Humorous Poems

Humorous Poems

Comical and Amusing Poems

Humorous poetry has been written for thousands of years. Many of us do not know that the nursery rhymes that we sang as kids were made up to convey information of a delicate political nature encoded in what sounds like a silly children's song. Living in the western world, we are lucky enough to be able (in some cases) to freely speak our minds. However, we cannot take for granted the medium of humor as a way to convey information that may be politically dangerous.

43 Short and Long Humorous Poems

  1. 1. The Three Little Pigs

    This poem was published in Revolting Rhymes, a collection of six Roald Dahl poems published in 1982. Each poem is a parody of a traditional folk tale. He provides a re-interpretation and surprise ending instead of the traditional happily-ever-after ending. In this poem with gory twists, Roald Dahl combines the characters in the Three Little Pigs story with Little Red Riding Hood.

    The animal I really dig,
    Above all others is the pig.
    Pigs are noble. Pigs are clever,
    Pigs are courteous. However,
    Now and then, to break this rule,
    One meets a pig who is a fool.
    What, for example, would you say,
    If strolling through the woods one day,
    Right there in front of you you saw
    A pig who'd built his house of STRAW?
    The Wolf who saw it licked his lips,
    And said, 'That pig has had his chips.'
    'Little pig, little pig, let me come in!'
    'No, no, by the hairs on my chinny-chin-chin!'
    'Then I'll huff and I'll puff and I'll blow your house in!'

    The little pig began to pray,
    But Wolfie blew his house away.
    He shouted, 'Bacon, pork and ham!
    Oh, what a lucky Wolf I am!'
    And though he ate the pig quite fast,
    He carefully kept the tail till last.
    Wolf wandered on, a trifle bloated.
    Surprise, surprise, for soon he noted
    Another little house for pigs,
    And this one had been built of TWIGS!

    'Little pig, little pig, let me come in!'
    'No, no, by the hairs on my chinny-chin-chin!'
    'Then I'll huff and I'll puff and I'll blow your house in!'

    The Wolf said, 'Okay, here we go!'
    He then began to blow and blow.
    The little pig began to squeal.
    He cried, 'Oh Wolf, you've had one meal!
    Why can't we talk and make a deal?
    The Wolf replied, 'Not on your nelly!'
    And soon the pig was in his belly.

    'Two juicy little pigs!' Wolf cried,
    'But still I'm not quite satisfied!
    I know how full my tummy's bulging,
    But oh, how I adore indulging.'
    So creeping quietly as a mouse,
    The Wolf approached another house,
    A house which also had inside
    A little piggy trying to hide.
    'You'll not get me!' the Piggy cried.
    'I'll blow you down!' the Wolf replied.
    'You'll need,' Pig said, 'a lot of puff,
    And I don't think you've got enough.'
    Wolf huffed and puffed and blew and blew.
    The house stayed up as good as new.
    'If I can't blow it down,' Wolf said,
    I'll have to blow it up instead.
    I'll come back in the dead of night
    And blow it up with dynamite!'
    Pig cried, 'You brute! I might have known!'
    Then, picking up the telephone,
    He dialed as quickly as he could
    The number of red Riding Hood.

    'Hello,' she said. 'Who's speaking? Who?
    Oh, hello, Piggy, how d'you do?'
    Pig cried, 'I need your help, Miss Hood!
    Oh help me, please! D'you think you could?'
    'I'll try of course,' Miss Hood replied.
    'What's on your mind...?' 'A Wolf!' Pig cried.
    'I know you've dealt with wolves before,
    And now I've got one at my door!'

    'My darling Pig,' she said, 'my sweet,
    That's something really up my street.
    I've just begun to wash my hair.
    But when it's dry, I'll be right there.'

    A short while later, through the wood,
    Came striding brave Miss Riding Hood.
    The Wolf stood there, his eyes ablaze,
    And yellowish, like mayonnaise.
    His teeth were sharp, his gums were raw,
    And spit was dripping from his jaw.
    Once more the maiden's eyelid flickers.
    She draws the pistol from her knickers.
    Once more she hits the vital spot,
    And kills him with a single shot.
    Pig, peeping through the window, stood
    And yelled, 'Well done, Miss Riding Hood!'

    Ah, Piglet, you must never trust
    Young ladies from the upper crust.
    For now, Miss Riding Hood, one notes,
    Not only has two wolfskin coats,
    But when she goes from place to place,
    She has a PIGSKIN TRAVELING CASE.

    More On This Poem

    Latest Shared Story

    This is an unanticipated and unexpected poem. Though the title sounds childish, it is a complete transformation of the story Three Little Pigs! Roald Dahl has a creative mind which I...

    Read complete story

    Share your story!

