Funny Poem Quotes
Quotes tagged as "funny-poem"
Showing 1-18 of 18
“O woman,
father says natural is beautiful
so why do you redden your cheeks
and blacken your eyes?
Why do you remove the hair on your legs
and draw them into your brows?
Why do you hold your breath
lest your stomach show
and hold your fart
lest they know
that you’re a human? O woman,
father says natural is beautiful
so why do you straighten your hair
to curl it next
and pretend to orgasm
so they think you enjoyed the sex?
Why do you dumb yourself down
and push your breasts up?
Why do you smile when you’re told to
and love when you don’t want to?
When? When
will you stop, woman?
Father says natural is beautiful
but that is doubtful
for what does father know
he’s only a fellow.”
―
father says natural is beautiful
so why do you redden your cheeks
and blacken your eyes?
Why do you remove the hair on your legs
and draw them into your brows?
Why do you hold your breath
lest your stomach show
and hold your fart
lest they know
that you’re a human? O woman,
father says natural is beautiful
so why do you straighten your hair
to curl it next
and pretend to orgasm
so they think you enjoyed the sex?
Why do you dumb yourself down
and push your breasts up?
Why do you smile when you’re told to
and love when you don’t want to?
When? When
will you stop, woman?
Father says natural is beautiful
but that is doubtful
for what does father know
he’s only a fellow.”
―
“Yes, I know," Isadora said, and then read her poem, leaning forward so Carmelita Spats would not overhear:
"I would rather eat a bowl of vampire bats
than spend an hour with Carmelita Spats."
The Baudelaires giggled and then covered their mouths so nobody would know they were laughing at Carmelita.
"That was great," Klaus said. "I like the part about the bowl of bats.”
― The Austere Academy
"I would rather eat a bowl of vampire bats
than spend an hour with Carmelita Spats."
The Baudelaires giggled and then covered their mouths so nobody would know they were laughing at Carmelita.
"That was great," Klaus said. "I like the part about the bowl of bats.”
― The Austere Academy
“अच्छा! ठीक तो फिर मैं एक कविता सुनाता हूँ। अगर तुम कविता सुनते हुए हँस दिए तो सात दिन लगातार नहाना पड़ेगा। बोलो मंजूर”, मैंने शरारत से कहा।
“कविता सुन के कौन हँसता है। बंडल-बोर होती है कविता”, वह बोला।
“ठीक है फिर सुनो। बच्चू”, मैंने कहा।
“हल्लम हल्लम हौदा, हाथी चल्लम चल्लम
हम बैठे हाथी पर, हाथी हल्लम हल्लम
लंबी लंबी सूँड़ फटाफट फट्टर फट्टर
लंबे लंबे दाँत खटाखट खट्टर खट्टर
भारी भारी मूँड़ मटकता झम्मम झम्मम
हल्लम हल्लम हौदा, हाथी चल्लम चल्लम
पर्वत जैसी देह थुलथुली थल्लल थल्लल
हालर हालर देह हिले जब हाथी चल्लल।”
― UP 65
“कविता सुन के कौन हँसता है। बंडल-बोर होती है कविता”, वह बोला।
“ठीक है फिर सुनो। बच्चू”, मैंने कहा।
“हल्लम हल्लम हौदा, हाथी चल्लम चल्लम
हम बैठे हाथी पर, हाथी हल्लम हल्लम
लंबी लंबी सूँड़ फटाफट फट्टर फट्टर
लंबे लंबे दाँत खटाखट खट्टर खट्टर
भारी भारी मूँड़ मटकता झम्मम झम्मम
हल्लम हल्लम हौदा, हाथी चल्लम चल्लम
पर्वत जैसी देह थुलथुली थल्लल थल्लल
हालर हालर देह हिले जब हाथी चल्लल।”
― UP 65
“jollymerry
hollyberry
jollyberry
merryholly
happyjolly
jollyjelly
jellybelly
bellymerry
hollyheppy
jollyMolly
marryJerry
merryHarry
happyBarry
heppyJarry
bobbyheppy
berryjorry
jorryjolly
