Long Laughingstock Poems

Long Laughingstock Poems. Below are the most popular long Laughingstock by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Laughingstock poems by poem length and keyword.


Damn Anticipatory Anxiety Affliction

Damn anticipatory anxiety affliction...
trumps volition (mine) to don employee hat!

Until the grim reaper
whisks yours truly away
common joe just biden his time
chronologically old fogey
(albeit boyish looking goodfella)
at moon shadows he doth bay

meanwhile stricken with
dripping wet sweaty palms,
perhaps attired with
trademark Harris tweed
this August twelfth
two thousand twenty dog day,

viz just the mere thought
to seek part time employment -
cuz I wanna supplement
(social security disability) income
perhaps out of desperation
selling myself short on eBay

unless an anonymous reader
espies adept ace at foreplay
i.e. whereby his linkedin word choice
oft times evokes double entendre
essentially this poetaster
at large concocts gourmet

reasonably rhyming literary cuisine -
thus hip hip hooray
invariably an anonymous
respondent will inveigh
against playful badinage,
and/or perchance some grumpy

humorless cat (woman)
originally whose nine lives spent
housed within San Jose
will take objection with base (sic)
lame ribaldry (mine) laughable
courtesy none other than kkk,

(kooky, klutzy, and kitschy tendency)
who though reformed Caucasian Jew
coon sitter me laughingstock, nevertheless
(modesty notwithstanding)
he brews the best latte
this side of Schwenksville, Pennsylvania,

where whiplashing, madding, and
clamoring crowd fuels melee
along Perkiomen trail
over hills and across Atlantic Ocean
eventually leads to Norway,
which namesake river from “Pakihmomink,”
or “where the cranberries grow.”

Rather than get further
bogged down with inane zeal
I best steer clear of poetic poppycock
courtesy imaginary wheel

thus the following pablum I unveil
nsync with titled malady all to real,
which plight involves hyperhidrosis
quite a debilitating ordeal,

especially when thinking
to pursue gainful employment
emphatically steadfast
and honest think (me) leal
course this humble communicates
 
(hyperbolically) embodiment ideal
if seeking to gain insight how I feel
about myself, a tense body
inept to cartwheel.


Marriage To Alarmingly Ballooning

Marriage to alarmingly ballooning...
dramatically expanding spouse

Eats her weigh out of home and house
unsolicited feedback courtesy
yours truly, she does grouse
quite doubtful, she could pose
for playboy and/or penthouse
returning explicit volley
of trailing appellations lobbed

expletive laced epithets
directed at her husband the louse
in lame retaliation deftly
sparring as he doth rouse
himself out of his vittle catatonic state
thus muenster ring cheeses crust
squeaks (me) meek Mickey Mouse.

When I did pledge troth
after courtship she would not abate
aboot two dozen years ago
(spoiler alert) wheezing
heterosexually straight
half heartedly accepting her

asthma wife sne...
snee...sneezing mate
even then, she exhibited
appetite for consumption
defying four foot eleven
petite size and lightweight.

Now, she eats
non stop round the clock
stationing, lumbering, burgeoning
girth casting dock
shadows analogous to 
edge of night
donning humongous frock
to allow growing room 
for extra buttock

vacuuming any/all 
comestibles in sight
downing, emptying, gulping
refrigerator contents chock a block
nearly suctioning him,
who doth tongue in cheek mock
think apple pie, yet for
grace of dog ad hoc
anchoring spindleshanks laughingstock
skinny chicken legs (mine)

with knees that knock
worse than concentration camp victim,
(this gentile Jewish atheist gently pock
king fun without intent to rock
the casbah, nor ethnically clash
mainly innocent poetic schlock),
nonetheless chicken legs
repurposed to anchor lock
stock and barrel Matthew Scott
madly flapping wings imitating flock

of seagulls to no avail
his flabby baby boomer
body, mum mama
followed dietary strictures touted by
the late Doctor Benjamin McLane Spock,
no matter, I got hoovered
into maw of tee misses,
who instantaneously
spit out awful poppycock.

