Long Funnytime Poems
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Knife goes chopping with the beat,
on the mint which scent so sweet,
Rice arborio n' boiling heat,
Rocking rythm in my feet.
Robbie Williams on my radio,
My spoilt dog stretched in the patio,
Whilst i cook ,clean and sweep,
She is snoring fast asleep.
Washing floors,doing all chores,
In the oven,hot bon bons.
Ow.my God,Its getting late,
sheets are waiting to be layed,
Ironed skirts and steaming shirts,
burnt my finger,Ouch it hurts!
Some ice will have to do,
bumped my head,and turned out blue,
No time for me to feel so sorry,
Swollen head,No time for worry.
Ran upstairs in a breakdance,
to sit down,there's not a chance.
Jumping quickly in the shower,
whilst regaining some cat power,
tick tock-tick tock goes the clock,
there's no time for happy hour.
Brushed my teeth,High Heels in feet,
some perfume and a light treat.
All is ready,all is well,got my keys
texted a pal,Once again ding-dong,
the bell,at this moment,Who's the hell?
It's my neighbour from next door,
melts my ice.He's not a bore,
Cos Of him I'm running late,
guess my boss will have to wait.
Come on in,I said to him,
His left foot already in,
Handsome guy with a huge grin,
Sugar man,One man to win.
What Will i offer him ? a coffee?
I hadn't any beer,Some wine?
or some orange with gin?
Time was pressing in,
Called at work and did a sin,
Called my boss,I faked a fever,
So much thanks,She's a believer.
Smelled some pepper,started
sneezing,My boss's answer
was so pleasing,"Stay at home,
Get well dear,Lots of love and
tender care,don't come close,
No need to share,bye,bye dear".
Problem solved,so wisely done,
Neighbour joined me in the garden,
so relaxed licking the Sun.
Ate lunch and had dessert,
He's a darling and a flirt,
After followed with more fun,
On my sofa,One ON One.
Charma
(This is all fiction,apart for the busy routine! My neighbours are good
old neighbours too,and Im loyal to my boss,just in case..:-)
I had gone looking for trouble.
I found it.
I had awoke in a sour mood. Very unlike myself at all. I am usually, always in good
cheer.
Almost, always.
I was spoiling for a fight.
The need radiated from me.
Even Crystal could sense the difference in my demeanor.
The flea bitten, sweet, craven coward.
After donning my new Peacock blue cloak, with the black pipping and carrying my gold
tipped, lions head walking stick. I left straight away.
I walked for miles. Ending up in the seediest part of the city. The Docks.
I aimlessly wandered the filth strewn, cobbled streets.
Passing many an Ale House.
Finally, my preternatural hearing found the sounds of a fight.
Why, it was an all out riot.
Off I flew to join in.
Fists flying. Daggers plunging. Walking stick cracking skulls. (that would be me)
What fun!
I held back from using my immortal strength. I wanted to feel each time my fist met
flesh. To have to Pick teeth out of my knuckles.
One chap actually caught me a rather right smart jab to my chiseled chin.
Exhausted, the men crumpled to a heap.
Only I remained standing....and the fifteen or so Policemen watching the fray from a
respectable distance.
I have always prided myself on being a law abiding, upstanding citizen. As it were.
So, when they started gathering up everyone and loading them into the Jail Wagon. I
went along, as a lark.
What a buffet!
By the time we reached Central Station, I had sipped upon many a fine blood.
When the Police opened the rear doors of the wagon, I jumped down to the ground,
tipped my hat to them and simply (to his eyes) vanished.
Preternatural speed can be so amusing, when used correctly.
By now, my description will be bandied about. A well dressed gentleman ghost. A
polite wraith. A handsome demon.
I like that. A Handsome Demon...very apt.
I am in a much better spirit now.
~Lord Kellington
I'm a blue collar worker who works outdoors
and I'm also required to wear a hard hat all day.
My exposed skin and face tan at a very fast pace,
but beneath that hard hat, absolutely no way.
The last time I went bandanna free,
someone got distracted, lost their footing and tripped.
All I heard as I fled the scene was, "Did you see that human Q-tip?"
In addition to speaking in rhyme, I dress in black all the time
but that shouldn't reflect upon my personality.
I just claim not to be so great when I attempt to color coordinate
but the simple truth is black is safe and I'm just lazy.
I live the single lifestyle and by that I simply mean that I have chosen to live alone.
I enjoy True Solitude, so I don't share living quarters very well.
My home has to be My Home.
I keep mostly to myself but that shouldn't suggest that I can't be the life of the party.
Back in my day I wore many a lampshade.
Now I've calmed down. I don't party too hearty.
Well, enough about me. What about you?
What are your interests, your passions?
