Funny Work Poems | Examples
These Funny Work poems are examples of Work poems about Funny. These are the best examples of Work Funny poems written by international poets.
I just heard two elevator pitches
Surgeons both, too int’rested in riches
Yet I found them quite funny
Even if they loved money
Though I said ‘No,’ they left me in stitches
The sun is high in the summer sky
And no clouds to be seen
The grass is high neath the summer sky
And growing tall and green
The mower starts with growling roar
And cuts through swaths of fescue
This mowing proves a sweaty chore
And soon I beg for rescue
My lawn’s expanse appears to grow
The longer that I labor
Seems to expand as I cut each row
The mower becomes my sabre
And I a true knight dueling a foe
Who laughs at my every advance
He stands unyielding before each blow
And about the green our martial dance
With never a sign of surrender
The fight goes on between us two
Which shall prove to be the pretender
Victory comes with the aim that’s true
And at last my foe lies low
Beneath the heel of the victor
Yet even now it grows
Who shall win next Saturday?
Sadly there is no predictor
too soon
this moon
day’s chores
some scores
most not
forgot
deplete
need sleep
morning
warning
disarm
alarm
same old
sixfold
more work
can’t shirk
no fun
undone
work sucks
need bucks
The limericks piled in his yard
Made mowing and maintenance hard.
The blade would get stuck
When nonsense it struck,
The handle from hyperbole jarred.
Funny how independence
Can blind lack of choice
The feel of wheels
Silencing the roaring voice
Yellow, plain, drab
But it got me to my destination
Blaring the AM radio
While I chalked my delineation
Finally, graduating my goal
So I got myself a present
I wanted roast duck
But the dealership gave me pheasant
My partner wrecked my present
And took my decision power away
Every body I got was good for a time
Then turned to clay
Finally, free to be me
......WHO'S THAT......
Blindly I walked onto lots
Expecting care and compassion
They just wanted to sell, me,
A body decked in the latest fashion
Upside down, Topsy- Turvy
Became my new way of existence
No wrecks to report
In my system resistance
Finally, my wheels were given back
My name swiped with black ink
All that I tried to build
Now with dirty dishes, in the kitchen sink
I'm left with ME
Without deceit running about
The journey is arduous
But I'm finally finding out
.....I'm worth loving
Written by Trudy Schrader on 11-24-2024
When will it ever end, the working, cleaning, and washing.
Why was I born to be a slave to the working, cleaning, and washing.
One day it will all be gone, the working, cleaning, and washing.
When I go to an early grave, because of working, cleaning, and washing.
Good morning,
Gibbers And Watts how may I help you today?
Yes Sir I can help you with that.
Have you had any thoughts on how you would like to be killed?
Ok yes so like an accident?
We do have a couple of offers on at the moment.
We can do an industrial accident with a mention on the six o'clock news, or for slightly more money we can murder you with a full reconstruction on prime time television and a feature on the news.
Yes Sir, we have a full range of ways we can kill you and all at competitive prices.
Certainly, I can send you a brochure and then you can talk to one of our advisors.
Can I take your name and address and I will send a brochure out to you…
Thank you for calling, enjoy the rest of your day.
Good Morning,
Gibbers And Watts how may I help you today?
Autumn with all the metaphors I can muster
The beauty of the season and it's golden luster
The raking of leaves
And cleaning of eaves
And my annual trip to the back adjuster
Our entire universe is of chaos
endlessly churning away,
So how the do you expect us apes
To find meaning each day
While we're burning and learning and working for pay
Thinking surely, surely there's a better way?
There
Is
Not
Oh me oh my
I work all the time
I honestly just feel like a tiny fly
In this large world full of crime
I wonder what is my purpose here
When all i do is work
All i want to do is have an ice cold beer
My manager hides in the back continuing to lurk
Maybe i should quit this joint
Tell them i broke my leg
But what would even be the point
All I’d do is go drink a keg
Oh yes a beer is what i need
If only he had a heart
To let me leave this company greed
So i can get drunk behind the old mini mart
They say that breaking up is tough,
now I know that it’s true,
one day we’ll go separate ways,
and all the blame’s on you.
Maybe we shared some good times,
up and down all those years,
but baby far too often now,
you’ve reduced me to tears.
Some nights you’ve kept me awake,
until the early hours,
but never brought me breakfast,
or even bought nice flowers.
Now I want you gone from my bed,
and banished from my head,
take a mirror to yourself,
reflect on what’s been said.
You don’t deserve a boyfriend,
girlfriend, husband, or wife,
you’ll be shocked when I change the locks,
on you my working life.
Quote By Poet "Time is a funny thing. It is here, it is gone.
Never to be found again."
As l get older,
I find the same word has different meanings.
I ask myself,
how can that be?
As a child I played by myself,
I was just rambling around to kill time.
When I started working,
the work day went rambling along.
As a new mom the baby phase,
sure was not rambling anywhere.
Now older and hopefully wiser,
I can see how some words have changed my life.
Now as the years have past by so quickly,
I find myself rambling along from day to day.
Given an impossible task to vigorously chase
Based on something nobody else wanted to face
With no support expectations were delivered coldly
Blindly thrown into the thick of things to navigate boldly
I’m the one who manhandled the lion down a back staircase
You can always hear the jangling sound,
Of the organ grinder as he makes his way around.
He's out there in the rain or sun,
And everyone looks and seems to have fun.
He is a funny looking man with an old battered hat,
Which he holds out for people to put their pennies in, but sometimes there are buttons and other bits of this and that.
He seems very old and is stooped and bent,
Pulling that old organ around just to get enough to pay his rent.
He hasn't been around lately, perhaps he is to old to turn the stiff organ winder,
It's been a long time now, so it seems we have seen the last of that old organ grinder.
The short order cook is getting delirious at five in the morning
Beads of sweat showing under his funny hat
As he stares blankly at the eight new orders on the wheel,
And wonders when the drunks
Will all have enough and go home.
I’m one of the drunks
From a short order night
The band was hot
And the girls were swingin
But alas I finally walk out with no easy over lady.
And the waitress,
Scrambled yellow blond,
Takes my order
And adds it to the wheel.
More beads of sweat from the short order cook.
And he yells
“HERE’S YOUR ORDER STUPID”
to the scrambled yellow waitress.
“DON’T CALL ME STUPID!”
But she knows
He’ll give her
biscuits and gravy after it’s all over.
But in the meantime
It’s the drunks
On the other side of the counter
From this short order night
Eggs over easy
Pigs in a blanket
Hash browns and toast
Heartache and coffee
Yea, the short order cook plows on
And knows
That the nine orders on the wheel
Will not cook themselves.
He’s been on the other side too.