  2. Advertisement

    Advertisement

  3. 2. Orange

    Have you ever struggled to find a word that rhymes

    Nothing Rhymes with Orange

    Now see the beautiful sunset ore the ocean blue
    Fiery colors due abound of poems there are a few
    I wish that I could write one, about that perfect hue
    But nothing rhymes with Orange

    Orchards stretch for miles, they never seem to stop
    There nectar baring fruit is one that's hard to top
    A fruit that justifies a sonnet, but might as well be rock
    But nothing rhymes with Orange

    How do I describe a basketball?
    Or the bricks within my garden wall
    The autumn leaves before they fall
    But nothing rhymes with Orange

    So the hardest line you'll ever write
    One to keep you up all night
    So please tell if you might
    What the hell rhymes with ORANGE?

    More On This Poem

    Latest Shared Story

    This orange poem has tickled my fancy. Let me give it a go...

    Porridge is a dreary word that always rhymes with orange.
    While strawberries and blueberries may make a soothing pair....

    Read complete story

    Share your story!

  4. Advertisement

    Advertisement

  5. 3. Cinderella

    This poem was published in Revolting Rhymes, a collection of six Roald Dahl poems published in 1982. Each poem is a parody of a traditional folk tale. He provides a re-interpretation and surprise ending instead of the traditional happily-ever-after ending. This poem shows a different side of the Cinderella story that everyone knows. It has some gory twists and turns.

    I guess you think you know this story.
    You don't. The real one's much more gory.
    The phoney one, the one you know,
    Was cooked up years and years ago,
    And made to sound all soft and sappy
    just to keep the children happy.
    Mind you, they got the first bit right,
    The bit where, in the dead of night,
    The Ugly Sisters, jewels and all,
    Departed for the Palace Ball,
    While darling little Cinderella
    Was locked up in a slimy cellar,
    Where rats who wanted things to eat,
    Began to nibble at her feet.

    She bellowed 'Help!' and 'Let me out!
    The Magic Fairy heard her shout.
    Appearing in a blaze of light,
    She said: 'My dear, are you all right?'
    'All right?' cried Cindy .'Can't you see
    'I feel as rotten as can be!'
    She beat her fist against the wall,
    And shouted, 'Get me to the Ball!
    'There is a Disco at the Palace!
    'The rest have gone and I am jealous!
    'I want a dress! I want a coach!
    'And earrings and a diamond brooch!
    'And silver slippers, two of those!
    'And lovely nylon panty hose!
    'Done up like that I'll guarantee
    'The handsome Prince will fall for me!'
    The Fairy said, 'Hang on a tick.'
    She gave her wand a mighty flick
    And quickly, in no time at all,
    Cindy was at the Palace Ball!

    It made the Ugly Sisters wince
    To see her dancing with the Prince.
    She held him very tight and pressed
    herself against his manly chest.
    The Prince himself was turned to pulp,
    All he could do was gasp and gulp.
    Then midnight struck. She shouted, 'Heck!
    I've got to run to save my neck!'
    The Prince cried, 'No! Alas! Alack!'
    He grabbed her dress to hold her back.
    As Cindy shouted, 'Let me go!'
    The dress was ripped from head to toe.

    She ran out in her underwear,
    And lost one slipper on the stair.
    The Prince was on it like a dart,
    He pressed it to his pounding heart,
    'The girl this slipper fits,' he cried,
    'Tomorrow morn shall be my bride!
    I'll visit every house in town
    'Until I've tracked the maiden down!'
    Then rather carelessly, I fear,
    He placed it on a crate of beer.

    At once, one of the Ugly Sisters,
    (The one whose face was blotched with blisters)
    Sneaked up and grabbed the dainty shoe,
    And quickly flushed it down the loo.
    Then in its place she calmly put
    The slipper from her own left foot.
    Ah ha, you see, the plot grows thicker,
    And Cindy's luck starts looking sicker.

    Next day, the Prince went charging down
    To knock on all the doors in town.
    In every house, the tension grew.
    Who was the owner of the shoe?
    The shoe was long and very wide.
    (A normal foot got lost inside.)
    Also it smelled a wee bit icky.
    (The owner's feet were hot and sticky.)
    Thousands of eager people came
    To try it on, but all in vain.
    Now came the Ugly Sisters' go.
    One tried it on. The Prince screamed, 'No!'
    But she screamed, 'Yes! It fits! Whoopee!
    'So now you've got to marry me!'
    The Prince went white from ear to ear.
    He muttered, 'Let me out of here.'
    'Oh no you don't! You made a vow!
    'There's no way you can back out now!'
    'Off with her head!' The Prince roared back.
    They chopped it off with one big whack.
    This pleased the Prince. He smiled and said,
    'She's prettier without her head.'
    Then up came Sister Number Two,
    Who yelled, 'Now I will try the shoe!'
    'Try this instead!' the Prince yelled back.
    He swung his trusty sword and smack
    Her head went crashing to the ground.
    It bounced a bit and rolled around.
    In the kitchen, peeling spuds,
    Cinderella heard the thuds
    Of bouncing heads upon the floor,
    And poked her own head round the door.
    'What's all the racket? 'Cindy cried.
    'Mind your own bizz,' the Prince replied.
    Poor Cindy's heart was torn to shreds.
    My Prince! she thought. He chops off heads!
    How could I marry anyone
    Who does that sort of thing for fun?

