. Not just any diary filled with day to day
frilliness of a Victorian Lady. But, a diary filled with.......
Well, I guess you will have to just wait and read for yourself. I will just pick a page at
random to start out at.
The Gentleman who wrote these entries, is a man of many facets. He is kind;
frivolous; confident; an egotist. He can be filled with anger and then *snap*, just like
that, be his over the top self once more.
He is death himself. He is a Vampire.
Ladies and Gentlemen, I offer you a look into
The Diaries Of Lord Kellington
Whispers of the dawn rush to meet me each morn. They taunt and tease
me. "Morning is not long to come. Your time to play does run out".
Alas. Tis true. My time in the night is short. So I must hurry. Shall I prowl the night
as I? Or shall I don a disguise.
Once I think on it. Either way does not matter. There will be no eyes. None to see
after my "kiss". So sweet and gentle that sip.
It takes just a glance and the other night dwellers know to avoid me. They sense that
death is my shadow. Why! They couldn't be more right.
I will choose swiftly. So that I may go dance. Yes! I love to dance. Ah. The night is
my stage. Truth be told? I love it!
~Lord Kellington
Hello,
I hope you enjoyed the first installment of Lord Kellington's Diary. There are more to
come
Messed up room and untouched books ariled by dust,
Branded cards specially bought
To bring out yips,
Last year’s Questions
Cut-short by hazards,
Next day’s paper
To prove the intellectuality in us.
Gabfest few minutes and
Gambling with the Joker for few hours,
A priori minds
And the counterattack,
A checkmate came after
When we realized
Only a night left thereafter.
Tension free four noetic minds
Held back for the bid,
Contributions pulled together
For the set paper to reach us.
Selected essay types and unsorted small questions -
Difficulty aroused to find out the answers
For the latter ones.
A yawning start and pages on count
Serious four minds
Now settled to start with the easygoing ones.
A Night-tea break and counting the part left
A great deal to follow, Unlaxed mood yet.
Cut-shorts answers on the way to close
Six month’s at one night
Now to face a three hours of fight.
Smiling four faces and head surging legion
Final bell rang and papers distributed.
Eye balls bulged out,
Heads started to itch,
Last night bid paper
Appeared a son of a b(i)tch.
Experienced four minds
Now to prove their intellectuality –
They followed the same old tricks.
Mugged up answers allotted
To the questions appeared from the same chapter,
Few were filled up
By their inborn self author.
Three hours to end
And we finished an half before,
We just followed the same old theory trick
Never leave the field blank
Or else to choke.
-------------x-------------------
Being that I am a philosophical being. I find myself pondering many unique thoughts,
as I sit and stare off at the night time sky.
Earlier, I dined upon a sweet, young flower seller, down at the Square. She wore a
shawl about her shoulders ,that were stooping too soon on someone so young. As
though the weight of all her thoughts, rested upon her delicate shoulders. Well, she
has no need to worry now. After I sampled her blood, I slipped a thousand Pounds
into her skirt pocket. It always does good for a shepard to tend his flock.
Ah yes! Pondering thoughts.
I wonder what would happen, if were to awake to be mortal once more?
What if I were to conceive an allergy to blood?
Maybe I should allow myself to fancy myself in love and marry?
What if I were to enter a church in all my monstrous glory? What fun!
Or, what if I was no longer welcomed by Polite Society?
What if my tailor quit!?
Or say, if I were to reach out to you, the reader of my night time missives, right now.
Grab you 'bout the throat and drink deep? Ha!
But, what nonsense I ponder and write of.
For I will always be welcomed among Polite Society. I am far too charming not to be.
My tailor, although routinely vexed with me for the late night hours I employ his
services, would never quit me. I pay his exorbinate fees without qualms.
The rest of my meanderings. Ha! I fear not a one.
But, the mere thought of Crystal having kittens herself....GADS!
~Lord Kellington
It all started in kindergarten with cowboys on them
Next came Smokey and the Bandit's Trans Am
Collected a pair Doris Day once wore
Took a pair from the garbage at the curb next door
While most people are Jonesin' I am Sammin'
When night time is my time I can secretly be pajammin'
I have a pair from Frederick's of Hollywood on order
A pair from Taco Bell with their slogan, Make a Run For the Border
An organic pair made out of Poison Ivy, that I will never wear
A pair from my Psychatrist asking is Anybody In There?
