It started off as a domestic
Nothing new in that
With one word borrowing another
The usual case of tit for tat
Men are not so well versed with verbals
While their better halves have words to burn
Yet her sharp and stinging words
No headway were making to take him down
Until she threw in the dynamite ,"You're driving me mad!"
An opportunity he should have done better to resist
Fool that he was ,he just could not let his flippant riposte
Be missed
And out it came, "It's just a short drive."
His convalescence is going well
Froggy went a courtin',
"Ribbit," he did sing,
altho' singing weren't his thing,
more like the punchline to a joke,
'Please don't smoke or I might croak.'
In the deep end of the pond
true love was his goal,
and by the dawn help to spawn
a few more tadpole souls.
Hopped on to a water lily
where he espied
a fine-looking froggy filly,
and in her mouth a red, red rose,
but wait, something's amiss,
one quick kiss and he froze...
just when he had it in the bag,
oh what a shame, ain't it silly,
our frogly friend hit a snag —
for the she was a he dressed in drag.
The first thing I heard you say
wasn’t directed toward me
somehow
it drew me in like a frail fish on a thin fishing line
Your actions slowly progressed from tender to aggressive
The months turned into a punchline;
they ended quickly, but seemed to last forever an eternity
I take the world “punchline” to heart-
you lifted your last PUNCH at the fishing LINE that i was drawn in on
It snapped
somehow
i was drawn back in again, and again, and again...
months seemed to last years
I was only getting weaker
Feelings faded
I built up the courage to look at you one last time
then...
i took a leap of faith
I jumped off the dock
into a different pond
I slowly gained my fins back
I found a strength I had never known
now there is no need for a punchline-
the story of me and you may of ended,
but the everlasting memories will never take a leap of faith
they are here to stay
in my mind
forever
and ever
and ever...
They say, "There's a time for everything"
But this isn't a time for anything
Too very interesting
- Wait, please;
Don't leave me!
I'm just kidding!
When we take our final breaths,
I hear we finally figure it all out.
When God gets to the punchline,
we laugh right out loud.
Everything seems to make sense
just when it’s about to change.
I’m told it’s all worth savin’
once it goes up in flames.
When we trade this existence,
you better leave more behind than regret.
Or odds are no one will be there
to read your death certificate.
When the truth finally reveals itself,
it says it’s been there all along.
But before you can introduce it,
it'll already be gone.
But we’ll all laugh without pain
at least one more time.
Cuz God’s got the greatest sense of humor
and we’re waiting on the punchline.
I know you know I saw you,
think you wanted to be seen,
yet, I don't recognize you,
don't know what your presence means.
The stone that rolls on endlessly,
they say won't gather moss,
but how does that account for
my helpless sense of loss?
His sense of humor's wicked,
He whose name we all invoke.
I must have missed the punchline,
'cause I never got the joke.
©Danielle White
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.