    The Prince cried, 'Who's this dirty slut?
    'Off with her nut! Off with her nut!'
    Just then, all in a blaze of light,
    The Magic Fairy hove in sight,
    Her Magic Wand went swoosh and swish!
    'Cindy! 'she cried, 'come make a wish!
    'Wish anything and have no doubt
    'That I will make it come about!'
    Cindy answered, 'Oh kind Fairy,
    'This time I shall be more wary.
    'No more Princes, no more money.
    'I have had my taste of honey.
    I'm wishing for a decent man.
    'They're hard to find. D'you think you can?'
    Within a minute, Cinderella
    Was married to a lovely feller,
    A simple jam maker by trade,
    Who sold good home-made marmalade.
    Their house was filled with smiles and laughter
    And they were happy ever after.

    More On This Poem

    Latest Shared Story

    Yes, Roald Dahl has a whole book of revolting rhymes like this one. You should read it. Hilarious.

    Share your story!

  6. 4. The Horse Ride

    This poem is a lyrical laugh! I hope it makes people smile.

    Taking a romantic ride today,
    We sat upon the wagon.
    Suddenly the horse lifted his tail
    And we heard a roaring dragon!

    The deafening sound hurt my ears
    And the smell burned the hairs in my nose.
    My girlfriend sat and glared at me.
    Somehow my fault I suppose.

    It was my idea to take the ride,
    But how was I to know?
    It really wasn't in my plans;
    Didn't know the horse would blow.

    The noise and the smell were bad enough,
    As the wind blew quickly by.
    But I think the very worst of it,
    Was the brown stuff in my eye.

    My girlfriend's face turned angry red.
    So I figured I wouldn't dare,
    Advise her of the smelly pieces
    Of horse stuff in her hair.

    The horse finally stopped; my girl ran away,
    Stubbornly lifting her chin.
    I think that horse was enjoying himself,
    Cause I'm sure I saw him grin.

    A lesson learned for me today.
    Although I must confess,
    I laughed so hard I nearly cried
    As I wiped away the mess.

    More On This Poem

    Latest Shared Story

    To me this is the best poem I have read in a long time, so I am sending it to myself.

    Share your story!

  7. 5. Dead Is Dead

    When my father died some 30 years ago, his brother called and told me my dad had "expired." I wondered why he just didn't tell me he died. Since that time I have collected a list of euphemisms available for those who find it difficult to inform someone of a close relative's death by telling how it is. I find some of them quite funny, and perhaps you will too. I hope to hear from you sometime before I "occupy a horizontal phone booth."

    Funny Poem About Death

    When somebody dies, folks hardly ever say "dead."
    They prefer "expired" or "departed" instead.
    Most of the euphemisms don't do any harm,
    Like "biting the dust" or "buying the farm."

    There are "fallen off the perch" and "given up the ghost."
    "Taking a dirt nap" is one I like most.
    "Kicked the oxygen habit" and "gone offline"
    Are a couple favorites of mine.

    How about "at room temperature" or "fell off the twig,"
    "Wearing a toe tag" or "played his last gig"?
    "Bought a pine condo" and "six feet under,"
    "Became a root inspector" makes one wonder.

    Try "went belly up" and "bit the biscuit."
    "Laid down his burden" and never missed it.
    "Gone to his maker" and "out of print,"
    "In a horizontal phone booth" for a permanent stint.

    "Defunct," "extinct," and "in the crisper."
    Most say 'em no louder than a whisper.
    "Gone to sleep city" and "passed his sell by date,"
    "Cashed in his chips at the pearly gate."

    Now we could go on, but you get the point.
    Have a fun in life before "checking out of this joint,"
    And should you come to my funeral, don't bring a thing.
    Just sit back and listen to the fat lady sing.

    More On This Poem

    Latest Shared Story

    I found this poem very refreshing and true. Very good.

    Share your story!

  8. 6. Smart Phone - Dumb User

    As I grow older, I find that technology gets more and more frightening, every day. Maybe I should go live in the woods.

    New Technology And Old People

    My new phone is "smart." I guess that I'm not.
    Amazing what all this here smart phone has got.
    TV and Weather and Internet, too.
    There's just no limits to what it can do.
    Check my blood pressure and my temperature
    Without even probing all my apertures.
    I now know the time in Paris or Greece.
    I can track the migration of thousands of geese
    Or find Chinese food; it's here on this map.
    Oops, my finger just slipped, now where was that at?
    A camera...a CAMERA! Now I can take shots
    Of everyone I know (who'd rather I not).
    Push this here button and take me a "selfie."
    (If it had a nose would this thing take a "smellfie"?)
    Email to pester with, video to shoot,
    Maps to drive 'round with, wow that's a hoot!
    A compass to guide me home if I'm lost.
    Thank God work paid for this thing (what it COSTS!).
    The things that it does would amaze Mr. Bell.
    What he would have thought of it, no one can tell,
    But one question's still stuck in my middle-aged craw.
    Despite all the gizmos that strike me with awe,
    They're fun and they're useful and "techy" and all
    ...But how do I just simply make a phone call?

