Long Sense of humour Poems

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


Premium Member My invisible friend

I have a sweet friend,
I cannot see
Who has become so dear to me,
We have similar points of view
Share a sense of humour, too,
I admire her for her wit and charm,
honest opinions
Without causing harm
To those who disagree

She is compassionate and wise,
Kindness flows from her clear eyes.
She likes to call a spade a spade,
That is why our friendship stayed
And will until,
Time stands still.

Time is catching up with me,
I am much older than she.
If I seem to be going off the track
It is just a matter of fact
Age is just a number,
Not an issue,

My friend and I
Have never met
She is invisible to me
It would be lovely to meet
And chat endlessly over a cup of tea
Sadly, this cannot happen
As we live miles apart
I do not need to see Deb M's face
As I can see it in her Heart.

Keep on writing your excellent poetry, Deb. X
Form: Rhyme


Hitler Day

the long day and Hitler

It is Christmas Eve the TV has nothing to offer but sentimental 
crap, where the rich rescue a Christmas for the poor and everyone 
in the park and sing while bells chime; no one has bored anyone 
by pointing out that it is Jesus’s birthday today.
Flicking through the computer’s many sites, I came across Hitler’s
drawing of Father Christmas, a haunted face casting a side glance 
not sure, if someone is making fun of him, the eyes also tell us of doubt
over his profession as a clown.
Hitler didn’t travel much, once he stayed in Liverpool for two years
worked as a waiter serving bangers and mash to the local population
the famous sense of humour from that place didn’t rub off on him.
He left, and there was a rumour of him and a pregnant scullery maid.
The next time he journeyed abroad, he went to Paris to see the usual
tourist sites, he didn’t enjoy Paris much took the first train home back
to his mountain retreat, where he played with his dog, went for long walks
and lived in peace until the bombing began.
© Jan Hansen  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Cyber Sister and Brother

Started writing poetry then joined Poetry Soup 
When submitting a poem I’m really cock a hoop 
Have a cyber brother I did meet on line 
Think he's quite amazing his poetry's divine 

He said one day we were separated at birth 
His comment amused me and filled me with mirth 
Soon was confirmed we certainly were twins 
Both write silly poetry and both have hairy chins

My cyber sister Jan started my big old heart a-ticking
Since entering my life it's sure been a-clicking
Wake up each morning can't wait for sister Jan 
Even check my inbox before going to the can

She never disappoints though we're an ocean apart 
Start's my motor racing, got a hold of my heart 
Haven't figured out why I deserve such a friend 
Separated at birth we'll be friends to the end

Noticed on some comments people call him ‘Kenny’ 
He’d love to sing with Dolly – I guess he’s one of many 
Jack and Dolly’s greatest hits I see it in my mind 
But Cathie said no, I guess she’s being real kind 

From Jack’s picture, think he’s more like a Santa 
We get on great as bro and sis with much silly banter 
I’m so very fortunate to find my cyber brother 
If I had to choose one I couldn’t wish for another 

It's a well known fact, Brits lack a sense of humour
Sister Jan sure puts a kibosh on that silly rumour
She makes me cackle and wet my pantaloons
Sometimes I snort like a silly old buffoon

At my ripe old age of fifty-eight plus twenty
Things don't work well, I have heartburn a plenty
But the heartburn I have is caused by my love
For dear sister Jan's given my heart a big shove


Collaboration between J Allison and J Ellison

© Jack Ellison 2014
Form: Quatrain

The Irony of Growing Old

If you find yourself classed as being old, 
You may have in moments more lucid,
Looked at your situation from a rational point of view,
And taken the time to write down your thoughts,
In the for and against column,
Regarding how you feel about being classed as old,
And the benefits, or lack thereof, you see in the situation.

I tried that once but all it gave me was a headache,
So, I don't recommend you try, 
Unless you have a warped sense of humour,
That allows you to laugh at life's little ironies,
For instance, why is it that, at the time of life,
When we have seemingly got the bigger picture in Focus,
And think we have developed a plausible theory,
On what life is all about,
We find our horizon shrinking, 
Faster than melting Ice Caps, 
Or retreating jungles.
Form: Imagism

And I Am Not Ambitious

See people think that money 
determines what we’re worth 
I just find it funny 
I’ve never had that thirst 

Your status and your stature 
places you above the worst 
but I don’t think it factors 
a job does not come first 

It doesn’t make you interesting, 
attractive or desired 
it doesn’t change your social scene 
just means you are inspired 

But if you are content 
climbing up the ladder 
Unsatisfied unless 
pockets are getting fatter 

Buying superficial items, 
temporarily desired
friends, really users, 
dictating who gets fired

The more you have to offer, 
the more you meet a liar 
these people will not bother 
the day after you’ve retired 

If you have what people need, 
you have a sense that you succeed 
You’ll never find that I agree, 
they act false, it’s done for need 

I think I’d be happier 
living without a thing
Surrounded by caring people 
who are interesting 

Value in a sense of humour 
and a girl I think is hot
the value of a social scene 
beats money or a job

you may think you’re better 
buying things that  I cannot 
I don’t have an emptiness 
or need to fill the slot

you value employment stature, 
you haven’t got a lot
overcompensating for a longing 
One you have not got 

life without an actual life 
is life without a plot 
who needs superficial aims 
for treatment that will rot
© Nick Trim  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member Pleasant Sense of Humour

Wholesome humour 
reverberates freedom mirth
shared in the family of joy-filled home
making us have a taste of heaven on earth...

