Amusing poems

Hiya, (getting totally away from Tolkien,) Ive found a poem I thought funny, Id like to hear any of yours,if you have them?
Bluebeard was a captain,a pirate of the seas
Were er he went,his knees were bent
His cutlass round his knees.
The sailors used to laugh at him & call him "Bow bells!"
But deep within those trousers came the mother of all smells!
From underneath,
There came the grief
Of a rather nasty NIFF!.
His hat was always crooked
His eye patch skew whiff.
His cold hard heart was dark,& black as any night,
His skin was grey & clammy,& scarred from many a fight.
But,God forbid,I have to tell,
Was where in heaven came this awful smell !
From many nights, & months at sea,
The sails flapping loose & free,
The captain,in his bunk at night,
Hid from his crew a despicable sight.
A boil on the bum,size of Katmandu
All deep & bushy,like darkest Peru,
Never seen light,(or even the loo)
Never felt water,or bar of soap,
(without penicillin there wasnt much hope!)
But as the moon shone up in the sky,
Eerie howls & a desperate cry,
Sliced the night & froze the skin,
As he tried to shift the devil within.
And as they rounded somewhere near France,
He let out a scream & the boil was lanced.
And now "Old Bluebeard" can "buckle" his "swash",
As the boil slid overboard with a "splosh!"
And stealing & plundering can now be done,
As the boil sailed away with the setting sun.

azriel wrote:(getting totally away from Tolkien,)

don't worry..

One day Gandalf came to see me,
13 dwarfs all came to tea,
In my hole I couldnt foresee,
What the hell this meant to me.
Habit,Crabbit,Grabbit & Thorin,
Trouncy,Bouncy,snoring & Boring,
Snotty,Grotty,spotty & Maureen (?),
Humble,Grumble,mumble & Flooring.
Across the fields & woods we ran,
Hung in trees like cured ham,
Caught in webs all sticky with goo,
Chased by wolves,up trees we flew,
Trolls there were,all grim & gruff,
We're dragged by goblins,all fierce & tough,
Hidden in cells by Elves all drunk,
Rolled in barrels that nearly sunk,
Stuck in a battle I couldnt hide,
Burnt by a dragon on my backside,
All the way home I learnt ONE thing,
Dont open the door for a F**king ring !

I'm led to suspect this second effort is yours, azriel.

This one isn't mine, but it's one of my favorites:

"A planet doesn't explode of itself" said dryly
the Martian astronomer, gazing off in the air.
"That they were able to do it is proof that highly
intelligent life must have been living there."

The 1st one was by my daughter,she had to do a poem in front of the school for assembly. I dont know how well,(?) it went down,she never said, but I liked it. (she was only 13yrs old after all) the 2nd one Im afraid was mine, I liked yours, very deep.

Im in a little world of my own here, & I dont care ..............
On top of Katmando,where the sun always shone,
Ghandi went up for prayers,feeling something had gone wrong.
With all his meditation,& divine inspiration,he lapsed in concentration,
And shat down his sarong!
"Oh goodness gracious me!" he cried
(as the "mush" began to slide)
Across the rocks,& down his socks,there was nowhere he could hide.
He burnt a 1000 joss sticks,to eleviate the smell,
But for all the prayers to Budha,it followed him to hell !

Half-wracked prejudice leaped forth
“Rip down all hate,” I screamed
Lies that life is black and white
Spoke from my skull. I dreamed
Romantic facts of musketeers
Foundationed deep, somehow
Ah, but I was so much older then
I’m younger than that now

Always made me giggle- speaking skulls in the black dress of time! Lol!

Ally, now THAT I like !

Death, the Lover

my hands were aching
from writing silly love letters
that would never be sent
nor opened by you.

break the curse
free my thoughts
leave me alone
bleed to death

tie a noose around my neck,
hang me from the highest tower,
let the world watch me fall
a sad, beautiful death

One day there will be no infinity. Only loss and heartbreak and longing for death and losing your mind.

she is warm
Pressed behind me
and i'm just glad
she can't see my tears
Falling down my face
because I know
she won't ever cry over me

death is simple.
you take the pills,
the bullet, the hang
and you're gone

blood stained love letters atop piles of her favourite records and vintage lace dresses sit quietly by their owner

-Annette O Fish

Well, well, well... Excellent work all!

{{{13 years old, Azriel? Then that one was all the more impressive then! }}}

And Annette. Can't say I laughed. Just got moved. Did I read it cross-eyed or something?  Mind you, only in Forumshire would you find a Deep Poem on an Amusing Poems thread.... Hurrah!

Hey Annette (and company ), it's good to see you around again! I missed seeing your posts.

hey I somehow missed this thread. must say all the poems are wonderful.  

I agree, Annette, that Death is simple, but Dying usually takes up a lot of thought and is not always amusing...  

*buys pet rock*
*names pet rock romance*
*doesn't feed rock for days*
*kate comes over asking to see rock*
"sorry, but Romance is dead."

#leaderofthepack #theface

Dead from the start, I'm afraid.  

YOU WILL GET IT BEFORE YOUR FIRST ANNIVERSARY, which is the important thing.

I found something which I thought was rather hilarious the other day - a poem I wrote when I was in the fourth of fifth grade. This is how it goes in Fjordian:

Før
Før var det annleis
enn no.
Dei måtte gå til kvarandre
før
Men no ringjer dei
i telefonen
- Gut 11 år

And this is how it might look like in English:

Before
Before it was different
from now
They had to walk to each other
Before
But now they call
on the telephone
- Boy, 11 years old

I can't remember what the assignment was, and I can only vaguely remember writing it, but it brought a smile to my face

that's a poignant take on the harsh reality of technology

Very on the mark Ringdrotten, well done to you aged 11.  

aw, that was so cute

 (and a good translation)

That's a rather profound take on the technology's disruptive effects on interpersonal relationships (for an eleven year old).

It's finding old stuff like this that makes one appreciate mothers who keep every single piece of paper their sons ever produced

why do you guys keep saying "for an eleven year old" ? it's a really nice poem.

Because once we become adults, men are only supposed to write poetry about the hopelessness of the human condition, the transient nature of love, the inevitability of death, trucks, horses, boats, and dogs. It is still an excellent poem for an 11 year old, but it missed all of the manly points. That's all I'm saying.

erm.. it could still be about all that.