    More On This Poem

    Latest Shared Story

    Just a note of appreciation to Mr. Cotton. My 10-year-old son selected this poem for his poetry recital (google search: funny poems over 1 minute) and won first place out of over 200...

    Read complete story

    Share your story!

  9. 7. My Freaking Alarm

    I loathe my alarm clock on a work day LOL

    Waking Up In The Morning

    As I lay cozy, all snug in my bed,
    I enjoy the imagination inside my head
    Until I hear racket beside my bed.
    It's my 5:00 alarm!

    I quickly silent you, you annoying alarm.
    Then we SNOOZE together and let dreams carry on.
    Enjoying the peace, then I'll be darned;
    It's my 5:15 reminder!

    Now I hush the ringing of my reminder.
    Ok Alarm, let's put that behind us.
    Eyes just shut, but here goes that timer
    It's 7:20. I'm late!!!

    More On This Poem

    Latest Shared Story

    The poem is absolutely cool. Man it has happened to me not more than a hundred times.

    Share your story!

  10. 8. Requiem For Old Shoes

    • By Robert Armitage
    •  Published by Family Friend Poems May 2014

    I would have described this poem as sentimental rather than funny. Though I suppose you could say mock-sentimental. It originally came from an exercise, in a creative writing group, which was to describe a pair of old shoes, so the reader thought of death, without that word being mentioned.

    The original version perhaps did that best with the first line - "They walked through life together" and another line about corpses cold. However the death stipulation is unnecessary here.

    Poem About the Life of Shoes

    They looked good, at first, together,
    tight laced and polished smart,
    but wear and tear destroyed them:
    A tale to break your heart!

    They cannot speak,
    for their tongues are torn,
    yet leathery wrinkles convey
    that treatment is rough
    and times are tough,
    being trod on, day after day.

    Down at heel,
    scuffed at toe
    and moving
    'mongst the low,
    their soles both left their bodies
    'cause the stitches, all, did go.

    Soil, not socks, now fills them
    and hollow are their eyes,
    within a peaceful garden
    each flower atop them sighs.

    More On This Poem

    Latest Shared Story

    Loved this poem. Very smart and funny too. Well done!

    Share your story!

  11. 9. Ripped Pants, Broken Heart

    I ripped my pants at the knee today. In my distress, I mourned them for nearly thirteen minutes. This poem will be read as a eulogy at the funeral, where all my pants' friends-including that weird kilt they met once, will attend. Please be mindful of this somber affair, as I need time to recover from the loss.

    Humorous Poem About Ripping Pants

    I lived my life, I tried my best to follow all my dreams.
    My great endeavors were forever bursting at the seams.
    And though I tried to love what's mine, I failed and I confess
    My bony knees made pants like these suffer much distress

    I heard a tearing sound, and I thought it was my heart
    When I looked down with a frown, my pants did fall apart.
    The ripping sound was not around at the greatest time
    For when my knee skin felt cold air, it was less than sublime

    And now I live my life, knee bare against the world alone.
    Now everyone can plainly see my pale skin, joint, and bone.
    My ripped up pants, like Frankenstein, I may just sew together
    Or perhaps make my pants shorts to wear in warmer weather.

    My pants are done, I have moved on. They've done their master well.
    And pants don't live forever, not as far as I can tell.
    But there's one problem I can't solve, and it I truly hate.
    Does one bury their old dead pants, or do they just cremate?

    More On This Poem

    Latest Shared Story

    This is one of the best humor poems I have ever read!! I remember reciting the poem in a competition in grade seven. Not only did it win me first prize, it also got me a lot of praise....

    Read complete story

    Share your story!

  12. 10. The Pig

    In this poem, Roald Dahl shares about a pig that contemplates his purpose in life. When he realizes he is going to end up on someone’s dinner plate, he takes matters into his own hands. Roald Dahl’s poems and stories are known for dark humor and unexpected endings.

    In England once there lived a big
    And wonderfully clever pig.
    To everybody it was plain
    That Piggy had a massive brain.
    He worked out sums inside his head,
    There was no book he hadn't read.
    He knew what made an airplane fly,
    He knew how engines worked and why.
    He knew all this, but in the end
    One question drove him round the bend:
    He simply couldn't puzzle out
    What LIFE was really all about.
    What was the reason for his birth?
    Why was he placed upon this earth?
    His giant brain went round and round.
    Alas, no answer could be found.
    Till suddenly one wondrous night.
    All in a flash he saw the light.
    He jumped up like a ballet dancer
    And yelled, 'By gum, I've got the answer! '
    'They want my bacon slice by slice
    'To sell at a tremendous price!
    'They want my tender juicy chops
    'To put in all the butcher's shops!
    'They want my pork to make a roast
    'And that's the part'll cost the most!
    'They want my sausages in strings!
    'They even want my chitterlings!
    'The butcher's shop! The carving knife!
    'That is the reason for my life! '
    Such thoughts as these are not designed
    To give a pig great peace of mind.
    Next morning, in comes Farmer Bland,
    A pail of pigswill in his hand,
    And piggy with a mighty roar,
    Bashes the farmer to the floor…
    Now comes the rather grisly bit
    So let's not make too much of it,
    Except that you must understand
    That Piggy did eat Farmer Bland,
    He ate him up from head to toe,
    Chewing the pieces nice and slow.
    It took an hour to reach the feet,
    Because there was so much to eat,
    And when he finished, Pig, of course,
    Felt absolutely no remorse.
    Slowly he scratched his brainy head
    And with a little smile he said,
    'I had a fairly powerful hunch
    'That he might have me for his lunch.
    'And so, because I feared the worst,
    'I thought I'd better eat him first.'