moppyjelly
Mollymerry
Jerryjolly
bellyboppy
jorryhoppy
hollymoppy
Barrymerry
Jarryhappy
happyboppy
boppyjolly
jollymerry
merrymerry
merrymerry
merryChris
ammerryasa
Chrismerry
asMERRYCHR
YSANTHEMUM”
― The Second Life: Selected Poems
hollyberry
jollyberry
merryholly
happyjolly
jollyjelly
jellybelly
bellymerry
hollyheppy
jollyMolly
marryJerry
merryHarry
happyBarry
heppyJarry
bobbyheppy
berryjorry
jorryjolly
moppyjelly
Mollymerry
Jerryjolly
bellyboppy
jorryhoppy
hollymoppy
Barrymerry
Jarryhappy
happyboppy
boppyjolly
jollymerry
merrymerry
merrymerry
merryChris
ammerryasa
Chrismerry
asMERRYCHR
YSANTHEMUM”
― The Second Life: Selected Poems
“Neptune’s Lost Banana by Stewart Stafford
O lost banana of Neptune,
Do you wonder why you’ve washed ashore?
Do people see a yellow fruit in the water?
Or a Portuguese Man O’War?
You were so near the fingertips of power,
Did fortune peel away your chances too quick?
Or do you see yourself in an ivory tower?
Of a split-away banana republic?
You could have been top banana,
Now you’re potential poetic justice,
For someone with bad karma to slip on,
And go skidding as you go squish.
© Stewart Stafford, 2021. All rights reserved.”
―
O lost banana of Neptune,
Do you wonder why you’ve washed ashore?
Do people see a yellow fruit in the water?
Or a Portuguese Man O’War?
You were so near the fingertips of power,
Did fortune peel away your chances too quick?
Or do you see yourself in an ivory tower?
Of a split-away banana republic?
You could have been top banana,
Now you’re potential poetic justice,
For someone with bad karma to slip on,
And go skidding as you go squish.
© Stewart Stafford, 2021. All rights reserved.”
―
“From the **** of his own mother,
Came smiling this crazy ****er!
His father forgot to use a ****er,
But we are the ones who suffer.”
― Coinman: An Untold Conspiracy
Came smiling this crazy ****er!
His father forgot to use a ****er,
But we are the ones who suffer.”
― Coinman: An Untold Conspiracy
“The Anatomy of Trades by Stewart Stafford
Detective Toes, Senator Nose,
Eye-eye Captain,
And Rhinologist Blows.
Banker Bum, Painter Thumb,
Judge Mental,
And Dentist Gum.
Dancer Hip, President Lip,
Dermatologist Peel,
Goalie Fingertip.
Beautician Eyelash, Barber Moustache
Boxer Fist,
And Doctor Rash.
© Stewart Stafford, 2021. All rights reserved.”
―
Detective Toes, Senator Nose,
Eye-eye Captain,
And Rhinologist Blows.
Banker Bum, Painter Thumb,
Judge Mental,
And Dentist Gum.
Dancer Hip, President Lip,
Dermatologist Peel,
Goalie Fingertip.
Beautician Eyelash, Barber Moustache
Boxer Fist,
And Doctor Rash.
© Stewart Stafford, 2021. All rights reserved.”
―
“Daily Bread by Stewart Stafford
Butcher short-changed me again,
There’s sawdust in the sausages,
Grocer’s growing grosser and then,
A proposition with my messages.
The driving instructor’s pissed on bends,
I went and told his mother,
The barman’s watering down pints for friends
Like he’s feeding his baby brother.
The barber’s still one hair off,
One side doesn’t match the other,
Bookie won’t take my bets and lends,
The landlord another sucker.
Tossed out in the street to fend for myself,
With all the other refuse,
Garbage man fills his truck with me,
At least I still have one use.