Premium Member The Fridge

I didn't mind you balling Jack in our sack

Behind my back

But to take the fridge which held the beer

That was low, even for you dear

Now I hear you've dumped Jack, in favour of Mark

Everybody knows, he’s a nark

And what about the beer

Is it true, Mark the nark was shot in the dark

Now you're with Joe

The price of beer, it’s shocking you know

Heard the news, heart attack, poor Joe, and at the point of blow

Way to go Joe, the beer will flow

Is it true, Joe’s hardly dead, and you’re away with Fred

My god, I'm drinking myself dead

Oh no, surely not Fred, he was in his prime

Time gentlemen please, time

Well that sobered me up

You’re living with Mary, quite contrary

That's it, you've crossed the line

I'm the laughingstock in the Rose and Crown

You have finally pushed me over the ridge

For Christ sakes woman

Keep the bloody fridge.
© Paul Bell  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Seek and You Will Find

Is life a psychological and spiritual mess, a being of dismay and chaos,
Misdirected and confused by those of staunch and unwavering bios,
Might have started on a farm, urban home, corporate office, or a college dorm,
Looking for devotees to accept vague ideologies and philosophies like their own?

They stirred up vast doubt, skepticism, uncertainty, distrust, and questions of all kind,
Than principles that would guide, direct, shepherd, shape, and lead to soundness of mind,
That would bring peace and harmony; a grand way of life that is healthy and whole,
You lost focus; you lost courage; you lost hopefulness; you lost confidence; you lost your soul.

Did you cast your life upon that which is destined to disappoint, miss the mark and fail,
And empty rhetoric your buddies constantly and relentlessly wailed,
Or upon that which is eternally and everlasting faithful and true,
That if you accepted, you would be called a laughingstock, a fool, or thinking askew?

Is your mosaic spiritual conceptions satisfying your deep need way down inside,
Is your soul a graffiti wall or a spiritual guide to be applied,
Is your soul just shattered by confusion and has left you empty and cold,
A splattering of abstract work than one of realism or anything worthy to behold?

When facing a fierce raging storm in your mind and heart while dejected, fearful, and forlorn,
Did you go to philosophy, self-help books, or to one who could still the storm?
Do you know the one who can speak to the tempestuous seas and they obey him?
Ever heard of the one who walked on water and could calm the hearts of troubled men?

Let me introduce you to that one who can do for you what you cannot do for yourself.
Learn of him by reading the scriptures, the Bible, find it on many a shelf.
His name is Jesus Christ, Son of God; He and God the Father of the same mind.
Through faith-obedience in Jesus, end of your search for redemption; seek and you will find.
Form: Rhyme

Biological Parents Minted Circa December 1st 1957

Biological parents minted circa December 1st, 1957

Amelie Beth Harris
fresh out womb blurted "ahoy"
melded as genetic
deoxynucleic acid alloy
awkward first time parents

natural affection did employ
Boyce and Harriet Harris
shed tears of joy,
and feted yearly birthdays,

thus much appreciation ye did buoy
bestowed unconditional love,
thus tis impossible mission
to compensate, thus thank... oh boy

so much financial, emotional debt
I Cain never be Abel to repay...
Benjamin McLane Spock
(May 2, 1903 – March 15, 1998)

quickly became Gibraltar rock
Baby and Child Care (1946)
one of the best-selling
volumes in history
mother frequently referenced,

whenever figurative roadblock
dog eared pages testimony
frequency when apprenticed
at tender age very sensitive

if made accidental laughingstock
then in later years came to my defense,
when this younger brother
pitifully relentlessly teased

courtesy daily bullies targeted me
as token "scapegoat"
pitched yours truly into
verbal suffocating deadlock.

Protective "big" sister
not twisted, yet dynamic as twister
(think bodyguard), and during
play school served as kapellmeister

threatening to kick keister
of anyone who so much
as harm hair on my head
tattooing with resultant
cheeky chic bubbling blister.

