#humour poems on Hello Poetry

Bear in mind – as I conjured an image of a bear in my mind,
both indulging in a few rounds at the bar; raising the bar to
dizzying heights, till one of us might succumb to intoxication.

A rather fishy scenario, devoid of any fishy breakfast beneath
the bear's breath, reminiscent of a grizzly confrontation.

Yet, we diligently tailed our cocktails at the counter –
chasing after them without any count of remorse.
For we both loathed the winter that awaited us beyond those
bar doors, devising a scheme to drink deeply enough to drift
into slumber and embrace the idea of hibernation.

I guess that’s what you get when a man has cocktails with
a bear at the bar - only to discover that by the end, I was left
with a solitary bear, while my wallet lay stripped of its treasures,
solitary bare.

#bear #puns #bare #bar #humour

Gerry Sykes Dec 2024

What we don’t know

We know that
Round the rugged rock the ragged rascal ran
  but what secrets does that sentence slyly hide from our eyes?

Who is the ragged rascal that ran round the rugged rock?
  Ralph or Mary, Alfred or Freda?

Was the rock
  amid the sandy ozone odoured, shelly blue roaring sea shore
  or the languishing lavender scented purple pastures of Provence?

Does the rock think
  why is this ragged rascal interrupting my rest,
  pausing my Requiem in Pace with their irreverent running,
  circumnavigating the penumbra of my circumference?

Is it sand or grass that feels
  the feet of the ragged rascal running fast
  or the rugged rock, whose repose the rascal wrecked?

Why is the ragged rascal running
  perspiring to meet a perfumed maid or prurient boy
  or play some fiendish prank of trick or treat on foe or friend?

Will we ever realize our desire to perceive
  why the ragged rascal ran round the rugged rock?

And if the intensions of the ragged rascal become intelligible:
  did Peter Piper taste the peck of pickled pepper that he picked
needs investigation.

Alliteration and tongue twister. Be wary of reading this poem out loud!

#alliteration #tonguetwister #humour

Gerry Sykes Dec 2024

Ginger Tom

McKenzie sat, the feral cat
a ginger tom, a ***** brat,
he’s on the slab, he's at the vet,
he's innocent of the threat;
as scalpel steel –prepares to lop
his precious assets – for the chop.

He smirks and thinks of bowls of cream.
An instrument now stops his dream
while measuring his body’s heat:
a gross insult to his seat
that turns his grin into a pout
as he pushes the probe out.

This wicked cat – who seems serene,
his outward visage looks so clean
external dirt can never stick,
but succumbing to his lick
it passes through that moggy’s gut
and out of an unblemished ****.

The player fears the game is up
he sees the proffered poisoned cup,
now he's exposed: the ***** rat.
Dies Irae for that cat –
the stoneless subject of our mirth –
as ball-less he departs the Earth.

A metaphor for ****** politicians, hoping they get their reward. The rhythm of this poem is meant to be like two bars of music or two pulses in a line. The beat on the last stresses syllable of the bar. There needs to be a pause in the middle and the end of each line.

#rhyme #politics #cat #humour

Pagan Paul Dec 2024

Tongue In Cheek

I should like to lay my sceptre
down upon your velvet purse,
but I am all to well aware
that may sound a little perverse.

So let me stoke your deepest fires
of you I could be no fonder,
but once in a while, its good to smile
at the occasional double-entendre.

Another silly one!

#doubleentendre #humour

Nick Moore Nov 2024

Once upon a lime

The
lime tree
Stood on top
Of The Hill,
The ground around
With limes
Did it
Fill

One Decending lime
Rolling to the
Incline,
Got itself
Into a
Spin

Tumbling down
With no Jill
After

Hitting the road side
A car did abide,
By changing its
Shape to
Flat,
But!
Deep into
The tyre grip
Went a
Pip

Spinning around
To the engine's
Sound,
It's DNA
Got slightly
Altered

After coming to a
Full stop,
The fastidious Chauffeur
Noticed,
The
Wheel didn't
Need a
Seed,
Flicking it over a
Wall,
Where it landed
Upon fertile
Land

As the seed started to grow
It's branches began
To twist

Ten years went by
As quick as a
Roll
Of you're
Eye

The land
That the tree,
Let It's roots spread free
Also contained a
Shack,
And as the morning
Broke,
The old man
Awoke

Starting his daily routine,
The days
Always seemed
The same,
But
He was clever enough to know,
There was no-one
To
Blame
But
Himself,
Life just seemed to
Snooker him,
Into this
Pocket

His only venture out,
Was the local store,
Supplying all that
Was
Needed

But
Before setting off,
Something was calling to
His
Attention,
The sound of a bird
Never
Heard

Heading down
The overgrown
Path,
The bird suddenly stopped,
And
While flying off,
He saw something,
Never seen
Before

A tree bering limes,
From it's
Corkscrew branches,
But
Not any old limes,
Their skins
Also
Had a
Twist

Picking one up,
Marvelling at the shape,
He headed off to
The store

Arriving at the door,
Felt like
Not
Before,
This day was like
No
Other

Gathering his supplies,
Catching the
Shopkeepers eye,
"A very good day to you"

"I don't mean to sound rude
But you're in a good mood"
She said, while giving
Him a
Smile

"What would you think
If I asked you out
For a drink?"

"I'd grab
Hat and coat,
Lock up this old store
And we'd be on our way"

With his best smile in years
He said
"Well let's go"

Arriving at the bar,
He asked for two
Mojitos

The barman
Shook his head,
"We're all out of limes!"

The old man's eyes
Lit up

Song, Terrorvision, Tequila

#lime #humour #mojitos

Gerry Sykes Nov 2024

Perspective

Soot darkened ***** drizzled damp sandstone
    grey like depression.
Dull ochre leaves squelch wetly under foot
    rotting and foetid.

Scaffolding covers faded elegance
    dims its fame.
Water trickles down umbrellas, hats and
    drenched clothes

Cars spraying water over the pavement
    saturates pedestrians:
soaked blue jeans stick to frozen legs,
    soggy like a graveside.

Greasy spoon tipsy waitress swerves
    spilled tea;
cracked cups, saucers and sweet generic cake
    disappoints.

Stove radiates a red smoky welcome
    like a warmed bed.
Crafted draught pints served foamy and savoured
    sparkling and bitter.

Locals drink, eat, play board games and throw darts,
    laugh at the rain.
I read poetry books to my girlfriend
    by the snug fire.

Buxton will bloom, golden again
      when summer comes,
its octagonal pavilion teem
    with street bustling life.

#hope #humour