© Stewart Stafford, 2021. All rights reserved.”
―
Butcher short-changed me again,
There’s sawdust in the sausages,
Grocer’s growing grosser and then,
A proposition with my messages.
The driving instructor’s pissed on bends,
I went and told his mother,
The barman’s watering down pints for friends
Like he’s feeding his baby brother.
The barber’s still one hair off,
One side doesn’t match the other,
Bookie won’t take my bets and lends,
The landlord another sucker.
Tossed out in the street to fend for myself,
With all the other refuse,
Garbage man fills his truck with me,
At least I still have one use.
© Stewart Stafford, 2021. All rights reserved.”
―
“The Beshrewing of Tom o' Bedlam by Stewart Stafford
Fie and a plague on thee!
Nay, a pox!
May legions of hellions float through thee,
And may thou fall in the dung of an ox.
May the thing below thine eyes,
Take on the appearance of a sprout,
And may the things above thy chin,
Resemble a harlot's spout.
May Heaven strike thee dumb,
Aye, dumber than thou art now,
May thy words become those of a lunatic,
And thy breathing the grunting of a sow.
Verily, I do not wish thee misfortune,
Lest it rebounds back upon me,
But, as long as it befalls thee first,
I may live quite merrily.
© Stewart Stafford, 2021. All rights reserved.”
―
Fie and a plague on thee!
Nay, a pox!
May legions of hellions float through thee,
And may thou fall in the dung of an ox.
May the thing below thine eyes,
Take on the appearance of a sprout,
And may the things above thy chin,
Resemble a harlot's spout.
May Heaven strike thee dumb,
Aye, dumber than thou art now,
May thy words become those of a lunatic,
And thy breathing the grunting of a sow.
Verily, I do not wish thee misfortune,
Lest it rebounds back upon me,
But, as long as it befalls thee first,
I may live quite merrily.
© Stewart Stafford, 2021. All rights reserved.”
―
“I Once Was A Bee by Stewart Stafford
I once was a bee,
All striped and dorky,
I got crushed underfoot,
By Amber Heard's Yorkie.
It mashed my wings,
I never sought money,
Even when it made me,
Poop out some honey.
As I flew to Bee Heaven,
In a mystical fog,
She made such a fuss,
Of that murdering dog.
© Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.”
―
I once was a bee,
All striped and dorky,
I got crushed underfoot,
By Amber Heard's Yorkie.
It mashed my wings,
I never sought money,
Even when it made me,
Poop out some honey.
As I flew to Bee Heaven,
In a mystical fog,
She made such a fuss,
Of that murdering dog.
© Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.”
―
“Tuesday Man by Stewart Stafford
He was only a superhero on Tuesdays,
And the rest of the time was his own,
Tuesday was the villains' day of rest,
Then crime sprees just like Al Capone.
He tried to make his Tuesdays longer,
By pulling some gruelling all-nighters,
But he knew that to be more effective,
He'd have to be a 7-day crime-fighter.
So, he rearranged his calendar totally,
To take the fight to all the baddies,
He was on-call from then on, 24/7,
Or relaxed playing golf with his caddy.
© Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.”
―
He was only a superhero on Tuesdays,
And the rest of the time was his own,
Tuesday was the villains' day of rest,
Then crime sprees just like Al Capone.
He tried to make his Tuesdays longer,
By pulling some gruelling all-nighters,
But he knew that to be more effective,
He'd have to be a 7-day crime-fighter.
So, he rearranged his calendar totally,
To take the fight to all the baddies,
He was on-call from then on, 24/7,
Or relaxed playing golf with his caddy.
© Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.”
―
“Inexplicable by Stewart Stafford
I ran into Bigfoot,
Or John Paul Yeti,
Told me of aliens,
Found by SETI.
E.T.s kidnapped me,
And I lost two hours,
Hurts to sit down now,
They never sent flowers.
Nessie gives the hump,
Or is it a boat’s wake?
So proud to be Scottish,
Bagpipes in the loch/lake.
© Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.”
―
I ran into Bigfoot,
Or John Paul Yeti,
Told me of aliens,
Found by SETI.
E.T.s kidnapped me,
And I lost two hours,
Hurts to sit down now,
They never sent flowers.
Nessie gives the hump,
Or is it a boat’s wake?
So proud to be Scottish,
Bagpipes in the loch/lake.
© Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.”
―
“Frack To Bont by Stewart Stafford
Rip The Jacker,
Killy The Bid,
Ken F. Johnnedy,
But not Saesar, Cid.
Meddie Frercury,
Kanley Stubrick,
Lohn Jennon,
But no Magger of Jick.
Cilly Bonnolly.
Cave Dhappelle,
Pichard Rryor,
No Relch of Waquel.
© Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved”
―
Rip The Jacker,
Killy The Bid,
Ken F. Johnnedy,
But not Saesar, Cid.
Meddie Frercury,
Kanley Stubrick,
Lohn Jennon,
But no Magger of Jick.
Cilly Bonnolly.
Cave Dhappelle,
Pichard Rryor,
No Relch of Waquel.
© Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved”
―
“In Delirio Familiari by Stewart Stafford
He devoured radioactive pizza,
eyes bulging to breaking point.
Every riddle imploded in a flash,
daymare fission without a joint.
He, the man of conjured letters;
she, his spark that moderates.
Janus creature, clockface duo,
oddballs, but fitting mates.
With dollops of ambrosial agony,
in frenzied closeness, but witty,
The Brain Surgeon’s Cookbook,
A bromide concoction served as ditty.
© Stewart Stafford, 2023. All rights reserved.”
―
He devoured radioactive pizza,
eyes bulging to breaking point.
Every riddle imploded in a flash,
daymare fission without a joint.
He, the man of conjured letters;
she, his spark that moderates.
Janus creature, clockface duo,
oddballs, but fitting mates.
With dollops of ambrosial agony,
in frenzied closeness, but witty,
The Brain Surgeon’s Cookbook,
A bromide concoction served as ditty.
© Stewart Stafford, 2023. All rights reserved.”
―
“Bloodline by Stewart Stafford
Stuart Richards, 5,001st in line to the British throne,
A distant cousin of the king but hitherto unknown,
He dreamt of the crown and his fair queen's hand,
But there was no baiting the hook unless he had a plan.
He chose to eliminate the competition, stood before him,
Through a dark celebration, they'd never know what hit them,
He sent out invitations to the 5, 000 heirs,
Promising vast feasting, with music and fanfare
He built a fake house front with a door and a sign,
That said: "Welcome to the party. Now, kindly form a line."
Behind the door, there awaited a cliff face and a fall,
A master of deception, his warm smile greeted them all.
He stood at the front door with a charming bow,
And, welcoming each guest, he said: "In you go now!"
He watched them disappear as they stepped through the door,
Counting steps to ascension, lemmings queued up for more.
Backslapping himself, inner cackling at his scheme,
Imagining himself as king - glory rained down, it seemed,
But his Machiavellian plotting had a monstrous flaw,
One thing he'd forgotten that greedy eyes never saw.
The king was still alive, and he was not amused,
He got wind of this plot and responded unconfused,
He sent his guards to arrest him for sedition in a fury,
They swept him off his feet, planting him before a jury.
Put on trial for treason - the verdict was most guilty,
Execution set, he had the neck to beg for mercy,
But the king was not budging and barked: "Off with his head!"
An Axeman's reverse coronation, he joined the fallen dead.
Halting 2,986th in line to the British throne,
A distant cousin of the king, headless spirit flown,
In jealous craving, dispossessed as ruler of the land,
Crowned pride came before a fallen plan.
© Stewart Stafford, 2023. All rights reserved.”
―
Stuart Richards, 5,001st in line to the British throne,
A distant cousin of the king but hitherto unknown,
He dreamt of the crown and his fair queen's hand,
But there was no baiting the hook unless he had a plan.