Well perhaps hyperbolic stock in trade
slight exaggeration regarding above,
though only 407.417 days age gap
between this scribe and his aforesaid

sibling, the psychological maturation
pegged much greater oft times made
eldest sister donned trumpeted role
much higher emotional paygrade
of surrogate mother

quasi maternal aid
amazing thirteen months older
though more frayed
nerves i.e. mine this
middle progeny i.e. me

dependent analogous to preschool grade
kid (taut) with homesickness anxiety inlaid
missing his mommy feigning
happiness as charade.


Premium Member Ole Poppycock

Ole Poppycock said the British clock maker.
While setting his alarm clock which was the building block
of his foundation.He purchased penny stock at four o'clock
and future stock on Wall Street today.

Ole Poppycock said the Dutch soda drink maker.
George Washington did not cut down the Cherry Tree.
He  placed a cuckoo clock under the chopping block,
and becasue of a culture shock purchased  New York Common stock,
at the stock exchange today.

Ole Poppycock said the British Law Maker.
You're only trying to make me the laughingstock of London.
Place your pig's belly on the butcher-block,and play me some acid rock,
before we experience another earthquake aftershock.
Sign your John Hancock and be on your way.

Nonsense Poetry by Kim Robin Edwards
Copyright 2016..ALL rights reserved.

Collapsed Pedestrian Bridge

The new 950-ton bridge would beat
down time dashing to classes cheat
ting vulnerability asper thick traffic 
     putting life at risk, 
     thus laudatory alternative
 
     intending to offer Sweetwater 
     to last a lifetime would make fleet
(installed at Florida International University, 
     with eager pedestrians ready to greet 
crossing grand opening, 
     where local dignitaries didst meet 
     viz Miami-Dade County 
     Saturday (March eleventh 2018) 
witnessing ghastly collapsed 
     Thursday (March fifteenth 2018) 
afternoon onto Southwest Eighth Street. 

An unknown number 
     of fatalities surmised, 
while several others 
     were hospitalized. 

Prior to groundbreaking 
     with placement guised
of the attendant pomp 
     and circumstances exercised
setting cornerstone, 
     the projected 
     general estimation apprised

sans building costs totaled $14.2 million 
and funded as part of a $19.4 million grant 
from the US Department of Transportation. 

The fact sheet boasted the sheer intensity 
comparable to withstand strength of a 
category 5 hurricane, and supposed to last 
for more than 100 years. 

Within the blink of an eye, no ifs ands, 
nor abutments squared with ratiocination 
earning civil engineers bragging rights, 
which boastful, delightful, fanciful stead
fastness touted thwarting titanic tenable 
taxing shocked Katrina and the waves. 

Now only a scattered pile (formerly comp
rising beams footings, and piers) of rein
forced concrete capped with a bent ele
ment defying hallelujahs, karaoke kudos, 
and bobble headed nods,

now impish jinns keep leering, mocking,
and naysaying to fading echoing reverberations
leveled at the laughingstock of an architectural
(duff) feat. Further scrutiny will attempt to cap

chore structural weaknesses. Amidst snapped,
crackled, and popped strewn cables entwined girders
(whose premature destruction) will also warrant
any arresting tell tale signs of unusual stress.

Premium Member My Beauty, My Model

My love, my all
My friend, my soul
When I say I love you
It is not a joke
It's not a sad laughingstock
It is my heart that sings and sows.

My love, my beautiful
My friend, my role modèle
Listen to the murmur of my heart
Listen to the wonder of happiness
You are prettier than spring flowers
You are my heaven and you occupy all my time.

My love, my Muse
You are the woman who amuses me
My friend, my role model
You are obedient and beautiful
You make me live. You make me laugh
Oh! My God, I love your sweet smile.

My love, my goddess
My friend, my happiness
You are my everything and my hope
You are my beautiful role model and my dark angel
You are my love and my all
You are my friend and my soul.

P.S. Translation of “Mon Amour, Ma Modèle” 
By Hébert Logerie 

Copyright © January 2023, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.

Aah How Great the Taste of Water

Aah... how great the taste of water...

