Long Guffawing Poems
Long Guffawing Poems. Below are the most popular long Guffawing by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Guffawing poems by poem length and keyword.
Twittered Via Chilled Wren
At Valley Forge, Pennsylvania
Prior carte blanche to confessing illicit
extra-marital affair
I embolden tomb ache
elicit, and baldly bare
faced laid out some
of the sordid details clear
embarrassed at one escapade
in particular constituting dear
peppy's questing randy romping caper
necessitating vigilance 'ere
a park ranger, (or other unsuspecting
winter weather way
Farer attired in gear
adequately bundled
cold as a witch's tit
seasoned trooper)
reluctantly repeated here
(unforgettable if only be
cause this "FAKE" Casanova ace
thee Missus i.e.wife)
did conversationally chase
beseeched, hen pecked,
and implored me NOT to erase
boot to recount with (itty bitty)
Monty Python glory, a straight face,
that one particular amazingly grace
obviously penned up,
and not in the write
mind (pre poetry daze),
which scurrilous anecdote
did (and still does) in vite
guffawing, sans
peculiar public philandering,
with atavistic cave man
designs tried to unite
where daunting phallus spite
confronting Arctic Vortex when right
lee let loose from pants
froze like a little popsicle quite
purposely remained flaccid
leaving me in a penile plight
when trying to hump
(standing up like a good Knight
comically ridiculous travesty)
With Barbara B****, light
of adventurous Green Beret spirit, the
Unabashed MILF about average height
fifty years, whose busty bosom
silicone breast implants
tell tale viz radiation
and chemo therapy fight
(resulting from post
Ductal Carcinoma in situ)
needless to tell
nary an erectile spell
Asper tinker soldier
tailor spy didst quell
basic animal instinct,
and feral gonadal horniness
with intent to consummate sexual intercourse
according tummy ought to occur,
cuz that blustery air
mirroring said day when hell
nearly froze over invoking
intervention from Cain and/or Abel.
Thus when prick remained
limp and nearly frost bitten
(at a boulder christened cock rock),
aye frostily smitten
slogging wet sneakers, thru
knee high snow...now, no mo' tubby written.
Form:
Sand flows much too quickly in that goldarn hour glass
I'm no spring chicken, but I'll have to take a pass
If a guy thinks he rocks
Wearing fuzzy socks and crocs
That nerdy look is just too dorky for this lass
I've had lots of men flirt with me throughout the years
But one dressed like that and I'd be laughing with tears
He'd make an impression
And from my expression
He'd be very embarrassed by guffawing jeers
There's a rumor about Batman going around
When he saw Robin wearing socks and crocs in town
He swatted him with a "ZONK!"
"Why are ya dressed like a punk?"
"Take those hideous things off or you're going down!!"
I've always admired a man who has self respect
One who dresses with class and style, I'd not reject
I'd call him a silver fox
In well-shined shoes, he walks
But in fuzzy socks and crocs, he'd look train wrecked!
Guys, if you want a lady's provocative glance
Invite her to dinner and then share a slow dance
But remember that your shoes
Will give her the helpful clues
She requires to let your flirting lead to romance
June 10th, 2021
Fuzzy Socks and Crocs Contest
Sponsored by: Francine Roberts
***********************'
……………….OH! My, my - :)
……...…Here’s One Sunny Smiley-
…….In these times as we need to be
….How can you be grim intense grumpy
.I mean look at any grinning monkey Oops-
In good spirit; I do not mean to be offending
In this era, humans express themselves happy
Cheers! You’re on screen: Spread happiness
It’s your digital responsibility: Thy social footprint
Spread Light n Joy; You just returned from dentist
Buddha smiled; at least once; Jesus was dead pan!
Sorry about Jesus, but Barabbas wears- A big smile
I checked Wiki, there is A portrait- Of Barabbas
Seems as the photo was taken with A selfie stick
Shankara-CharyA; ever placid None saw him grin
Ok Gandhi: Was caught guffawing; How about-
Mozart, Plato, Aristotle,Van Gogh; Stoic looks
Didn’t they smile? Do you notice OurTagore
And that weirdo Einstein: so unfit so unsocial
.These guys had no idea of upcoming future
…Silly. They just did not know how to selfie.
...There is a surprise hidden in this write;
…..In this Concrete Poetry paragraph;
…….If you notice A Sunny Smile;
….…Click the share button
…….and Smile.
The town which oozed the plain and lacklustre held them in a judo grip but by the same token itself seemed to become slyly going into step by step morph contraction.
“Donkeys are symbolic to a vast extent.
They exude such, indeed much ken.
Are they guffawing at us?
But just as you and I had our first encounter as children when on a short trip with our parents.
It was one of the few forms of entertainment available in this mystery shroud of a spot.
Where disposable income might be too easily disposed of.”
Both Nigella and Nigel found that ever since they met whilst nourishing the donkey, this donkey, its Mise en scene, its portentous presence had this uncanny knack of pursuit of both of them.
The strangest coincidences.
Idioms, expressions, the way people interacted, the synonyms for donkey in this town created a situation where the word donkey and a donkey’s environs, and other creatures in the habitat had this hypnotising invisible secretive yet insidious skulk.
“Have you even sensed, Nigella,a disconcerting shift and shunt this isolated district, the size, there has been a slow exit to boot. On boot.
Does it have its own booty?
We both smirk at that one.
Even as we interact there is this intended or unintended prank simmering….somewhere.