From Janet Lee's suitcase in Psycho
A pair with the Gecco from GEICO
A pair I wear only during the NBA season so I can do some dunkin' and slammin'
I am definitely a closet case when it comes to pajammin'
I have a pair directly from the WWE
A pair designed by David Hasselhoff, now that is scary
A Richard Dawson pair from Family Feud
A pair from Nancy Grace with her quote, "Some Other Dude"
A silk pair from the weaves of China
Speaking of weaves, I stole a pair from Aunt Jemima
A pair from Captain D's, they smell like fish, I mean they are really clammin'
Nobody would appreciate a good, solid, living on the edge type pajammin'
Once again I appreciate the night when it arrives
Sometimes I get so excited, it gives me the hives
So where is America's understandin'
I see no get togethers for us who are obsessed with pajammin'
Form:
She's screams running blindly into the night.
How much fun are first dates.
Slow down my sweet this love you cannot fight.
She's screams into this night like some demonic hound.
One word advice my dear.
When your lost dont be found.
She ran down to the lake but some jerk in a hockey
mask tried to snag her leg.
Please dont take shellter in that farm house.
The guy with the chainsaw isnt a late night lumberjack
my sweet please dont make me beg.
Ive herd the zombies are restless so avoid the grave yard.
Do you run marathons my dear?
I swear can we take a break why must you make things so
hard?
She finally stopped and struck a karate pose.
Twisted arond in the air and threw a thrust kick.
To a area only Dr Igors hand knows.
She took my arm and poped it outta socket.
I screamed like a little girl.
Really I was just playing take my car keys my wallet
and if ya hear something in the trunk dont
unlock it.
Fiends came to my rescue and what I say is no lie.
She made quick work of them all.
Got pair of plyers and made my werewolf more than cry.
To heck with you guys im taking this puppy to the
pound.
And sometimes when lost it's best not to
be found.
And in this lesson we learn its sucks to be hunted
but for me its was worse to be the hunter.
Thank God I survived.
The night of the living marathon runner
Form:
I'm relaxin' with my spouse this New Year's Eve just a-schmoozin',
About past celebrations in our youth that we now find amusin'.
Tomorrow we'll dine on blackeyed peas, an old Southern tradition,
For good luck and bring our hopeful resolutions to fruition!
A moderate tad of spirits in our youth we could tolerate,
And ere the kids arrived, we always slept a little late.
We used to go to late night parties and sip a little booze.
Now, on New Year's Eve, we sit at home and watch the news!
We used to dance the night away at parties bright and gay.
Now, we compare infirmities as others while the night away!
The champagne corks popped and "Auld Lang Syne" we sang.
Fireworks brought in the New Year with a resounding bang!
We recall the silly hats we wore, kisses at the stroke of twelve,
And the heaps of scrumptious grub in which we used to delve.
Now, we sip Metamucil cocktails with sour cream dip and chips,
Slumped in our recliners, snores escapin' from our lips!
Strange that in the olden days we could celebrate 'til dawn,
But by nine o'clock nowadays we can hardly stifle a yawn!
As the clock chimes twelve, I'll leave it for others to celebrate,
'Cept for eatin' blackeyed peas and 'pone to facilitate my fate!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
One night while i was driving,
and heading back to town.
Something jumped from nowhere,
Good Lord i knocked it down.
I got out of my car
my nerves were in a scare,
then to my surprise
there lay a great big Hare!
His breathing it was shallow
so i put him in my car,
at least he was alive
my home was not to far.
at last i reached my house
i carried him inside.
I laid down Mr Hare
his eyes they opened wide..
at first he seemed upset
but then he settled down,
heartbeat back to normal
at last i lost my frown.
But i had plans that night
a night out with some girls
and here i was quite trapped,
left dreaming of my thrills!
My lodger was quite dirty
covered in brown mud,
bit"s of grass adorned him
he was heading for my tub!
Never mind a Vet
for he was fit and well
after bumping into him
i knew that he"d be swell.
Just then the phone did ring
"Oh when you coming down?"
"I can"t". I just replied,
all be it with a frown.
My girlfriends were not happy
i knew them oh so well,
so i told a big white lie
the one that we all tell.
"For i am running oh so late,
the next time oh i swear,
for i have such a bit to do,
i"ve still to wash my Hare!"