    More On This Poem

    Latest Shared Story

    I like this poem because it is contrary to what is normal, as the pig tries to eat the farmer instead of the other way around and it shows the power of humans over all other living things....

    Read complete story

    Share your story!

  13. 11. Little Red Riding Hood And The Wolf

    This poem was published in Revolting Rhymes, a collection of six Roald Dahl poems published in 1982. Each poem is a parody of a traditional folk tale. He provides a re-interpretation and surprise ending instead of the traditional happily-ever-after ending. Read to find out the gory twist in this Little Red Riding Hood story.

    As soon as Wolf began to feel
    That he would like a decent meal,
    He went and knocked on Grandma's door.
    When Grandma opened it, she saw
    The sharp white teeth, the horrid grin,
    And Wolfie said, 'May I come in?'
    Poor Grandmamma was terrified,
    'He's going to eat me up!' she cried.
    And she was absolutely right.
    He ate her up in one big bite.
    But Grandmamma was small and tough,
    And Wolfie wailed, 'That's not enough!
    I haven't yet begun to feel
    That I have had a decent meal!'
    He ran around the kitchen yelping,
    'I've got to have a second helping!'

    Then added with a frightful leer,
    'I'm therefore going to wait right here
    Till Little Miss Red Riding Hood
    Comes home from walking in the wood.'

    He quickly put on Grandma's clothes,
    (Of course he hadn't eaten those).
    He dressed himself in coat and hat.
    He put on shoes, and after that,
    He even brushed and curled his hair,
    Then sat himself in Grandma's chair.

    In came the little girl in red.
    She stopped. She stared. And then she said,
    'What great big ears you have, Grandma.'
    'All the better to hear you with,'
    the Wolf replied.
    'What great big eyes you have, Grandma.'
    said Little Red Riding Hood.
    'All the better to see you with,'
    the Wolf replied.
    He sat there watching her and smiled.
    He thought, I'm going to eat this child.
    Compared with her old Grandmamma,
    She's going to taste like caviar.

    Then Little Red Riding Hood said, '
    But Grandma, what a lovely great big
    furry coat you have on.'

    'That's wrong!' cried Wolf.
    'Have you forgot
    To tell me what BIG TEETH I've got?
    Ah well, no matter what you say,
    I'm going to eat you anyway.'

    The small girl smiles. One eyelid flickers.
    She whips a pistol from her knickers.
    She aims it at the creature's head,
    And bang bang bang, she shoots him dead.

    A few weeks later, in the wood,
    I came across Miss Riding Hood.
    But what a change! No cloak of red,
    No silly hood upon her head.
    She said, 'Hello, and do please note
    My lovely furry wolfskin coat.'

    More On This Poem

    Latest Shared Story

    Hi, my name is Mary, and I really like to read the Roald Dahl poems because they are really funny.

    Share your story!

  14. 12. After The Operation

    • By Barbara Turner
    •  Published by Family Friend Poems September 2008

    My husband had the cataracts removed from his eyes. It was then that I got to thinking about how well he would see after the operation and more important, would he like what he'd see?

    So now he has had his eyes done,
    and at last he can see,

    but I was a bit worried,
    what would he think of me?

    You see, he hadn't seen me,
    out of two good eyes,

    would I be a total shock,
    or a nice surprise?

    He said "my God, you are almost grey,
    you're eyes are much too small,

    you are old and fat and ugly,
    I'm not impressed at all"

    But as I sat there crying,
    I suddenly noticed that---

    he wasn't looking my way,
    but talking to the cat!!

    so yes I think he's very pleased
    with all that he can see

    He thinks every thing is lovely,
    and that includes me!!

    More On This Poem

    Latest Shared Story

    this poem is great, I would say..
    I loved it a lot, we need a poem for our project and I chose this one..thanks a lot..it's funny

    Share your story!

  15. 13. Confessions Of A Serial Plant Killer

    Limericks about not having a Green Thumb, This poem is written in limerick form. I enjoy writing humorous rhyming poems, and this one is based on my personal experience (or should I say, lack of experience) with indoor plants.

