Funny Spoken Word Poems | Examples
These Funny Spoken Word poems are examples of Spoken Word poems about Funny. These are the best examples of Spoken Word Funny poems written by international poets.
Loving You Is an Art ????
Loving you is an art,
Not just words, not just emotions,
Not just romance.
It is like carving a linocut,
Each stroke, each cut—
Careful, gentle,
So I do not wound the sketch,
The same way I hold your heart,
Responsible not to hurt you.
Loving you is an art,
Like stringing beads with patience.
And when the thread breaks,
And the beads scatter
I do not leave them behind.
I gather them, mend them,Like
The way I would gather your broken pieces
And heal them with love.
Loving you is a design,
A vision that sparks in my mind daily,
A creation I bring to life,
Over and over again.
Loving you... is my masterpiece.
Hi-Choo
Early spring in Corinth and I’m bathing in a pollen shower as fuzzy green seedlings are whisked here and there in the blustery March breeze, I sneeze!!
Remnants of last night’s thunderstorm cruse across the pale blue canvas of the afternoon sky as pine cones fluttering in the breeze make me sneeze, I sneeze, I I I I sneeze!!
Even the old crape Myrtle, pronounced deceased years ago, is budding and basking in the evening glow, her babies preparing to become leaves, and I sneeze sneeze sneeze , I sneeze, I sneeze
As you can see
Pollen damn near
Got the best of me
But let me catch
my breath
and finish my soliloquy
Old Magnolia, washed in Nature’s seasonal offering, regain their forest green state, after a brief bloom, branches swaying with ease and I sneeze sneeze sneeze I sneeze I I sneeze I sneeze
Wew!! Hi Choo!!
Surviving with little money
Life really isn’t funny
Raining even when it’s sunny
Don’t wanna run this rat race
No chance of keeping up pace
Falling on my flat face
But this is my turf
Like nowhere on earth
This is MY place
To defend with my life, so I don’t lose face
The smell of death is stale
Living like the alpha male
Every day is up for sale
Dreading when the phone rings
Know I gotta change things
This is what my brain sings
Seeing other people’s tears
When surrounded by their fears
This is what man hears
Sadness from the knife
Affecting someone’s wife
Causing family strife
Yet another day is done
Lost a daughter or a son
Another victim of the gun
My dream escape was through song
Every day I hope I’m wrong
But I fear my day has gone
Even being told your dope
Doesn’t always help you cope
But I aint giving up the hope
Bad influences to remove
To get back in the groove
Transition is rarely smooth
Find something inside to inspire
To lift the spirit higher
To give and keep the desire
Different life it needs to be
Can I make it, we will see
Change can only come from me
Tonight
I rediscovered
Boulevard of Broken
Dreams on a jaunt through
Glasgow’s October-lit streets. Rain
drippin’ off chin. Momentarily wishing
I was more like I was back then. Funny how
I’m now bolder to touch. This strange & honeyed
melancholia…. how it grins already for each tomorrow.
Jury Duty, such a response ability it's not
this, that is hard for me, as much as my encounter
with folks to or from their court parking lot...
this entire experience is hilarious, both before
or after court; One Spanish lady asks, please sir
where is them alabateors - What did she say - oh sure...
why she meant those 'elevators' - I'm going there myself
on our way a black fellow yells-out "ho-dee- doe fo me"
well, he said 'hold that door' for him, so follow me said, I
ordeal is over, on my way to my car one thing I hear
monback - monback- monback ok you, you can go
I think to myself - 'come-on-back' not till next year...
in my car he was mon-backin' me, now, so leaving
he said at my window sir, spare any change
my car is on 'E' meaning on empty, five bucks ok...
driving away, in my trusty rearview, joyfully, he is wavein'
note: He did leave me his phone number - Fi Fi Fo Fo Fi fi fo
554-4554 on Pennsylvania Avenue - ay!
