Humorous Poems - Page 3

How high's the snowfall, Mama?
"One foot high and rising!"

I'll eat my food and watch the game.
The snow last year was just the same.
I'll gorge myself and loosen my belt.
I know that stuff will only melt.

How high's the snowfall, Mama?
"Two feet high and rising!"

Don't worry Mama, it's okay.
An early thaw is on the way!
Relax, my dear, enjoy the fire.
This snow won't make it any higher!

How high's the snowfall, Mama?
"Four feet high and rising!!"

Okay! Okay! We'll compromise!

I'll get the shovels, you get the guys!
Let's bring this white stuff down to size!
It won't take long to make the run.
We'll build a snowman when we're done!

How high's the snowfall, Mama?
"Six feet high and rising!!"

We cleared a path to the outhouse now,
Thanks to our trusty John Deere plow!
You gotta go? Then do it soon,
Or you might not make back 'til June!

How high's the snowfall, Mama?
"Eight feet high and rising!!!"

The snow's still comin'! It's gotten colder!
Better get the front-end loader!
And we might need an army tank!
We just lost Fred in a huge snowbank!

How high's the snowfall, Mama?
"Land sakes!! It's ten feet high and rising!!!!"

The outhouse now is not in sight!
I gotta whiz, but that's all right!
Make sure you got some pots to spare,
We're gonna need to go...somewhere!

How high's the snowfall, Mama?
"(Sigh).... Take a look outside!!!"

We gotta get this window cleared!
Frank and Tom have disappeared!
It's buried our new car and truck!
It looks like we're plum outta luck!!

How high's the snowfall, Mama?
"Zzzzz... Zzzzz... Zzzzz... Zzzzz...."

Well I'm tired, too, so I'm relaxing,
Even though the roof's collapsing!
It's nice and warm here by the fire.
I know this snow won't get no higher!

Oh, no!!!......We're outta firewood!!!!
.........MAMA!!!!!

On goes the PC
Wonder who has messaged me
Loading up my Facebook
Gotta have a quick look
Ouch, somebody's poked me
Words with friends?
There's just three
I see a funny picture
I liked it so I ticked ya
Facebook, Facebook, Facebook rap
When this poem's done
I'll go for a nap
I check my FB in the morning
and I check it in the night
I check my FB when it's dark
And I check it when it's light
Oh Mr. Zucker
What have you done
I can't get away
However fast I run
Oh Facebook, it's everywhere
It's like I'm breathing it in
It's like unnatural air
It's illegal to have Facebook
When you're under age
But everywhere I go
I hear people say
"You got a Facebook page?"

My horse is there in front of me
Clip-cloppin' down the road.
He stops and flips his tail straight up
And drops another load.

My cows dump in the meadow,
My chickens foul their coop,
And flies are buzzin' 'round and 'round
Eatin' all that poop.

The sheep are out there bleatin'...
I gotta' get a grip!
The stupid things are standin'
Knee-deep in their dip!

I swear on this here farm
There's every barnyard species,
And each and every one of them
Is makin' tons of feces.

I'm tired of smellin' livestock.
I'd like to take a nap.
But I can't sleep 'cause I dream of
Hogs wallowin' in their crap.

Now my wife is in the kitchen
Cookin' soup du jour,
But nothin' smells real good to me;
I'm surrounded by manure.

Spring has sprung, the time has come, for the greening of the trees
A time of change, renewal and growth for my allergies
Like everything else in this great world, Spring has its pluses and minuses
But its features are quite singular when it comes to my poor sinuses
A beautiful time of blossoms and buds, new branches and blue skies
But I can't enjoy them one little bit through my oozing, watery eyes
A neti pot, a nasal rinse, I'll try them, yes I will
I'll even take a 24-hour non-drowsy worthless pill
So listen cheerleaders of flowers and sun, to you I must disclose
Spring is not great for all of us, especially my nose

They said I was an "old fart"
But I hardly think that's true
My boobs were done in '75
But my teeth and knees are new.

