Long Jocular Poems
Long Jocular Poems. Below are the most popular long Jocular by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Jocular poems by poem length and keyword.
Mr. Bean has made the world go laughing
and if laughter tis the best medicine
then Mr. Bean sure is doctor of laughter
for quite apt is he at appealing humour!
Perhaps the world's best most beloved buffoon
with antics that could beat and defeat any clown or cartoon
King of joke, king of mock
he could send you rolling with laughter
With a serious silly face he played his pranks
to send you laughing ever after.
A funny man who purposely makes slips
or amuses the audience with amusing quips
A man immune to derision and ridicule
for he deliberately prefers to be comic
Funny is to watch him break any rule
for we all know it's just an onscreen antic.
Laugh and laugh, laugh till your sides ached
but watch how he has the last laugh
This jocular chap has mastered the art of comedy
He amuses quite single-handedly without aid or staff.
So before him on your small screen
your attention span for once shan't be mean
Just prepare to broaden that jaw
you're totally free to guffaw
at this engaging man of mock
this deliberate laughing-stock!
Few have not gone into rhapsody
over this funny fellar, King of comedy
So come heal yer malady
The king of jest
Jester's truly best
(I wrote dis last yr n recently i heard n confirmd it thru google too the nice news that mr.Bean converted to Islam. Skeptics had rather doubt it yet im sure d news has some basis. If true then mr.Bean im more yer fan than eva )
~ A Poem for Shavuos ~ *
Two Jews, three opinions
Twenty-nine of us need three minyans *
Yet when we camped at Sinai, all arguments stopped
Jaws in heaven must have dropped
Angels astonished - Not one human complaint?
If they'd blood in their wings, surely they'd faint
What caused this dramatic transformation
from rank division to unification? ...
The divine souls G-d implanted within us *
embraced their source, Divinity Itself
At that juncture, our fragmented souls reunited
Like 'one man with one heart,' crystal-clear sighted
Quarreling stopped, though later to restart
~ For a magic moment, Divine souls not torn apart
______________________________________________
*Notes: 'Shavuos' is the original Hebrew name of the hol-
iday known to Christians by the name of the 'Pentecost.'
Shavuos means 'weeks:' Seven weeks between Passover
and Shavuos. The next (50th) day is the holiday, the 'Pen-
tecost.' ... A 'minyan' is a Jewish prayer quorum, which re-
quires ten men age 13 or over for public prayers. (The
number '29' in the poem therefore introduces a slightly
jocular tone, as by rights it should be 30)... Finally, see
Genesis 2:7, wherein G-d breathes a soul into Adam
through his nostrils.
Written: Apri 28, 2024
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sibilant deceit indeed! with a goal to charm,
A melancholy girl fostered by her father.
Never incite with wisdom, pride, or harm,
I owe it to them; cruel deeds are improper.
I cycle as a moon, enthralled by its pure soul,
As it dances its dulcet arms over me, I scroll.
Explore the placid ocean of ripples in my heart,
I learnt to be sincere and abide flaws apart.
When I'm intrigued, my paradox falters,
I'm fascinated as moon rises and alters.
I'll gladly refill your cup once mine is dry,
I starve to rehydrate, but my soul is shy.
I will come back as soon as I decry a skim,
I am a network of kinships, not a whim.
I prize my solid, pure soul in a jocular state,
If my love is you, let my heart elect your fate.
Cherish gloom as pure serendipity in disarray,
I admire your serenity in a mellifluous display.
If you pick another path, I will wait to love you,
I'm a nemesis; you'll be in awe of my vast hue.
Why do we exist? That's a query I hear quite often
It's jocular with loved ones, according to many
For others, it's a roller coaster of swings and turns
I had never entertained such trivial notions
Yet all I had were fears they couldn't fulfill.
When precisely I ceased to hope, I fail to tell
The goal is to lead a delightful and fulfilled life
I don't step back to dwell on how split I've come
When it's time, I can bury my pain and carry on
To a family who enjoys prying into my private life
"Can you advise a person to lead a typical life?"
While having little to gaze out to, I raged to live
Actually, life has no value if not for a rushing river
Running unabatedly over the difficult terrain
I never found out how or when it escaped my grip
I am currently blind to the future of my life.
Written: June 3rd, 2023
Her brain is taking her away from me.
My best childhood friend.. going home to be with God
Cancer of the brain….now do you see?
And all I can do is pray and bow my head with a nod.
To pen poetry at such trying times as these
I am thousands of miles away and cannot hold her hand.
Poetry.now truly a task done without any ease
Tis a reminder that she will soon walk on God’s land.
Peace will be yours and I will always remember
Swinging on your back porch. our shared joy.
Our walks to Mass,in autumnal Septembers.
This is no time to be jocular,cute, or coy.
It’s my last poem to you..from this life’s street.
Holding a gift from you, a wooden skate with our names on it.
I can only pray,that in heaven we shall again meet.
How much more valuable,than a suave Easter bonnet .
I have written some poetry about how short life is.
Texting,Facebook,emails are not at all real life.
True friends, real family is all that really gives.