Quietly whispered
Receiving silent
Emotions kept
Laughing yet
Without voices
Just shown teeth
Thus a funny, the silent poem speaks
QUIETLY WHISPERED THE SILENT POEM
SPEAKS AS HE READS A BOOK
THE PEOPLE LAUGH AND LOOK
7/13/23
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2023©
Poetry is the beauty of the mind
Only the clever can define
It is the dance of the pen
Only the toddlers call it a ten
It is a mystery yet untold
Only revelation can unfold
It is a puzzle
It causes a dazzle
It is a game
Not for the lame
It is a journey
Not so funny
It is a mission
Which gives room for vision
It brings pleasure
Now and ever, it is a treasure
Do you say grace at your meal?
giving thanks to God for your food
recognizing that the Lord provided it
being God who does everything good
God the great creator in the beginning
having made all with His hands
showing all we have is from Him
all the world created in all the lands
Have a think about how food came
everything has a beginning from a seed
that seed grows and grows and grows
all originated by God, all His creed
It's funny how when given a gift
we quite easily can say thank you
but when given no end of gifts
speechless we become, words are few
So let's give our grace always to God
for all we have comes from our provider
be grateful and thankful from our heart
prayerfully looking to your divine minder!
I’m only human
known to have put
my foot in my mouth
more than a few times
it’s why I hesitate to speak up
I fear regretting things I might let out
funny thing ~ I don’t remember once
ever needing to apologize
for saying something nice
AP: 2nd place 2021
To write a tongue twister is not funny mister
I just don’t know where to begin
There’s one that I’ve written with which I’m quite smitten
But I’d had a very large gin...
Workers wrinkles worsen when wind worsens winters worst weathers
If your decision is instant derision
I guess I should try it again
So here is another, I pray to my mother
That your words will not cause me pain
Working writers write written works: Writing workers write workers rights
But too many choices in too many voices
Might just leave some of you floored
So I think one more is plenty before
I leave every one of you bored...
Fierce forest fires frazzle thrushes feathers
So, okay, I’ll brave it and say that’s my fav’rit
I hope that it tangled your tongue
But if that one didn’t but one of them did
It means that my song had been sung
P.S... Freds frozen fingers feed thread through first
7 January 2021
Contest: Tongue Twister Challenge
Sponsor: Joe Sandler
Your words ripped her apart, you are beautiful but they judge her from afar, she walks around with a scarred heart. Her feelings of hating the world , her days of being tormented never led up. The feeling of abuse and abandonment has broken her heart. A knife through the back is how she felt living in the world, you are loved, but they keep on with their ugly words. The bridge she walks, they throw stones to knock her off, why am I so hated in the world?
A look into the mirror she wishes it shatters apart, her hate grow more for the world. The acts of bullying kills the heart, your ugly words wasn't funny at all.
Words can break you, makes you feel low about yourself. Your words can become a beast to somebody thoughts, the sword of the tongue can kill you. Where is the beauty of your words, like a Georgia peach, let your words be sweet to the world. Ugly words kills the heart.
What is this word…?
The word like a hummer that breaks every yolk
The word like glue that seals blessings like a padlock
The word that created heavens and earth when He spoke
The word that conceals believers from their enemies like a cloak
The word like a double edged sword that pierces
Slaying darkness and its forces
The word that regulates behaviour and reinforces
Though some trust in chariots and some in horses
The word is the birth of all sources…of power
It’s sweeter than honey
Nourishing souls like nutrients of a chutney
Giving hearts smiles like there is something funny
So important for life like a kidney
This word was there from the beginning
It was there with God shining
And this word is God himself brightening
I dreamt
I was a big success
a public speaker
much sought after
I was in such high demand
forever invited
to travel the world
One day I was
up north in Nunavut
that’s not too far
from the North Pole
I stepped up to the podium
I looked out at everyone
I froze
unable to
get a word out
I got the giggles
and couldn’t stop
The old tip of imagining
your audience in the buff
always worked for me
so here I had in front of me
sitting ever so quietly
one hundred bare bears
wide eyed
just looking at me
waiting to be
let in
on what
was
so funny
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
An ancestor known as, "Miss Lottie"
Was a New York socialite "hottie"
To her lasting disgrace
She slapped Paul Revere's face
When he invited her to the p-ah-ty
He has nothing left to give.
He was fifty years old and brunt out.
The last ember of a once beautiful firework.
Soft music couldn't do it.
Pills couldn't do it.
His son couldn't do it.
His wife couldn't do it.
Sex couldn't do it.
A beautiful sunset couldn't do it.
A quiet room rarely did it.
Inspiration rarely did it too.
Laughter?
That made him smile.
Even though he had lost the knack to be funny.
The misery he felt each day overwhelmed his senses
With hopelessness.
The crowd still roared.
The sea of hands still showed.
But he was lonely.
A figure more pitiful than his reflection could ever reveal.
There was nowhere for him to go.
He had run out of options.
Life had won and death was the prize.
How he longed for it to be all over.
For reality to turn him into a dream.