After lounging in bed until
late morning/early afternoon
we (the missus and I) felt restless
as garden variety buffoon
or think chrysalis itching

to escape encased within cocoon
nevertheless, she mustered hubby
long since retired dragoon
late morning/early after light
clothing he must post haste festoon
he protested against testing

comfort zone merely donning galloon
his self conscious morphology
declaimed repeating honeymoon
embarrassing circumstance,
when caricature artist accentuated

pitiful spindle shanks published
front page see national lampoon
most recent issue or possibly
toothpick legs ought be printed June
a boot six days hence excluding

counting Memorial Day 2020
whereby barenaked ladies
(spouse included) unwittingly ironically,
farcically, and comically forced
skinny dipping under full moon

after newly bride & groom
pledged troth unwittingly nudist beach
entered momentarily devoid
of swimmers, who suddenly at noon
witnessed madding crowd
momentarily oblivious to laughingstock,

one after another burst out guffawing
(at my expense) at picayune
sorry/lame excuse for male
adult *****sapiens peculiar physique
courtesy anorexia nervosa

(when thirteen years old), I caused ruin
permanently stunting psychological
and physical characteristics,
for better part of existence
(mein kampf) uttered lamentable tune.

Absolute zero self worth (the
big goose egg) matter of fact will
state being earnest and frank
going on walk thru Schwenksville
thought person in every
passing vehicle (quite brisk traffic) rill

lee mocked appearance when
espying long haired pencil neck
geek fortunately blessed with
few gray strands deliberately colored via quill
to ad some convincing heft
to boyish good looks, though mill
stone metaphor linkedin with

living little approaching over hill
soon petering into becoming old
and senile, nope never got fill
of teenage romance, I started
dating during early twenties
deterrents to integrate among

including sounding think duckbill
nasal honking, and even hot spell
temps spiking high eighties/
low nineties dressed head
to foot ready for big chill,
especially cuz dehydration less likely.

Marriage To Alarmingly Ballooning

Marriage to alarmingly ballooning...

dramatically expanding spouse,
when adorning buttons 
pop off undersized blouse
which spurs yours truly to grouse,
and ruffle mine tail feathers 
while listening to Scheherazade.

Eats her weigh out of home and house
unsolicited feedback courtesy
quite doubtful, she could pose
for playboy and/or penthouse
returning explicit volley
of trailing appellations lobbed

expletive laced epithets
directed at her husband the louse
in lame retaliation deftly
sparring as he doth rouse
himself out of his vittle catatonic state
thus muenster ring cheeses crust
squeaks (me) meek Mickey Mouse.

When I did pledge troth
after courtship she would not abate
aboot two plus dozen years ago
(spoiler alert) wheezing
heterosexually straight
half heartedly accepting her

asthma wife sne...
snee...sneezing mate
even then, she exhibited
appetite for consumption
defying four foot eleven
petite size then, a score 
plus quarter years ago lightweight
possessed cute figure.

Now, she eats
non stop while rocking round the clock
stationing, lumbering, burgeoning
girth casting dock
shadows analogous to 
edge of night
donning humongous frock
to allow growing room 
for extra buttock

vacuuming any/all 
comestibles in sight
downing, emptying, gulping
refrigerator contents chock a block
nearly suctioning him,
who doth tongue in cheek mock
think apple pie, yet for
grace of dog ad hoc
anchoring spindleshanks laughingstock
skinny chicken legs (mine)

with knees that knock
worse than concentration camp victim,
(this gentile Jewish atheist gently pock
king fun without intent to rock
the casbah, nor ethnically clash
mainly innocent poetic schlock),
nonetheless chicken legs
repurposed to anchor lock
stock and barrel Matthew Scott
madly flapping wings imitating flock

of seagulls to no avail
this shabby not so chic flabby baby boomer
body, mum mama 
(deceased eighteen plus years)
followed dietary strictures touted by
the late Doctor Benjamin McLane Spock,
no matter, I got hoovered
into maw of tee misses,
who instantaneously
spit out awful poppycock.
Form: Rhyme

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