    Oh, I wish that I had a green thumb.
    All my houseplants are looking quite glum.
    I never can tell
    Why they're looking unwell
    Or why so many succumb.

    Have I failed to give enough water?
    Have I watered them more than I oughta?
    Are they getting too hot?
    Is this not the right spot?
    It's like sending poor lambs to the slaughter.

    The hard, undeniable fact is
    Many succulents, ferns and a cactus,
    A begonia, a fig,
    Many palms, small and big,
    Have been victims of my malpractice.

    I confess I'm a serial killer.
    Many end up as mulch or land filler.
    I kill far more plants
    Than snails, thrips or ants.
    Or an army of green caterpillar!

    Though houseplants are deemed beneficial,
    Should these perish, then it is official:
    I'll waste no more dough
    Just to watch 'em die slow,
    For my next plants will be artificial!

    More On This Poem

    Latest Shared Story

    Greetings, fellow Aussie! Yes, "the care we inflict"....well put. Thanks, Raelene, for the kind feedback.

    Share your story!

  16. 14. Our TV Set Was Black And White

    I was reminiscing about the early days of television before the advent of the remote control, recorders, twin tuners, streaming, etc. We now take for granted the technology that allows us so much choice (some would say too much choice) as to what we watch and when and how we watch it. No more abandoning your coffee making and sprinting back to the living room to shouts of, "It's on!!"

    Childhood Memories Of Watching Television

    Our TV set was black and white
    And on its spindly legs it stood;
    More deep than wide with dials that clicked,
    All curved glass screen and grain of wood.

    The screen was all of twenty inches,
    Far away, way over there.
    But you dared not creep up closer,
    Lest your eyes would soon turn square.

    A whole four channels from which to choose
    Until they bid goodnight and closed;
    From late night until mid-morning,
    Static noise and screen of snow.

    If you wished to change the channel,
    Across the room you had to trek.
    Then risk the loss of decent picture,
    Rabbit ears were not high tech.

    An exercise in mad frustration,
    Swiveling, angling to and fro.
    Yes! Stop there! The picture's "perfect,"
    Right until you let them go.

    If your show aired once a week,
    Then one whole week you had to wait;
    No binge watching or recording.
    If you missed it, bad luck mate!

    At times your programs overlapped
    And that dilemma left you vexed -
    Miss the end of the one you're watching
    Or the beginning of the next?

    All those ads with corny jingles,
    Some of them were hard to take;
    No fast forward and no pausing,
    Just enough time for a bathroom break.

    Or maybe not!...it was a gamble,
    So it really must be said,
    Though black and white it might have been,
    At times it had me seeing red!

    More On This Poem

    Latest Shared Story

    Hi Raelene. Thanks so much for taking the time to comment on my poems. I really appreciate the kind feedback.
    Kind regards, Cynthia

    Share your story!

  17. 15. Willis

    This is a true story about a friend of ours who would ride his horse into town to the local saloon for a few chug-a-lugs, but one day his luck ran out and guess what? Yep, got caught by the officers.

    A Cowboy And His Horse

    Willis the cowpoke rode into town
    On his Old Jugs, just horsing around.
    Down highway 26 he rode Old Jugs
    To the local saloon for a few chug-a-lugs.

    Tying to a flag pole, Old Jugs he did hitch.
    Into the saloon, a thirst he did quench.
    An officer steps up and warns with a frown,
    "Get on your horse and ride out of town!"

    The sheriff is coming not far behind.
    Old Jugs to the shelter and Willis a fine,
    So Willis, he jumps on Old Jugs and replies,
    “Not my horse to the shelter, you will not take.
    I'll ride him on home; no law will I break."

    The sheriff steps up and says to dismount.
    A test of sobriety we must have the count.
    The charge was drunk driving while riding on Jugs.
    A steep fine to pay for a few chug-a-lugs.

    A riled up Willis spent the night in the tank
    To pay for a charge he claimed not to make.
    Down to the courthouse he'll saddle up and ride
    To face his accusers with Old Jugs by his side.

    But we all know when it's all said and done,
    He'll saddle Old Jugs and ride into town for

    A few chug-a-lugs.

    More On This Poem

    Latest Shared Story

    These men get very well acquainted with their horses, their ole pals you might say, The clumping of horse hooves, the whinney demand for carrots and sugar cubes, the barn yard smell. kinda...

    Read complete story

    Share your story!

  18. 16. The Car

    • By Ron Miler
    •  Published by Family Friend Poems May 2014

    Ever have car trouble and the explanation of the problems can be very confusing especially for us not car repair people? Sometimes the explanation could just as well be in Greek.