He chose to eliminate the competition, stood before him,
Through a dark celebration, they'd never know what hit them,
He sent out invitations to the 5, 000 heirs,
Promising vast feasting, with music and fanfare
He built a fake house front with a door and a sign,
That said: "Welcome to the party. Now, kindly form a line."
Behind the door, there awaited a cliff face and a fall,
A master of deception, his warm smile greeted them all.
He stood at the front door with a charming bow,
And, welcoming each guest, he said: "In you go now!"
He watched them disappear as they stepped through the door,
Counting steps to ascension, lemmings queued up for more.
Backslapping himself, inner cackling at his scheme,
Imagining himself as king - glory rained down, it seemed,
But his Machiavellian plotting had a monstrous flaw,
One thing he'd forgotten that greedy eyes never saw.
The king was still alive, and he was not amused,
He got wind of this plot and responded unconfused,
He sent his guards to arrest him for sedition in a fury,
They swept him off his feet, planting him before a jury.
Put on trial for treason - the verdict was most guilty,
Execution set, he had the neck to beg for mercy,
But the king was not budging and barked: "Off with his head!"
An Axeman's reverse coronation, he joined the fallen dead.
Halting 2,986th in line to the British throne,
A distant cousin of the king, headless spirit flown,
In jealous craving, dispossessed as ruler of the land,
Crowned pride came before a fallen plan.
© Stewart Stafford, 2023. All rights reserved.”
―
“An Appreciation of the Udder by Stewart Stafford
Abe Lincoln borrowed Mabel Brown's bra,
The bustiest gal in the county by far,
Stretched it right back as far it would go,
Launched himself up, a skyrocketing crow.
He soared up so high, he couldn't believe it,
Saw an aerial shot of Mabel's mighty cleavage,
Birds wondered about the youthful intruder,
Touched the dark rim of space, no blue there.
Gravity tapped Honest Abe on the shoulder,
He fell back to earth like a tumbling boulder,
Broke his rapid fall by grabbing onto a tree,
Exhilarated at the thought of skyward liberty.
© Stewart Stafford, 2024. All rights reserved.”
―
Abe Lincoln borrowed Mabel Brown's bra,
The bustiest gal in the county by far,
Stretched it right back as far it would go,
Launched himself up, a skyrocketing crow.
He soared up so high, he couldn't believe it,
Saw an aerial shot of Mabel's mighty cleavage,
Birds wondered about the youthful intruder,
Touched the dark rim of space, no blue there.
Gravity tapped Honest Abe on the shoulder,
He fell back to earth like a tumbling boulder,
Broke his rapid fall by grabbing onto a tree,
Exhilarated at the thought of skyward liberty.
© Stewart Stafford, 2024. All rights reserved.”
―
“The Zombie Firetruck by Stewart Stafford
Sirens moan, grave duty's flash of red,
A mortuary whiff of something dead,
Hoses trained with brains they suck,
Your friendly neighbourhood zombie firetruck!
All that remained of the human fire team,
From the zombie pandemic of 2017,
Still in their uniforms, their only treasures,
Apocalyptic times call for end-time measures.
When they reached the fire, people did scoff,
They lurched, staggered, body parts fell off,
As they wandered around, fire hoses forlorn,
These knightly living dead faced a blazing dawn.
The chief, hat off to his skeleton crew,
In a voice once alive, now croaky like flu:
'To the hydrant, my ghouls, let's save Gothik Town,
Or they'll call Ghostbusters, we'll be the clowns!'
A glowering inferno, a cremation scene,
Zombie firefighters, brave and light green.
Through smoke and ash, they gravely stand,
Composed decomposition with skeletal hand.
Axeman Bony Ed led their clattering charge,
Into the smoke, his cadavers did barge,
The townsfolk looked on in dead of night,
And disbelief, tiredness and mild fright.
