As happiness now, Johnson thunk,
Requires that a fellow be drunk,
Pursuing the happy,
A literate chappy,
So happy became that he stunk.
Have you ever been drunk,
and submersed in a funk,
as if trapped in a trunk
but then asked to write junk
in a poem which stunk
though your mind has been shrunk
by a psychotic monk
who’s been beaten punch-drunk
and if not a slam dunk
as a poet you’ll flunk?
Beauty contest (edited)
Trolls often get bad press
I met a troll sitting under a bridge
looking sad
he was kicked out of the mountain
because it had two eyes
normal trolls have only one eye
planted on the forehead
Worst of all, the unfortunate troll didn't
had a tree stuck in his long nose, ducks under
water inhale mightily and
catch trout
Goats grazing at the bank
of the stream,
but the sad troll had a phobia against
against horns
besides, he didn't like the way they stunk
Our troll wore soft straw shoes
I suggested he make indoor shoes
for farmers's wives, sell them and
be famous
He did so well that a rose bush grew on his long nose
the drawback was he could no longer
catch trout
When other trolls heard of this, he was
invited inside the mountain because
trolls to like soft shoes and roses
A band of comrades rather strange I think you will agree
This oddball bunch together shared a commonality…
The panda didn’t pander to the niceties of style
He wore his usual coat which he had done for quite some while
The zebra was a Libra with an eye for what’s in fashion
She loved the skin she’s swaddled in and flaunted it with passion
The badger was a cadger but he didn’t want your suit
He’ll cadge your lunch but he’s content with being so hirsute
The puffin felt like nuffin with his massive beaky nose
But still he kept his chin up for he rather liked his clothes
The magpie wouldn’t lie although he was prepared to steal
His virtues might be fake but his apparel very real
The Penguin was depending on a chance to show his class
His haute couture was something that was absolute top brass
The skunk just stunk, not all the time, but when occasion rose
His looks were good but he was quite offensive to the nose
The orca wasn’t happy to be so far from the sea
Though he was quite a corker in his shiny livery…
So when they met the parrot they tried not to put him down
But one of them just had to say… “Did you come as a clown?”
In debate a gallop called Gish
Scored points like a basketball's swish
That Joe could not block!
So now taking stock
Biden's sideline walk is our wish
DT's sick slick lies and his bunk
Were passed past the player who stunk
Since Donald can trick
Let's set a quick pick
For a super sub who can dunk
Loneliness is confinement rather that fear,
a need to suppress reality;
how dreadful is to live daily
in a closed box without sunshine and air!
Was there a constant voice whispering,
" Go after your wishes, it's freewheeling! "
Roger is an example of sheer irony,
his proposal was rejected by Milly;
nothing he saw was reasonably good,
his days were unappreciative and sad.
Even brilliant minds quickly surrender
to strain: they should know better!
Is there enough confidence
to go after your wishes on quick sand?
No shortcuts are recommended:
you will end up empty-ended;
daring is bold, it needs no courage
to break down that constant rage!
My suggestion to you, buddy is to break free:
get rid of false hypothesis;
dreamer, go after your wishes:
heed these words, don't get stunk by a bee!
Dreamer, go after your wishes:
express thoughts of positivity;
never indulge in self-pity,
spare yourself tons of tears!
Drunk,
in a funk,
a lowly punk,
I shrunk
from a skunk.
It stunk.
Away I slunk.
I too stunk...
I thunk.
I took a dunk
and sunk.
A chunk
or hunk
of B.S. or bunk?
Please debunk.
Late last night as I sat and pondered
And all my thoughts for hours had wandered
I just sat and I thunk
Until all my thoughts stunk
It looks like another night squandered
Can you smell that smell
Where it comes from I can't tell
But it stinks so well
I used to say the 's-word'
even the t-word (turd)
But after quite a long thunk
I've now come up with -- 'Bunk!'
Suddenly I'm the intellectual-type
'cos whenever I have a gripe
I sound just like a policy-wonk
when I articulate, "Oh, Bunk!"
In fact, yesterday my toilet backed up
and though - Shxx! - I couldn't fix it
The toilet spewed out some black junk
at which point, after a short thunk,
I screamed, 'That TURD really STUNK!'
The end of October is mild but rainy,
every plump pumpkin has been picked,
the lonely scarecrow is too weary;
oh, he's annoyed and tired of being kicked
by rascals running through the bare fields,
and getting stunk by bumble bees!
It's the beginning of Fall scenery,
staring at the changing leaves
some golden, some auburn;
and they gently fall off trees...
while Sophie strolls with Jenny
complaining about her heartburn!
Grandma waves at them from her rocking chair,
she holds her granddaughter's brown teddy bear;
tears start flowing down her pale, wrinkled cheeks,
when little girls come around for Halloween treats!
The quiet rustle of the leaves
I am at peace over the seas
The welcoming and gentle breeze
I’m soaking up the way it feels
My grandma’s garden and her tea
The apple tree, the little bee
The timid buzz, come on! Come see!
I’m five years old, I’m fun, I’m free
The sun is blazing, it’s july
The big blue sky, oh let me fly!
Being there could be my high
It was a home, was kind, was mine
But coming back to there
There was no care, it left me bare
So much was broken, no repair
It stunk of sorrow, of despair
Outside was mild, it was cold
And my poor grandma’s getting old
I want to cradle, want to hold
But nothing comes, a dead-end road
I am fifteen, I’m angry, sad
And nobody can understand
The way I feel, my back was stabbed
That drained all of the love i had
My home is ruined, broken down
It’s just as blue as this old town
Where is my place I once had found?
It’s gone, it’s buried underground
Booted
The boss was a real ing wanker who abused his position
Now he’s got the golden boot and is no longer there
But he goes to the company cark park to see his lieutenant
Who is just the same as him an equal seller more arrogant!
The original boss was quite a nice guy not a bastard
It was his elite selling unit he set up that stunk of elitism
You’re not ing fighter pilots so why the fake Godliness
It all stinks of bull and **** licking all the way
Tong that far up the butt it comes outa their damn mouth
Who will fill the original boss’ boots will it be his lieutenant?
Who went to the same skool and was trained the same way
Instructions and orders are sent via messenger do this and that
Keep at it run the account my way this way I’m still there
My influence is like Uncle Joe Stalin always present and seeing
Give them Hell drove them to break to leave hire and fire ‘em
Still give me some wanga it’s my account even if I’m booted
Suzette, alas,so drunk at the bar.
Decided to drive home in her car
Oops, ran over a skunk.
Heavens it really stunk.
Out of her car, she studied stars.
7/1/2023
Sub Categories
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.