And since my eyes were lasered
I have 20/20 sight
Though I like to sit on 50 k
And hate to drive at night.

All in all I object to "old"
But "fart" is another matter
For I think the valves that seal the gas
Now leak as I've got fatter.

To add to the indignity
And make me feel antique
Sometimes when I sneeze or cough
I spring a little leak.

So if you're feeling young and smug
With a body like brand new
Just remember in 30 years
This figure may be you!

Back in October a Christmas wish I made.
A brand new set of golf clubs before next year I played.
Then on Christmas morn, with my eyes I spied
An oblong box under the tree, with ribbon wrapped and tied.

I looked out the window and saw the ice and snow.
But in my heart I knew, a golfing I would go.
Now I'd need some special gear to play in these conditions.
So I loaded up my golf bag to start a new tradition.

A broom to sweep the greens and a hammer for the tees
And different colored balls for white I wouldn't see.
Arriving at the course, the ground was glistening white.
I wouldn't have to wait, a tee time was no plight.

I swept away a pile of snow and pounded in a tee.
Placed a colored ball atop it and swung away with glee.
My ball went soaring down the fairway and landed with a flop
Into a two foot snow drift (unplayable), take a drop.

My next shot went into the sand, a shot to truly dread.
Then all at once I spotted him, a man all dressed in red.
As I'm lining up my shot, it's Santa Claus I think,
When my ball flew in the hole, He looked at me and winked.

I knew these clubs were going to work, I'd just made a par.
Let's play one hole together before heading for your car.
To believe in Santa at sixteen, you might think it queer,
But it isn't very often you get to see reindeer.

A long par par three lay next, as we walked upon the tee.
There was no flag to aim for and the green I couldn't see
Don't worry said the man in red, I know what lies ahead.
Use your trusty five iron and aim it for my sled.

I'd like to thank you for these clubs, I wasn't sure that I would get.
He said your welcome son, but Christmas isn't over yet
I kept my head nice and still checked my stance and grip.
"Nice shot" said the bearded one, it's hanging on the lip.

It seems a shame, he must be blind, there's no ball upon the green
And I was disappointed because I stuck it crisp and clean
And now you know my story and know one would believe.
How I made my first hole in one with Santa there to see.

I've looked all over, but I don't know where
I got stuck with all this hair.
Some hair's where there once was none!
I must have more than anyone!

Hair on my head and hair on my toes,
Near and on and up my nose.
Hair in my ears and hair on my face.
That gosh darn hair's all over the place!

I got hair on my hands and on my hips,
Around my eyes and on my lips.
My tongue, my back, my chest and neck.
How can I keep this hair in check?!

It's under my arms, on top of 'em, too.
Around my tummy, but what can I do?!
My ankles, fingers, elbows, knees!
"Give me a razor, will ya, please?!"

So tell me why! Is there a reason?
Maybe I'm in werewolf season!
Or maybe I'm a nice gorilla,
Bigfoot, bear or huge chinchilla!

Or maybe I'm a cute alpaca,
Or a racka... or Chewbacca!!
But one thing puts my mind at ease;
At least I don't have any fleas!!

So now, while looking in the mirror,
I see myself a little clearer.
A lot of hair is what I see.
"OMG!... It's really me!"

Know what? I like it, after all!
It cushions me if I should fall!
I know it may look awfully wild,
But better once I've had it styled.

A body perm might fill the bill
And really test a stylist's skill.
A dye job, too, would be attractive,
But that might be over reactive.

So, at the dresser's I will note,
"No, it's not a furry coat!
It's just my hair!" I'll say to him,
"Do your best, please... just a trim."

There once was a girl named Sue.
She came down with the case of the flu.
She let out a sigh,
"My temperature is high,
what ever shall I do?
Oh my! Oh my!
I think I will die.
What ever shall I do?"