Electronic emptiy nonsense..a cause for strife
I have in my hand a tiny wooden skate you sent.
With our names upon it….Joanie and Pangie
My emotions and heart are broken and bent.
The joy to my heart, you held the golden key!
7/11/2023
Not written for a contest but based on the wit and out of the box chutzpa of a ballsy poet. If Shakespeare shakes his finger at me for breaking Sonnet rules, I will tell him I am a Lawless one, and a quill like John's is in my bag of tools.
One Soup poet is a rebellious man
He's a 'Wild Boy,' sung by Duran Duran
Known to break a few rules
Pen and paper, his tools
Lawless' humor is jocular deadpan
Some baffling riddles from the Boston Bard
Might take an inspector from Scotland Yard
He's mugged a metaphor
"Innocent," he then swore!
Be ready to run when John shout's "ENGARD!"
How I weave fancies around my dream date
If time could satisfy some of my whims,
I would, like a sprightly fawn, hop and jump
Jubilant, jocular, joyous, and juvenile!
Between the departing day and the descending night
If it suddenly rains as a bolt from the blue
With no umbrella to shield our heads
How I wish to walk with you
My hands twined around your waist,
With no one else but only you and me.
When the sun hides behind the Western ghats
Bleeding red and waxing pale
How I wish to ramble hand in hand
Along the seashore under the canopy of the sky
Sharing silent thoughts and counting the waves
Lost in our private world, just you and me!
On a bright clear day when the Southern Bay
Like a voluptuous maid lies draped in blue
And its placid surface dotted with sailing boats,
How I wish to get into one
And drift afar to some unknown destination
With no one else but you and me
Somewhere in a sheltered nook,
Screened from the buzzing crowd with a river winding by
And the clear waters snoozing on the white sand,
In a small, sequestered cottage,
Where nightly winds flute on the windowpanes
How I wish to spend a night with only you and me
There as we stand in a tight warm embrace,
When your hot breath falls on the nape of my neck,
And as you pant with passion and call me ‘My love’
How I wish to get enrobed in your mystery
And sail down to the abyss of an unknown experience
When nobody else matters, but only you and me!
…………………………..........................................
Feb.7. 2023
~ Placed First~
My Dream Date Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Anoucheka Gangabissoon
Trees do sway in the bitter-cold breeze, a field full of snow to the naked eye, it does please.
Hark the angel, carol singers do praise his holiness, holly holly on which the child does pierce his finger; the scent of the dog's trail does linger. Many a traveller did avoid the road but the truck driver like Saint Nicolas must deliver his load.
Fire ablaze in every house, left over pie did attract more than one mouse.
A jovial jocular month spent with gratitude in God's giving and grace
where around the tree children do challenge and chase.
Love and laughter to rejoice this year, a baby in a cradle to shed a momentous tear.
Winter wonder did delight, the star lit sky was all so bright.
Where angels on his immaculate conception sing throughout the night, a season in which to celebrate with a welcome heart-rendering reason
Your Indigo Ink, Yes, You
“Great spirits have always encountered
opposition from medicore minds”
Albert Einstein
Your very best poems are about truth, goodness or
beauty!
Yet, ignored, over something... not only ghastly base,
but something mindlessly fruity.
Do not fret if they are ignored, move on and close
the door.
If you are here to be loved and very popular, it
shows in your poetry, which is mostly jocular.
Let others write exactly as they choose.
Get up, read a poet you like, by wearing your
poetic soul shoes.
Why keep reading, only those at the top?
There are thousands rarely read, they are humans
after all, not floor mops!
Ah, those photos on that homepage are so very
deceiving!
Poses of love and great beauty, and then come
their vicious comments~ indeed a very, dark soul
revealing.
Never mind mean cracks at your poems!
These are unloving poets staring at their
contorted faux image.
Under their own cruel mind-domes!
Best we learn from one another.
Than to do all in our power, a good poet’s writ,
to ignore and smother.
Tell me, how great you must feel, when you turn
off your night light.
When some here really do choose to
make of another, a joke and a blight?
Better to support than do all in your power to
smother one another.
Than to prance about here, pretending others are
not your equals or poetry brothers.
Jealousy here? A purely teenage emotion!
It destroys friendships here, and creates a painful
commotion.
I cannot use his name, it would not be right,
But his humor is impressive, classical and a most
appreciated delight.
10/4/2021
Well it doesn’t take someone from Harvard
To get the metaphor of whistling past the graveyard
As Dr. Luke states it and rather obviously
You walk over an unmarked grave obliviously*
The naturalist walks over The Foundation for reason
In an attempt to ridicule that very Foundation
But why as a naturalistic behaviorist
Would you grind when there’s a mill but no grist
You are borrowing the Christian’s capital (yeah I said it)
The ability to reason, but you don't give God the credit
Reason doesn’t grow on trees
Do you need more empirical clarification?
Generalizations can’t be seen with binoculars?
See the truth is something unseen or un-ocular
I don’t say in jest or jocular
Or appeal to Private Monocular
“We can’t give up God because we have laws of grammar”
See! The nut job Nietzsche gets the frustration