Most Liked Humor Poems (1,865)

Well I'm in love with little April
but May just down the road
yeah I'm in love with little April
but May just down the road
pretty soon I'll be in to June
and the others don't need to know

It’s a black black night
Reflectors everywhere
To keep my path right
No moon and only two stars
Holding tight
It’s a black black night

It’s a black black night
Cane fires burning
Ironically is an amazing sight
Headlights beaming
Bitumen steaming
It’s a black black night

It’s a black black night
Radio’s dead
There’s music in my head
I can hear the words said
It’s hours to my bed
It’s a black black night

It’s a black black night
Peering eyes from roadside
White lines can not hide
Every noise multiplied
Eyes open wide
It’s a black black night

It’s a black black night
Driving miss daisy
Feeling kinda hazy
Don’t want to be lazy
I think I’m going crazy
It’s a black black night ........

Shakey needed out, out from the soft motor cul-de-sacs of the consoled.
18 and agile, he yearned to play the margin, walk the thin line.
Adopting the heady North Korean hairstyle of the self-assured he exited the leafy vanilla streets and joined the gaunt bus terminals of the fugitive.
Penning his travels, he became a one man poet of the moment delivering sonorous polyrhythmic exercises in moral decline from a leather attache case in the jazz basements of the avant-garde.
Too caustic to be urban chic, this enfant terrible of the leisure set came to the notice of Fancy Nancy, one-time darling of Eurocommunist sambuca parties, a veteran go-go girl of the atomic age.
Donning a neptune blue necktie a la Pierre Cardin, a licence for larceny in the swing set of the political elite, he toured with Fancy Nancy in a lizard suited carnival of the extreme. Public moral outrage circuited the exercise extraordinaire and the duo were consigned to a life of tortuous childcare, parent teacher encounters, and a passion for home entertainment system upgrades.

Ok i want to write a poem. And what's currently running thru my mind kinda goes like this;

Every night, late at night. When all the little CS'rs are asleep (hey isn't CS some kinda teargas or something?? Ok well anyway) I put some lipstick on the fingers on my right hand.
And i say onto it, and i quote,
"Say hello to my Little Friend..."
Whereupon i show IT (My right hand-fingers) something.
No. No...(where's the waving finger emoji?)
...I cant tell you what it is, this something.
You want me to get BANNED AGAIN??
Why i outta....

But anyway When you take this Little Finger
and put Lipstick on it and all it's other neighbor Finger Friends
They begin to sing!
No seriously!
And they kinda go like this.

DROP YOUR PANTS! A DUCK POPS OUT!

Im sorry im sorry! I couldnt do that right! I wanted to put up a song, but there's no way to do that here!
Now. If you think this song poem is great, give me a thumbs up.
But if you think this poem is bad, no ducks for you tonight!

rain sings on the iron
the cars they wash on by
my fireside cat he's dryin'
his sleepy night is nigh

I wish I knew his dreaming
but I have no chance to pry
I'm sure its fully teeming
with mice that weren't so sly

and somewhere on a rooftop
beneath the bluest sky
this princely feline's eyeing
the birds that go on by

The weather is too hot to go outside
I've watched so much tv my brain is nearly fried
If I could find a cave I would have a cool place to hide
I would like to go somewhere but I hear they started having earthquakes in Alaska

Well it's either climate change or a pole shift
Or maybe the aliens have taken control
With all that's going on I would say psychics don't have a gift
What do they know I just want to go but I hear they're having earthquakes in Alaska

The ac went out on my car so I'm stuck where I'm at and it's not much of a flat
So I'm looking wall to wall and I'll be here for a long while
My eyes are getting very big I hope no one mistakes me for a crocodile
Just forget about a long distance call don't want to hear about earthquakes in Alaska

What’s the holdup? What’s taking so long?
I don’t have all day you know.
Let’s get this done whilst I’m still young,
‘Cause I‘ve got places to go.

Holdup! Wait a minute! What d’you think you’re doing?
That ain’t what I came here for.
What you’re suggesting is wishful thinking,
So I’ll see myself out the door.

This a holdup! Give me all you got.
Don’t bother to scream or run.
I’ve seen what you got, and you’ve got a lot.
I’m just helping myself to some.

Well now…

If the plural of mouse is mice,

And the plural of louse is lice,

Then how could it not possibly be

That the plural of spouse is spice?

Why is it then the rule doesn’t

Also apply to house or to douse?

Nor even grouse, rouse or souse?

Nor even, for that matter, youse?

The snow in the middle of spring
How abnormal is it.
As if the day light cut
Into my night dream,
As if the cities are drowned
In a snowy road.
As if the happiness
Is stalled
And the earth is stopped.
What was it all?
Maybe the Moon
Felt madly in love
With the North Pole?