So, she stumbled out of bed.
"I know I'll take some meds.
If this the flu,
I take an aspirin or two.
Then I'll drink some broth and some juice.
Oh my! Oh my!"
she began to cry.
"I think this is acute."

So, she grumbled back to bed
and pulled the covers over her head.
She let out a sneeze,
a cough and a wheeze.
"Won't someone help me, please?
Oh my! Oh my!
Will I survive
the case of the crazy flu?"

So, she finally fell asleep.
She slept and slept for a week.
She tossed and turned,
her symptoms have passed.
Her temperature normal at last.
"Oh my! Oh my!
I think I survived
this case of the crazy flu."

King Hero of old Syracuse had doubts that made him frown.
"Perhaps my goldsmith did not use pure gold to make the crown."
Since proof of mischief must be strong to put a thief in collar,
The king who feared his judgment wrong called on his science scholar.
"Archimedes, friend of old, find me the solution!
Is my crown pure solid gold, or is that an illusion?"
The scholar's task was serious; he struggled hard with math.
His mind was near delirious until he poured his bath.
He noticed how the water pushed him up as he stepped in.
He thought about it harder as he stroked his bearded chin.
"The weight of displaced liquid should always let me know
When any golden solid has a density too low!"
"Eureka!" he resounded. "I have such a clever mind".
Yet his claim was unfounded 'cause he left his clothes behind!

On New Year's Day my cat ran away
For Valentine's Day, no girls mould be mine
On St. Patty's day I got pinched by some laddys
On Easter I lost all my eggs to an old geezer
Om mother's day I went to see my father play
On father's day I went to see my mother Fay
For the fourth of July, I shot some poor guy
On Labor Day, I lost my job by midday
For Halloween, my costume got switched, so I was a queen
On Thanksgiving. My fire alarm started to ring
For Christmas I got syphilis
Next year I am staying home for the holidays

My dear wife studies Calculus.
She says it's fun; I think she's nuts.
She's solving x and y and z.
I struggle with just 1, 2, 3.
She's got these weird and strange equations,
Mathematical madness machinations,
Exponents and integers.
Not many brains are wired like hers.
She can do it, get solutions.
For me, page one is mass confusion.
Words are my thing, heaven knows,
And I can fling some witty prose.
I rhyme without the slightest reason.
Poems penned for every season,
But give me numbers? Oh, I'm lost!
My brain becomes a salad tossed!
So I'll just stick to poetry
And not advance past 1, 2, 3.
While Sweetie does her sums and graphs
And antiderivatives...just for laughs.

There is a Monster
Lurking inside our House
Causing a Disaster
Eating all our Cookies
Who we don't know
May be a Prankster
Catch it we must
Before all is Lost

At Night it Comes
Cookies it Ravishes
Not one he Leaves
Not a Crumb Remains

Cookies are Disappearing Fast
Laid a Trap we have
Catch it we Must
How we don't know
But catch him we Must

Caught in the Act
Caught Red Handed
Cookie in Hand
Munching with Pleasure
Thought she was Clever
Trapped by our Endeavor

Solomon and Guilty
Smiling and Red Faced
Cookie Monster, My Daughter
Never did we Falter
In our Quest
Erased and Disgraced
Cookie Monster Disaster.

By Shilpa

It seemed like a good idea at the time,
But looking back now, I cringe just a little.
I was so hungry and it WAS once mine,
The week old milk and peanut butter brittle.

It wasn't just the smell,
No it was something much worse,
Yet I had nothing to rid me of this unquenchable thirst

The crust was thick and the color was off,
The smell was foul and made me cough.
Not before long the stench filled the air,
What's that?
Oh goodness, do I see a hair?

Now wait just a minute, this isn't fair,
Oh please, I'm so hungry, what else is there?
I looked in the pantry and I looked in fridge,
I'll go to the store sooner or later.