    Funny Poem About Not Understanding Your Mechanic

    I was heading south to the city's biggest shopping center
    To get a steak and other things that I could eat for dinner.
    Then I noticed, luckily, I was nearly out of gas.
    So, I headed for the Stall-Mart store out near the overpass.
    Just as I pulled up, the engine somehow died.
    I couldn't get it started no matter how I tried.
    At that moment I noticed an old man walking with a cane.
    He cringed each time he stepped as if he was in pain.
    With a toothless smile, he asked me, "Fella, what's the problem?"
    I told him that my car just died and problems, man, I got 'em.
    He said, "Give me a few minutes to find out why it's dead."
    He opened the hood and in just thirty seconds he turned to me and said,
    "Hmmmmmm......Well........
    You have a blasticated unicellular caustic tad malfunction.
    The generator pottsigraft has lost most of it's suction.
    You have tubular antispiral mispopulated slippage.
    And the plastic-nozzeled harpsitube needs a brand new tippage.
    The lesser of all your problems that I find you got
    Is that the double crypted intake valve really squeaks a lot.
    And my professional assessment that I've done thus far,
    Tells me that this heap is crap and you need another car.
    I can sell you a slightly used cream-puff if you want to take her.
    It's a 19 and 43 fully loaded Studebaker.
    It runs real good and looks real sharp and has only a few small dents.
    I'll let you have it for 600 dollars and 37 cents,
    Plus my complete diagnostic examination that I've done today.
    So can we make a gentleman's deal? What do you have to say?"
    Hmmmm....
    As I was walking home I noticed a shiny bicycle for sale.......

    More On This Poem

    Latest Shared Story

    Yeah, it did. It's called a cliff hanger, so all in all they did have a proper ending. *shrug

    Share your story!

  19. 17. A Boy Named Sue

    "A Boy Named Sue" is a poem by Shel Silverstein that has been made popular by Johnny Cash. Cash was at the height of his popularity when he recorded the song live at California's San Quentin State Prison at a concert on February 24, 1969. The concert was filmed by Granada Television for later television broadcast. The audio of the concert was later released on Cash's At San Quentin album. Cash also performed the song (with comical variations on the original performance) in December 1969 at Madison Square Garden.

    Well, my daddy left home when I was three,
    and he didn't leave much to Ma and me,
    just this old guitar and a bottle of booze.
    Now I don't blame him because he run and hid,
    but the meanest thing that he ever did was
    before he left he went and named me Sue.

    Well, he must have thought it was quite a joke,
    and it got lots of laughs from a lot of folks,
    it seems I had to fight my whole life through.
    Some gal would giggle and I'd get red
    and some guy would laugh and I'd bust his head,
    I tell you, life ain't easy for a boy named Sue.

    Well, I grew up quick and I grew up mean.
    My fist got hard and my wits got keen.
    Roamed from town to town to hide my shame,
    but I made me a vow to the moon and the stars,
    I'd search the honky tonks and bars and kill
    that man that gave me that awful name.

    But it was Gatlinburg in mid July and I had
    just hit town and my throat was dry.
    I'd thought i'd stop and have myself a brew.
    At an old saloon in a street of mud
    and at a table dealing stud sat the dirty,
    mangy dog that named me Sue.

    Well, I knew that snake was my own sweet dad
    from a worn-out picture that my mother had
    and I knew the scar on his cheek and his evil eye.
    He was big and bent and gray and old
    and I looked at him and my blood ran cold,
    and I said, "My name is Sue. How do you do?
    Now you're gonna die." Yeah, that's what I told him.

    Well, I hit him right between the eyes and he went down
    but to my surprise he came up with a knife
    and cut off a piece of my ear. But I busted a chair
    right across his teeth. And we crashed through
    the wall and into the street kicking and a-gouging
    in the mud and the blood and the beer.

    I tell you I've fought tougher men but I really can't remember when.
    He kicked like a mule and bit like a crocodile.
    I heard him laughin' and then I heard him cussin',
    he went for his gun and I pulled mine first.
    He stood there looking at me and I saw him smile.

    And he said, "Son, this world is rough and if
    a man's gonna make it, he's gotta be tough
    and I knew I wouldn't be there to help you along.
    So I gave you that name and I said 'Goodbye'.
    I knew you'd have to get tough or die. And it's
    that name that helped to make you strong."

    Yeah, he said, "Now you have just fought one
    helluva fight, and I know you hate me and you've
    got the right to kill me now and I wouldn't blame you
    if you do. But you ought to thank me
    before I die for the gravel in your guts and the spit
    in your eye because I'm the guy that named you Sue."
    Yeah, what could I do? What could I do?

    I got all choked up and I threw down my gun,
    called him pa and he called me a son,
    and I came away with a different point of view
    and I think about him now and then.
    Every time I tried, every time I win and if I
    ever have a son I think I am gonna name him
    Bill or George - anything but Sue.

    More On This Poem

    Latest Shared Story

    Johnny Cash was the right person to sing these lyrics. He made an interesting song from an awesome poem. Very entertaining. Love it!
    Jac. Judy A. Campbell

    Share your story!

  20. 18. The Ballad Of Daylight Savings Time

    Every year, it rolls around, to be greeted with groans, eye-rolling, and an intense desire to sleep in late. Yet we dutifully do it. Is there a bonus to Daylight savings Time? Hmmmmm.

