Funny Prose Poems | Examples
These Funny Prose poems are examples of Prose poems about Funny. These are the best examples of Prose Funny poems written by international poets.
Jack handed Julie a box of chocolates and launched into a plea for forgiveness.
“I’m SO sorry about that other woman ---”
“TWO women!”
“I’ve changed. I love you. I’ll never cheat again.”
“I forgive you, baby. Let’s have some wine with those chocolates.”
“Hmmm---this wine tastes funny.”
48 words
best friends can keep a secret, when others cannot
They have your back but do not burden you with it
my best friend and I can resume a friendship after ten years
laughing and cutting up as if we saw each other yesterday
No one else understands my family and my circumstance as well
because I do not trust many people, but I totally trust my best friend
We have made history with our antics, and funny stories
Telling them over and over; still laughing, because we know each other.
there was a softness about the maiden that reminded me of a rose
she was elusive, but it made her somehow tantalizing
refined? yes Elegant? oh, my, yes!
She was holding a rose when I first spied her.
she seemed as subtle and sensitive as the rose
She was an artist's delight; her petals soft and delicate.
what is her name? I asked her mother
Lily, she told me.
I want to call her Rose, I said.
Funny you should say that; her grandmother was named Rose.
Casual lion lounges in his 70’s jacket
It is made of velvet, not velveteen
Softer than his mane if you can believe it
We wait for his words of wisdom
He is the king of beasts and of the forest
The waiting goes on for a long time
He has relinquished his rights to hyena
The animal who thinks everything is funny
Who can fault that? Asks the zebra.
More evidence that…
buffoons and clowns always run for office.
I found it behind an old work bench, water stained and curled on the corners, looking as forgotten as an out-of-luck beggar. But like in the beggar's eyes, there was a past that was full of hope and still warm memories. My sister's college collage of collective consolations; hugs from home for the lonely days, those that come on the "in between" years when sometimes we just want to be a kid again. There were half unglued photos of home and vacations, and clips of
Fabian, Elvis, Ricky Nelson, the Beatles, the Stones, and a peace sign. Ha, in the corner, there was an old photo of me kissing her on the cheek (Mom said to) - I was seven and she was five. Funny, I didn't even think she liked me much...
I spotted Winnie’s old yellow boots as I entered her daughter’s home.
They were filled with petunias, Winnie’s favorite flowers.
I hugged all three of her children.
Did you see her boots? One of them asked me.
We put them there for you, Winnie’s granddaughter said.
They all tried to shush her, but that was okay.
I told them every funny story I could think of about Winnie.
It set the tone for her wake, pleasing all of us.
In a pet shop, a female cat fell in love with a male dog. The dog was so irate and said, "Stop licking me or I will eat you!" For many days the cat was crestfallen and silent. She said to herself that a dog can never fall in love with a cat.
One morning, the dog was choking from the food that he ate, and the cat rushed to him. Knowing that the veterinarian was not inside the shop, she went on top of the table and pushed hard a plastic bottle filled with water towards the dog's head. The dog was relieved after being hit by the water-filled bottle.
From that day forward, the dog loved the cat for what she has done for him. Unlike other animals inside the pet shop, it was only the cat that cared for him more than anybody or anything else.
For years our family has tried to make candied apples.
Most of our valiant attempts have ended up as a disaster.
Mine were always the worst, or the funniest.
Depending on the way you look at things.
I usually choose funny.
My daughter should have been an engineer.
She is all about precision and exactness.
She can create a candied apple that deserves its own billboard.
My husband and I marvel at this ability.
Neither of us fathom where she inherited such a gene.
She must be a throwback.
Kraft Macaroni and Cheese and Chef Boy-Ar-Dee boxed pizza
If I had a dollar for every time I ate these two as a child
I could probably buy a desk, a computer, and a lava lamp
If it was not quite enough for all three, maybe I could buy a lava lamp
And beads to fit in my doorway, I do love that seventies look!
And a fake fur chair that yells my name in pink and orange
I would buy hip hugger bell bottoms if there is any extra money.
It is funny how certain foods take you right back to your childhood.
My husband and I cannot even look at a chicken pot pie.
When we were first married, we ate two chicken pot pies
And two frozen macaroni and cheese and half loaf of bread each
For the first two or three years, until our daughter could cook.
Many said that Buster could not be tamed or trusted.
They are the doubters, the naysayers, the negative nettles.
They were fearful of the bear; they let it be known she was insane.
She wanted to have Buster be her friend, to show him her ways.
Lorna is an empath, a psychic, an animal whisperer.
Bear is her power animal;
Buster had been visiting her for twelve years.
She ignored the fearful ones, and joined him in the meadow.
They sat on the edge of flowers and discussed the fears of the others.
I could eat them for you, Buster offered. She gave him a long look.
They laughed and laughed; it was funny. But probably only to them.
People love to believe stupid things. Some of us find it hard to believe stupid things and laugh at those who do, until someone laughs at us for something we believe and somehow didn't realize was stupid.
Shebra was a luxury he could ill afford.
Expensive tastes, and wanted designer clothes.
Her shoes cost him a week’s salary.
But he was tired of paying child support anyway.
She is a ho, one of his friends said.
You are jealous, he answered. She is a call girl.
You have to pay her right?
He refused to say.
Merry Christmas said his friend.
Ho Ho Ho he replied, trying to be funny.
Later regretting that he had bought into the tease.
That will be a hundred and fifty, she told him.
I didn’t even get a kiss, he argued.
Hookers don’t kiss, she said.
But you are a call girl, aren’t you? He asked.
Ho ho ho, she said, winking and holding out her hand.
It was funny at first.
I bought groceries at McDon’s
She switched grocery stores
And began shopping there too.
I made a famous Jell-o salad for neighborhood picnics.
She asked for the recipe and began bringing it too.
Okay. Dokey.
No problem. I can survive this.
She began showing up where ever I was.
The pool, clothing stores, the park.
It is as if she was tracking my phone.
I have a stalker I told people; and I laughed.
After a few months of this
It stopped being a coincidence
And it stopped being funny.
BADSEEDPRESS is a fabricated enterprise.
Zoltan Goliath and Otis Trench are invented characters,
as are all the other players identified herein as having
had a role in the sweet soul seduction of this sad luck,
rum-soaked dame of a book.
The entire contents of this volume is the product
of the imagination of M. Kalavik. It was all his idea.
BADSEEDPRESS accepts no responsibility
for anything other than words on a page,
but we would like to thank the many sponsors
whose advertisements have acted as fertilizer
spread among the lyrical furrows of this fictional funny farm.
Without their support, this project might not have been thought possible.
We’re all just in it for the money.
Brent Scorn
Non-attorney Spokesperson
BADSEEDPRESS
Riding in an airplane
Skiing down snowy slopes
Racing across the ocean
Sliding away from loss
Painting a lovely canvas
Sculpting something nice
Singing to the top of my lungs
Playing guitar all night
Writing a literary novel
Smiling despite the sorrow
Listening to my instincts
Dancing through the rain
Laughing away a heartache
Breathing joy into another
Creating something beautiful
Planting seeds of goodness
Awaking to the starry skies
Drifting to sleep on a lullaby
Haunting the dreams of my true love
And, spreading Marmite on my toast
Marmite Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Natasha L Scragg
August 1, 2021