The most horrible snack,
When nothing to eat,
I admit it, I did it,
I ate the gross treat.

Mary had a little lamb
And a baked potato.
Mary had a salad too,
Of lettuce and tomato.

Mary asked for wine to drink,
So Daddy poured her some.
But Mommy said, "If you drink that,
I'll whip your little bum!"

So Mary chose dessert instead;
She had a choice to make:
Should I have a slice of pie,
Or a piece of cake?

But Mary couldn't quite decide,
So she took a bite of each.
It seemed the pie was rancid plum,
And the cake was rotted peach.

She gagged and spat the gross stuff out,
And hurled on the floor.
'twas then her mother grabbed her hair
And threw her out the door.

Pigheaded Pete was an obstinate fool,
who argued no matter the topic,
shredding opinions with outrageous drool,
and anger that bordered psychotic.

While most folks ignored him or called him a jerk,
and shrugged off his need to be right,
on one night Pete drove Bill O'Reilly berserk,
who challenged our Pete to a fight.

Now Bill was a boxer when he was much younger,
and knew how to throw a good punch.
Outside where he dragged the poor twit with his anger,
young Peter's incisors went crunch.

Bill got real nervous when Pete called the coppers,
and shortly a lawsuit ensued.
He had no money to buy Pete new choppers,
and so Judge Alfredo was shrewd.

Judge sentenced the boxer to ten months of labor
inside Peter's house day and night.
And Bill had to listen to rubbish and blather,
to pigheaded Pete's great delight.

I marvel my pencil.
My special, long, wooden utensil.
I just can't keep my hands from it.
I got him from a friend, and we've been inseparable since.
I admit, I forgot to give him back.
However regrets, I do lack.
He scribbles my words, when I can't find what to say.
He makes my thoughts audible, and in a neat and clear way.
If I make any mistakes, he's always got my back.
On the end of his long orange body, there's a pink square that's always keeping me on track.
Though he's marked with the number 2, He'll always be number 1 in my book.
I will never over-accessorize him or cause any damage to his look.
Pens, markers, crayons: they just don't cut it for me.
My perfectly sharpened buddy, is all that I need!

A voyage abroad with my good wife Maude turned into a real mess
In need of some rest in Budapest, about all I got was stress
Then in France I took a chance on some pork a little too rare
I so regret that Monsieur's toilette was very crowded there

We never found out if the rain in Spain falls mainly in the plains
Because in Barcelona and again in Pamplona, I had severe head pains
Many a folk strolled through churches baroque, the greatest in the area
Only I felt blue stretched out on a pew, certain I had malaria

Europe had been tough, really rough, things had gotten out of hand
So we gathered our stuff and left in a huff to visit the holy land
Then I tripped on a boulder and bruised my shoulder; alas, we had to leave
'Cause wearing a sling in the early spring is awkward in Tel Aviv

Maude was irked that nothing had worked; still she said with a smile
"Let's conform and go someplace warm, maybe a tropical isle"
But a ruptured achilles in the Antilles I accomplished with astonishing ease
It laid me low, don't you know, as an intestinal disease in Belize

Clearly time to abort so we cut our trip short and headed to Colorado
To see the Canyon with mules for companions and demonstrate our bravado
No need for applause or an ovation because of anything we did dramatic
Just find me a shrink who doesn't drink and treats problems psychosomatic

Unsubscribe me from your mailing list.
You must think I'm a sap.
I don't even know you,
And I'd never buy your crap.

Unsubscribe me, friend, from e-mails
that want to threaten me
If I don't send them to ten others...
Let it be the death of me

Unsubscribe me please from Facebook.
I find that I don't care,
About the boring conversations
That I'm always finding there.

Unsubscribe me, too, from Twitter.
What a waste of time.
If I put a value on that site
It would be less than a dime.

My mailbox is so cluttered
I beg you on my knees,
Unsubscribe me, unsubscribe me.
Unsubscribe me, PLEEEEZE!