    What's with this Daylight Savings Time?
    It steals our sleeping, snoozing time
    Roll out of bed and take a breath
    And feel like microwaved-reheated death

    Seven o'clock? That just can't be
    It's way too dark out there to see
    Coffee? Yes, I need two cups
    To get my sluggish body up

    And hit the road before the sun
    For Monday's way-too-early "fun"
    It's lunchtime? HUH? I just GOT here!
    My head is just now barely clear

    Afternoon meeting? How can that be?
    I thought it was one...HOW IS IT THREE???
    The end of day has almost come
    The day flew by...it's almost done!

    Five o'clock, well that's just fine!
    I LIKE this daylight Savings Time!

    More On This Poem

    Latest Shared Story

    Daylight saving can either be a blessing or a curse. Thanks for the laugh. Australia is currently enjoying summer daylight saving time. Loved the verse.

    Share your story!

  21. 19. A 21st Century Visit From Santa

    • By Brooke Jones
    •  Published by Family Friend Poems December 2010

    The classic "A Visit From Santa" MEETS Thomas Friedman's "The World Is Flat" in what could well become a new holiday classic. The birth of the world wide web has changed everything, forever, and for those not prepared, earning a living could be a challenge.

    T'was the night before Christmas, and all through the house
    Not a creature was sleeping -- not pet, child or spouse.
    The people were tossing and turning in beds
    With visions of bills dancing 'round in their heads.
    Their wood chairs were stacked in the fireplace by three's
    If it burns through the night then the family won't freeze.

    Then out on the street they heard glass start to shatter
    They jumped up in fright with their teeth all a-chatter
    They peeked out their windows and under the stars,
    saw a red-suited fat man repossessing their cars.
    He tied each to his sled and affixed them with chains
    Then plopped in his seat and snapped with his reins:

    "On Beemer, on Caddie, on Lexus, and Ford,
    On Volvo, on Prius, on Honda Accord."

    Then off he did fly like a lumbering float
    But not before he had texted this note:

    "Beware dear America, for you've not seen the light
    You still think 'the good life' is your natural birth right.
    Thanks to Internet access, this world's grown quite small
    The Windows are open where once there were walls.
    The Earth may look round, but it's flattening fast
    And those now in first place may soon be in last.

    Study science and math -- learn a skill that is new,
    If you don't, your job prospects are sure to be few.
    Your Santa's been outsourced -- I'm a Bangalore Gnome
    Your bank has just emailed -- they've foreclosed on your home
    And not long ago your boss faxed to say
    You've just lost your job and your 401-K"

    Then off in the distance we heard him opine:
    "There are millions in Asia now standing in line!
    Merry Christmas to all and to all lots o' luck
    Take heed of my words or you'll surely be *^#*ed".

    More On This Poem

    Latest Shared Story

    Why does this sound like it may happen... Awesome poem by the way.

    Share your story!

  22. 20. The Neighbour's Dog

    Based on a true event. A neighbours barking dog led Bazza to howl and bark in the middle of the road with unexpected consequences.

    Barking Dogs And Their Consequences

    Our street was once a peaceful place
    Kids played and you could jog
    But our tranquil life was shattered
    When the neighbour got a dog.

    The thing would howl all through the day
    And even after dark
    And just as you tried to go to sleep...
    The mongrel thing would bark.

    It soiled all the lawns, but his
    It chased the Postie's bike
    And anyone who whined at all
    Was told to "Take a hike!"

    Old Bazza asked the owner straight
    To silence the ugly brute
    But the neighbour said
    "My dog don't bark!"
    "And I think he's rather cute."

    The neighbourhood was up in arms
    So of his own volition
    Old Bazza went from door to door
    And took up a petition.

    The Council gravely listened
    Then notified the Pound
    Who gave the bloke a warning
    But didn't take the hound.

    One night Bazza came home late
    (He'd had a lot to drink)
    And when the thing began to howl
    It pushed him to the brink.

    He parked the car down near the curb
    Then with bonnet lifted wide
    He blasted on the air horns
    Until the battery died.

    Not satisfied his point was made
    Into the street he strode
    Then barked and howled for all to hear
    In the middle of the road.

    "Woof Woof, Bloody Woof Woof!"
    He yelled it out with force
    Until all the neighbours were awake
    And he was nearly hoarse.

    But his goings-on were tempered
    By a team of Police in black
    Who suddenly appeared en masse
    And cut short his attack.

    They tackled him and put him down
    His shorts and shirt were torn
    His face was in the wood chip
    And his hair wore bits of lawn.

    Now Bazza is a legend
    And he takes great pains to tell
    How the mutt next door could howl and bark
    And give the neighbours hell

    He could foul the grass and bite the kids
    And never get molested
    But when Bazza tried to do the same
    He promptly got arrested.

    More On This Poem

    Latest Shared Story

    I enjoy writing poetry about real events and real people. The "Bazza" who's featured in many of my poems is a quirky character whose fondness for the practical joke often gets him into...

    Read complete story

    Share your story!

1 - 20 of 43 Poems

Back to Top