What do You like to do?
Who knows where this might go or how it might end.
At the very least, I Hope to find A Real and True Friend.
Oh yeah, one last thing I need to mention to you.
A little sex from you also would be very nice too.
I was doing very well. I was doing just fine
and then I had to blow it with the very last line.
Am I right ladies? Damnit!
****************************************************************************
Please do not respond to the above ad ladies. It is now null and void. I pretty much live the
life of a hermit these days.
****************************************************************************
Overflowing like the sparkling spring from acerbity,
The emerald stones on the relieve peak
Causing welling up like stormy waves,
And breath taking halt, grunting
Roar as the thundering drums reverberating;
The window pout unfold a feature
As when open wide,
Spoilt by the joyful loudness of croaking;
Grief lips drawn taut
Drop spreading flow,
Drop to wash the ripe Apple cheeky, drop
And meandering through grooves and porous ream
Obstacles of pendants and pillars;
Conclusively arrived, making the jugular waterfall,
Cascading into sea of tears.
True, men do not weep
That bespeaks Hercules vaunting ego,
But, I thank you sir,
Often they sob now or before
Not for unfaithful heart breaks
For loves aplenty,
Not often loves for not excusing
In passing by to greater beyond,
But on lucrative dear deal that sore gone,
On capital fretted away
On good look in,
But crash without remorseful pity
The masculine effeminately swim in river of tears.
Strokes of wipes to back from savage master
The oppressive bully to hapless youth,
Which draws livid reddish lines picture
And rabid yell of agony on twisted mouth,
When puerile little lad yelp
Could be for appeasing breast
But, definitely not for help,
Could lustfully be warmth of mama’s arms,
Things we’re n't aware but peradventure leg to arms
Or nothing, whichever way,
Their stubborn screaming suggest
Ways of impuissant expressing unanswered request.
Tears of gladness
Moved to elevating joy,
To see again long time lost love,
Surely for ages and time agone
Surprising hugs with all kisses,
Dearest who aforethought cross beyond
But now you are prospering.
Here's the story of Hansel and Gretel
But, again, not like they said
Their's was way too humdrum
So, here's my version, instead
First, their father wasn't a woodcutter
He worked at the laundromat
He took quarters from the scrub boards
To make change and things like that
Hansel and Gretel weren't children
They were midgets from the Wizard of Oz
But this wasn't their first story
They first worked for a guy named Claus
Anyway, the witch was really a witch
That part of the story is true
But, this next part will be a surprise
And this, I promise you
Hansel and Gretel had been casing the joint
To rob that poor witch clean
They were the meanest two kid-lookin' midgets
That anyone had ever seen
Now, the witch was planning on eating them
Well, cause, that's what witches do
You really can't blame her for her cravings
She's just tired of pork rines and stew
She invited them in, they played some cards
It was time to execute her plan
She asked Hansel to check the oven
And she pushed him in the pan
Gretel was watching and knew what to do
As she jumped on the witch's back
Hansel pulled out his crossbow
It was time for him to attack
This next part is weird, you may not believe
But one day, maybe, you will
For while the battle was raging strong
Thru the door walked Dr Phil
"Can't we all just get along?" he said
As he proceded to stop the fight
It took him only a minute or two
To determine which one was right
They agreed to disagree
And go their separate ways
For Dr Phil had come to the rescue
And, again, he saved the day
Four “Golden Girls” seated at a table
Grey streaks our hair, but minds remain stable
Convention is underway
Michael has something to say
He opens our meeting with a fable
It’s about a tortoise that beats a hare
Some of the “fast writers” begin to glare
Joyce, Francine and Barbara know
It takes time for verse to grow
We’re the queens of rewriting; this we swear
Iolanda’s introduced to read her book
“Lava of my Soul,” no gobbledygook
We’re mesmerized by each line
At the end we toast with wine
Joyce says, “Now those words took some time to cook.”
It’s Karen’s turn to read “Silent Whispers”
We see tears falling into John’s whiskers
“Tears of joy,” Francine exclaims
For Karen’s Best Seller fame
Applause rings out from grateful listeners
After the “meet and greet” it’s nearly dawn
The crowd starts to thin as our comrades yawn
Joyce, Francine call it a night
But Barbara still sits upright
We two remain when most others are gone
One poet called us “Late Night Cockroaches”
This indignity did not encroach us
We call ourselves “LNCs”
Awake in wee hours with ease
Waiting for our princes to approach us
That’s when the James Brothers draw near
Peranteau and Fraser, to make it clear
With two erotic writers
LNCs pull “all nighters”
Knowing that we can propose; it’s Leap Year!