There soon followed medic Cemetery Phil,
Decaying Murphy, Old Salty, and Dead Drill,
Slab Stevens, Madly Hyde and Molly Voodoo,
Determined to shake their initial hoodoo.
A mother and baby backed by burning drapes,
Team Macabre charged up the fire escape,
Saving both and getting everyone out,
Drank Brainer Ade as they leaked like a spout.
Somehow, undead teamwork saved the day,
No lives were lost as the water sprayed,
Doused the flames, cool flatlined heroes,
Much zombie kudos, no longer scary zeroes.
The crowd cheered, did they ever doubt it?
High fives lost hands but new ones sprouted,
Frankenstein proud in their flapping flesh,
Sure to get medals at the HalloweenFest.
With a final groan and a clatter of bones,
The zombie firetruck headed back home.
Rotten yet proud, in their reanimated way,
The risen would fight fires another day.
© 2024, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.”
―
Sirens moan, grave duty's flash of red,
A mortuary whiff of something dead,
Hoses trained with brains they suck,
Your friendly neighbourhood zombie firetruck!
All that remained of the human fire team,
From the zombie pandemic of 2017,
Still in their uniforms, their only treasures,
Apocalyptic times call for end-time measures.
When they reached the fire, people did scoff,
They lurched, staggered, body parts fell off,
As they wandered around, fire hoses forlorn,
These knightly living dead faced a blazing dawn.
The chief, hat off to his skeleton crew,
In a voice once alive, now croaky like flu:
'To the hydrant, my ghouls, let's save Gothik Town,
Or they'll call Ghostbusters, we'll be the clowns!'
A glowering inferno, a cremation scene,
Zombie firefighters, brave and light green.
Through smoke and ash, they gravely stand,
Composed decomposition with skeletal hand.
Axeman Bony Ed led their clattering charge,
Into the smoke, his cadavers did barge,
The townsfolk looked on in dead of night,
And disbelief, tiredness and mild fright.
There soon followed medic Cemetery Phil,
Decaying Murphy, Old Salty, and Dead Drill,
Slab Stevens, Madly Hyde and Molly Voodoo,
Determined to shake their initial hoodoo.
A mother and baby backed by burning drapes,
Team Macabre charged up the fire escape,
Saving both and getting everyone out,
Drank Brainer Ade as they leaked like a spout.
Somehow, undead teamwork saved the day,
No lives were lost as the water sprayed,
Doused the flames, cool flatlined heroes,
Much zombie kudos, no longer scary zeroes.
The crowd cheered, did they ever doubt it?
High fives lost hands but new ones sprouted,
Frankenstein proud in their flapping flesh,
Sure to get medals at the HalloweenFest.
With a final groan and a clatter of bones,
The zombie firetruck headed back home.
Rotten yet proud, in their reanimated way,
The risen would fight fires another day.
© 2024, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.”
―
“Chaos Cocktail by Stewart Stafford
Herky-jerky's hanky-panky,
Wakey-wakey, eggs n' bakey!
Cosmic Mercury's retrograde trick,
Nilsson's Brandy Alexander kick.
John heard Bermuda's jingle-jangle,
Storm surge in an Exorcist Triangle!
Sea shanties upending Behan's hive,
All stout hornets jigged and jived.
Yoko's "Oh, no!" on firmer ground,
Her ageing mariner didn't drown,
Lonely Ringo plays bingo bongo,
Paul, mugged down near the Congo.
© 2024, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.”
―
Herky-jerky's hanky-panky,
Wakey-wakey, eggs n' bakey!
Cosmic Mercury's retrograde trick,
Nilsson's Brandy Alexander kick.
John heard Bermuda's jingle-jangle,
Storm surge in an Exorcist Triangle!
Sea shanties upending Behan's hive,
All stout hornets jigged and jived.
Yoko's "Oh, no!" on firmer ground,
Her ageing mariner didn't drown,
Lonely Ringo plays bingo bongo,
Paul, mugged down near the Congo.
© 2024, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.”
―
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