Daddy’s jokes champion laughter 
easing gloom of loss for triumph-birth 
sometimes his riddles keep us chuckling
as his cheerful life enigmas we try to unearth...

Mama’s sense of humour is undeniably funny
letting us praise her midst warmth of fellowship hearth
oh, how I miss those exuberant times
along my reflection of gladness-values' worth.

As we rejoice in the Lord* always
good sense of humour is never a dearth
since it "blunts the sharp blades of reality"
while making us thankful to God for our divine jubilant perth.

June 28, 2025
*Philippians 4:4 Rejoice in the Lord alway: and again I say, Rejoice.
2nd place, "A Good Sense Of Humour Blunts The Sharp Blades Of Reality" Poetry Writing Contest	Sponsored by Natasha L Scragg; judged on /30/2025

Premium Member I am thankful for

I am thankful for the surgeon who saved my husband’s life
Without his intervention I could have been a grieving wife
I admit that I detested reading poetry in my younger days
Shakespeare’s works bored me; I still can’t give them praise!
 
I am thankful that I began writing at a time of awful stress
My husband was in surgery, my fears I could not suppress
I started to enjoy poetry, and I have embraced this change
The fact I adore writing poems, I still find pretty strange!
 
I am thankful for the pal who urged me to join Poetry Soup
She loved my sense of humour, and my many poems on poop
I’m blessed with many ‘souper’ pals, and want folk to know it
This self confessed poetry hater is now a twice published poet!
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Men You Definitely Wouldn'T Want To Date - Part 1

I once dated a pilot …
We both had our head in the clouds
Our relationship lead to a lot of turbulence - 
I guess it never really got off the ground!

I once dated a glazier…
He thought I would be putty in his hands
But I could see right through him…
He was constantly smashed

I once dated an undertaker…
He knew he had stiff competition
I couldn’t cope - he was always ‘coffin’ when he picked me up in his hearse
He had no sense of humour in fact he was dead boring

I once dated an angler
The thought he was a real catch…
But the scales soon fell from my eyes
As he was obsessed with his flies

I once dated a footballer
He thought he could score with me
Told me he had great tackle…
But it was just a load of balls

I once dated a fishmonger…
He thought he was cod’s gift to women
He invited me back to his plaice…
Where I found out he was really a cold fish

Submitted to 101 poems in a row 
Sponsored by PD Linda:-)

15th April 2016

My First Suicidal Dream

And there I was
With the future on my palm
Success on my lips 
In such a way that I could taste it
Achievements on my wall
My mom was proudest

Then it came
Hit my immune system
And swept away my sensitivity 
Murdered my manners
And killed my sense of humour
Respect became a fairytale

As it flowed from the bottle to my tongue
I couldn't feel a thing
In such a way that Vodka became the sweetest
Liquid on my taste buds
I couldn't stop talking

It was my thing 
You know that guy who's always surrounded
Because what came out of his mouth
Made people taste success

But it was different
I had a lot in mind 
I couldn't stop 
Until it got out of hand
I could barely walk
They tried to assist, but I was stubborn
And didn't want to listen to anyone

I was drunk
They dragged me into my room
And locked me inside
Because they couldn't handle my noise
Only if they new, that all I needed was love
To be loved and appreciated by my surroundings

I couldn't handle the pressure of my thoughts
I took a marker and wrote on the wall
"I'm messed up, I needed love but all
I got was betrayals and back stabbing friends"0
Then hung myself
Form: Lyric

Premium Member My Favourite Teacher

University was intimidating at sixteen,
But I decided to take the plunge, and  join anyway,
A passionate bookworm me, fond of reading and writing
Prepared to leap in an ocean of knowledge!

First few days were exciting, joyful, but unsettling,
Until I found the irresistible presence of an amazing teacher,
Who with his sense of humour and booming voice
Won hearts of many, in an instant, no wonder mine!

He taught us literature - Charles Lamb and Eliot,
He taught us Virginia Woolfe, the mysterious woman writer,
He introduced us to her unique writing style - stream of consciousness…
I was captivated and got immersed in the world of creativity! 

Literature, both prose and poetry alike, was my passion,
Hours and hours passed I stayed completely hypnotized
Listening him recite, the most compelling lines,
As if those powerful lines belonged to him - he was the owner !

A tragedy struck in my third year, when
The professor was going on a leave, and mentioned surgery,
But the next day we were informed he was no more,
This incredible personality had left this earth for a heavenly abode!

That was the first time I encountered death very closely,
And was shattered...losing him was heartbreaking, an irreplaceable void,
I felt his absence for a very long time, even now I do,
He left a lasting impression on the way I find solace in literature!

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