Funny Word Play Poems

A bit of me
Is the epitome
A part of me
The true of me
That’s truly me
The epic of me
A tome of me
So deep in me
The tomb of...

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one witty Wibblesnow wobbling along

two terrible Tillymows tutting their tongue

three thin Thiggleheads throwing some spoons

four furry Fillimots flying in balloons

five feathered Foulies fumbling a dance

six...

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a creak, an eek and eery melt
in darkness subtle shimmer felt
berroling, droom in shadow dealt
tip-tipping softly shooming out 

a ghost that leaked and trickled through
the...

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the donkey set the table
but the table set was wonky

when the crane brought the game
and the mice brought the dice

the horses cooked the food
and the...

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the ravenous witch
famished with greed
tummied and toothed
in scoops could she eat

pickles and pockles
and piggy trough trays
gorging, gullooging
and munching for days

she went picking parcels
and morsels of...

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There's an overgrown track
partially hoggled and hooned
where a wizened old hagglefud
made spells and priffoond
a great many years ago
but still no-one dares
to tronk up the track
in...

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there is a place at at at
it is by by by
which is near near near
not too far from from from
you can get there via via...

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gulp!
ahurr ahurr ahurr
“I swallowed a cricketer”
he shouted with a cough
but, we asked, in a joking scoff
“do you not mean a cricket?”
then to our amazement
and in...

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Hold on to your many stripes
Before you blow out your pipes
I can hear you loud and clear
Stop acting so cavalier
Cool off then ride on one...

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they live in shining holes, but who?
shining holes where creatures live
  but, 
    and here, truth 
    ...

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A thought arose...

In Hegel's great dialectic cotillion,
Time transcends as the Absolute emerges,
From deep submersion.
Veritably idealistic path to verity.
It is all about History!

While Schopenhauer's Will, By...

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that witch counting her spells
counted two hundred and twelvety-nine
of those, onety-one and a bit didn’t work
sixteenty-three, from family, passed down
and eleventeen were fine, the rest
she...

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begroan the ghoul who floots the floor
it sidles wodely rombles 
and seen by some who vallacate
the hotel rooms it froodles

midnight is the time they say
the...

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yet my wyle is thribbly gratisant
I do befloo from time to time
skootching boofully in a dank place
but poetry flampunctuates
and allows me to exshall
  ...

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so long, all the gilling snafferwisps
I wish I could say it was 
but those times we hodded abreem 
shook, then circled befrayingly
yet alas, when all...

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