Hello PoetryVoting

Vote

Voting-Boards

Home

HomeFollowingInboxNotifications

Read

ReadLiftedFeedsHeartedHistoryMy poemsNew poem

Explore

ExploreOrbitsWordsTagsClassics
Log in
0
Stars
0
Embers
0
Alerts
0
Inbox

Vote

Voting-Boards

Home

HomeFollowingInboxNotifications

Read

ReadLiftedFeedsHeartedHistoryMy poemsNew poem

Explore

ExploreOrbitsWordsTagsClassics
Log in
0
Stars
0
Embers
0
Alerts
0
Inbox

Flatulent Ben

There was a young lad, whose name was Ben,

And he had the worst gas of all of his friends,

Every time he’d cut the cheese,

He’d bring them pleading to their knees.

 

“Please Ben, be a friend, and go seek some help,

For your gas is so potent that even the skunks yelp!”

 

Well Ben sat and thought for a second,

I’ll just break wind into a jar he reckoned.

Ill twist off the lid and plug up my ***

And fill the jar with my putrid gas.

 

For weeks and weeks he collected his farts,

Til the air inside the jar was thick and dark.

He placed the old jar on top of his shelf,

I’ll get rid of you tomorrow, he said to himself.

 

Well something happened that night, and Ben’s life was taken,

When a violent storm left the whole house shaken.

The jar that Ben placed on his shelf with such care,

Had fallen, releasing his gas into the air.

 

Ben proceeded to suffocate slowly but steadily,

A victim of a crime that was silent but deadly.

Request permission to use this poem
Written by
ryan-unger
Published
Mar 22, 2012
Lines·Words
20·182
Tags
#death#funny#storm#comedy#cheese#potent
Permission

Request to use this poem

Tell ryan-unger how you would like to use it. We review requests before forwarding them.

AboutBlogFAQPrivacyTermsContact
© 2009-2026 Hello Poetry/v27.0 by @eliotyork
Explore
Hello PoetryVoting
Write