Sarcasm Poems - Poems about Sarcasm

She’s at it again. Wasting my ink staging yet another death. I draft her crimson melodramas with third-hand metaphors as she sips on ‘hope’ like tonic laced with rust and wears ‘moor’ like thrift-store perfume. I thread her June into forced sonnets (poor things), before her gin drowned the meter in proofed regret. Even a pen gets impatient. Sometimes she pauses, as though it might save her— I...

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My hasty steps echo on the cracked stone tile, before the bus door hisses shut—Late again. "It's a wonderful life," the clouds sing in chorus. Their church choir harmony almost offensive, if I didn't know, they truly believe life is lullabies and steaming apple tea. Swear-soaked hair clings to my neck. I call these ember days: when smoldering urban air chokes— Yet the clouds drift, marshmallow white— Like porcelain...

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For humans, birth comes from death Death leads to a new life Life good or bad, it can be Be it savory or bitter, life has an end An end that furies some Some see that finish as delight Delighted is a bird feeding on ants Ants in turn devour a dead bird Birds and ants need to understand Understand the irony of life...

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I can’t avoid wounding others’ hearts with my words; oftentimes with sarcasm I do forget that what for me is jest ...

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Stare at the pen you got, Although your brain suffering from a drought, Thinking about a revolutionary theme, Then write the poem in your dream. You got the theme, now pick your mighty pen, And remember how you wrote, that poem back then. Just think of two lines and then go with the flow, How would you...

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This rhyme may seem strange but each word's truly equal Now Beetle's tale's done no need for a sequel. They'd chat by the teazel of matters so lethal Of sequels and prequels and justice so penal. In fields green and fetal past signs with a decal He'd meet Sheetal the Beadle who spoke of things fecal. With eyes prehensile he'd spot...

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I do not like sarcasm in humans I believe it comes from a lack of self esteem Trying to belittle and embarrass others In anattempt to feel superior it would seem Not a redeeming or kind quality Saying goes ‘Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit’ I tend to think sarcastic humans suffer with constipation Thus, they are full of...

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Sarcasm’s the lowest form of wit But what should be the highest form Still cannot be defined, isn’t it A harder matter to conform? Consequently, its lack of wit About sarcasm: there’s no contest No worth contender to defeat And so the lowest is the best. ...

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If I ever die, come to my grave to bestow blossoms And add grief to condolencing customs I’ll embrace your flowers, because I never did, being alive Or I should say, your flowers waited for my death to arrive My heart does not desire to see you wail Not even God will hear your rail Come and plant the flowers on...

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Forgive me For I have sinned in my tenacity to challenge you on the battlefield of morality. Forgive me For offending your duplicity with my transparency. Forgive me While you carouse with your unquenchable lies ...

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A competitive poet with ego galore is always "one upping" to even some score. They disguise their sarcasm in metaphors. Most of the time I politely ignore as no one needs a poetry war....

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Overheard in The Old Folks' Home: Wanna play Euchre? Why, no . . . would you like to herd cats?...

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I cackle and I giggle I'm a friendly sort of gal And when I’m quite excited I'll give a little twirl. Why would all this be funny As It's simply who I am Just a smart and chatty lady Not a sour old boring man? The job I do is tiresome Cleaning up after my boss Helping prompt him and remind him For he's often at...

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I'm falling like a piano off the top of a building, You know, the one that lands directly on someone's head As they're walking by quietly meddling I crash into a million pieces with no warnings to be said Wooden splinters, wires snap, keys clatter across the crosswalk SMACK Pain engulfs you and everything goes black Confused, you gawk At the mangled mess...

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I'm senile, demented, a has been, a dud, At least that's the story, the Republican fad, Yet little they know in their haste to throw dirt, That they're helping my cause with their views so absurd. Each arrow they fly with anger and speed Is akin to a child that as yet doesn't read, It has no direction it lands off...

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