As if we might be shoehorned into a loosely scheduled drama.”
Nigel and nigella often mused and bandied about words asinine and their variants.
But devoid of concrete proposal or narrative life pulse in this strangeville of a town that was now a drift sand physically and in terms of folks who no longer existed resembled an abstruse puzzle when it shouldn't
Foremost On My Bucket List?
Yo yo ma...though your absence
doth suddenly cause me woe,
no matter parting with
many bittersweet sorrows
long since consciousness unstrung
more'n fourteen plus years ago,
the last surviving Kuritsky
grim reaper enviously eventually snatched,
outliving demise of my Uncle Paul,
your once favorite sibling and only bro
tis grief that rankles, shackles, torments...,
thus caw zing such poetic twittering I crow
yea, this sole son bare knuckles
scraping along without dough
suddenly riven with mortal anguish -
worse fate than death - or bloated ego
willpower to live life to the max
hardened ice floe
despite promising futures
regarding thee deux daughters
that doth find me to glow
my spirit analogous to santa
deprived of his cheery, hearty
guffawing, and merry ho ho ho
yours truly seems condemned
to suffer, a worse fate
than freezing during whiteout
blizzard conditions barring
access to igloo,
brutally cold as Jupiter's Io
spirit felled by juggernaut, no
joking hence I don't feel Jew
bull, ah if yours truly knew
thee torturous emotional state threw
out every fiber upon
last fading memory...of you
unfairly condemned to suffer,
yes my lack of loo
cre immaterial, whence death
stole thee to realm afterlife queue
no doubt, a welcome reprieve aye rue
versus less cruel fate,
viz prolonged illness
comeuppance impales me
body, mind and askew
being pitched, where
adventurousness gungho fear slew,
feeling buzz with aliveness
(akin to David and Goliath)
unable to shake melancholy blue
nostalgic for underworld view
where cessation will find me
inaudibly coffin with a whew!
On the day of your party
Please be sure to invite
The Drunken Clown.
He offers steady humor
At a pace everyone can measure.
His drinks, give love and laughter ,
his expressions: love and empathy.
In a graded lawn he falls and tumbles,
His eyes red and bleeding,
Look to him to point and laugh.
Our drunken clown gets his payment
In full, pursuing the right wingers,
And guffawing with the left.
His sincerity bobbles in an ocean of booze.
Cheers and Slaintè to our drunken clown.
Salud, and Prost!
To our home
And I sleep the sleep
Of a thousand filtered souls,
In ungracious betterment,
And a hope to die by my own hand.
Vicious visions of a youth undocumented,
And a prayer I never have the balls to do it.
There was a little girl I knew
Whose smile so brightly grew
She listened to her Mom and Dad
Was always good and never bad
Once, she cleaned the oven interior
But, soon was feeling quite inferior
Her scrubbing and rubbing concluded
With her so sure she had been deluded
Nothing she did made the oven clean
Bringing its heart to such a great sheen
Finally, she asked her Mom for advice
Sure she’d take it no matter the price
Mom said, “Put some elbow grease in it”
So off she went to find the grime grit
It was only moments before she discovered
Her parents guffawing until they’d recovered
Make Me Laugh with Some Humor - Any Form - New Poems Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Tania Kitchin
November 23, 2020
This story happened back in the 70’s before there was any knowledge of a product called Elbow Grease
They are all laughing and guffawing.
But they do not read the books I do.
And they do not have my heartfelt messages.
The ones that are so absolute
That I know what I know without knowing how
Yet I do know. Verification comes in goosebumps.
It is an inner knowing none of them have.
I do not tell them either
For it is something else they would laugh about.
What is going on? I ask them.
John thinks aliens are real, Tim says.
They explode into enormous carnival rides of laughter.
John gets mad and huffs off. I follow him.
Come on back! Someone yells. I ignore this.
I think we do have aliens I tell him. He says “yeah, right.”
Don’t bother, an inner voice says, but I ignore it.
I have thought it for a long time, I say.
He says something means and shoves off.
An inner voice says “told you.”
Yes, I knew better.
I had been trying to get someone to listen for the past ten years.
It is an inner knowing that aliens do exist.
My neck saturates itself with goosebumps
Verifying that aliens do exist.
That is how I know.
Jack and John
went up the hill
to make us all a'giggle
They won't calm down
and when they clown
Our bellies are a'jiggle
A lim-er-ick
will do the trick
to get us all a'laughing
they write so well
each rhyme...a spell
That gets us all guffawing
They write of "wind",
they write of poop,
Each one a silly ditty
but here's the deal
These two are real
Their writes are really witty
Now Jack and John
just banter on
and comment to each other
They like to please
Oh, how they tease
As "funnies" they uncover!!
~~~~~~The END!!!!~~~~~
For Casarah Nance's 101 contest
September 9, 2015
Yes....The END is part of the word count! ;)
Moonlight filters through the tree limbs
Leaving silhouettes of night phenomena
Just above the curb of the road there hymns
The guffawing of a nocturnal feathered fauna
Wearing a mask of colorful plumage
With eyes so round and bright they glimmer
Showing the readiness of true courage
The shadow bird is definitely not a bawler
As only a sideways glimpse coincides
I see the beautiful owl take to flight
Avoiding my gaze as it quietly glides
Hooting at a distant friend of the night
Will this beautiful bird be back again?
Or will only the night see it then?
Written on July 29th, 2014
For: Night Owl - Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Kelly Deschler