*Entry for Michael’s “A Table of Four” contest
At my table: Carolyn Devonshire
Joyce Johnson
Francine Roberts
Barbara Gorelick
A Dream Trip to the Dentist
By Elton Camp
In the reception room you need not stay.
It would be so wrong to cause you delay.
We take patients only one in an hour
So to keep on time is within our power
To us, “appointment” is not just a word
To waste your time is something absurd
If ever we don’t take you in on time
For our work, you don’t owe a dime.
We accept what dental policy will pay
So then you owe nothing else, no way
We think to do that is only fair
It’s so scary sitting in that chair
We have not seen any good yet
To come from building up debt
And if short on money you happen to be
We will gladly provide our services free
Come on back and have a seat
Our kind hygienist can’t be beat
So open up your mouth so wide
Let her please take a look inside
Amazed at what we now see
Everything is fine as can be
Teeth are sparking clean
Finest we have ever seen
Not a bit surprised to say
Not a sign of tooth decay
Gums are healthy and pink
From the teeth do not shrink
Teeth are so pearly white
It’s quite an amazing sight
Chip that had been there for years
Now is growing back, it appears
And for goodness sake
No need an X-ray to take
But find it would be best
Brush and floss a bit less
For you it will be dandy
Go ahead and eat candy
It’s fine on ice to chew
Return in a year or two
A firm hand gives my shoulder a shake
Wife now says, “Time for you to awake.
But, what accounts for that big smile?
Your dentist appointment is in a while.”
"Rise an' shine you lazy cowpokes! Time to saddle up yer hoss!
Time to move them moo-cows to summer range!" yelled th' trail boss!
"You've lolled around here all winter, now it's time to earn yer pay!
Jump in yer jeans, pull on them boots an' let's git 'er underway!"
All winter long they'd grown fat in th' bunkhouse eatin' Cooky's fare,
But knowin' that on that long, dusty trail, grub could be mighty spare!
How they'd long fer good ol' gut-fillin' grub as they wuz mendin' fences,
An' roundin' up them wily dogies roamin' over God's vast expanses!
Come supper time th' cowpunchers would lounge about a blazin' far,
Smokin' roll-yer-owns, chewin' th' fat an' nursin' cuts frum bobbed war!
Thankin' th' Lord fer their grub, Cooky yelled, "Come an' git 'er fellers!
Ain't much, but me an' my ol' Dutch oven done purty good!" he bellers!
Th' menu never varied but they knew better'n to complain about his cuisine,
Er Cooky could be as grumpy as a rattlesnake er a disgruntled wolverine!
Ever' supper consisted uv th' same ol' thing - a classic case uv deja vu:
Beans, spuds, bacon, sour dough biscuits an' a dollop uv mystery stew!
Frum across th' valley a harmonica's melancholy tune wuz heard,
As th' night guard kept a wary vigil an' soothed th' restless herd.
Th' cowpokes dreamt uv a hearty breakfast but they already knew,
It'd be beans, spuds, bacon, sour dough biscuits an' a dollop uv mystery stew!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
I got a part-time job
of which i"m very fond.
It is down at the South Inch
at the local boating pond.
I help to sell the tickets
and call out when they"re done,
and in this sunny weather
it really is quite fun.
There are fifteen rowing boats
and paddlers if you must,
but there are no sailing dinghy"s
the wind here does not gust.
The job it needs attention,
you have a pen and book.
To keep track of everybody,
and you have to look...
to see that all is well
and no one misbehaves.
The waters only three foot deep
but their life you"d have to save.
But on one Saturday,
the pond was really busy
so much going on
my head was really dizzy.
I looked into my book.
What is a man to do.
I could not hurry time
there will always be a queue.
"Number six your time is up"
I called with little choice.
Then looked across the water
as they ignored my voice.
"Number six,"I faintly croaked,
"are you doing fine?"
and then the penny dropped
"In trouble number nine?"
THE 12 ANNO-DUODECIMALISATION PERIODS
Wintric time is now slippopherous and the slithey snowlerimon
Is experiented with the newly-arrived vernality in the air.
His triple anno-duodecimalisation period is in terminfication
Which has megaramifications and blerious implifications bare
For the floracious and faunacious spread of life-and-growthicity
The next few anno-duodecimalisation periods will encertain
The success of the seminal vesicles of herbatorial and floribundial growthity
And the ground-coveration will soon be overspread with leavy-fruitain.
Treedonry, tall and gloribundant shall castigate their shadowsmith
Across meadowfields so mertile and bloductive. Soon the triple
Anno-duodecimalisation of the pre-wintric time will proviso us with
All the beautiflic and delicioned harverted produce from our farmliple:
Making us readified for the oncoming wintric time, a periodontary
Of slippopherous and slithey snowlerimon, coldpainly beyond comparicary.