Humourous Poems
The Kind of Day When Your Trouser Zip Breaks.
It usually happens on a Monday
When things are already low.
The alarm didn't sound,
Your shoes just can't be found -
And something's afoot below...
It's the sort of day where all goes wrong
With blunder after blunder.
You're running at pace,
Fall flat on your face -
What else could fall down, you wonder...
It's when things can't seem to get worse,
Yet fate merely deepens your plight.
The car won't start,
It falls apart -
And something else doesn't seem quite right...
It's the 'go-back-to-bed' type of day,
Where everything's such a hotchpotch.
You get to where you're going,
With a feeling something's showing -
And then you look down at your crotch...
It rounds off the day, just tops it all off,
The bitter icing on the cake.
You're flying blatantly low,
And it's then that you know -
You're having 'The Kind of Day When Your Trouser Zip Breaks'.
This day happens once in a blue moon,
But it always gets round to you.
And with nowhere to hide,
You just have to abide -
There's just nothing that you can do.
The Gods have conspired against you,
And are no doubt having a laugh.
And it's then you realise,
As you survey your open flies -
That today is the staff photograph...
There is no truth in the suggestion that this is based on a true story. Honest.
(The staff photo was later thankfully cancelled!)
Spied 'er Man...
Crawling slowly 'cross the floor, today I spied a spider.
Romantic hide 'n' seek he played, his girl he tried to find 'er.
I spied he tried to spy his spider, stepped aside so not to hide 'er.
But to my woe, as I did so,
I heard a squishing from below.
And gave a frown as I looked down -
Oh how I wish I'd spied 'er.
Look here! SEX! LIES! REVELATIONS!
This poem is none of your business.
There.
That`s distanced you.
You won`t want to read on now.
Or perhaps you will.
Perhaps you are still reading this
Because you want to know why
This poem is none of your business.
This poem has a personal and private secret of mine below.
There.
That`s stopped you.
You won`t want to read on now.
Oh, it seems you are doing.
Perhaps you`re still here
Because you are interested in the part of
This poem that has a personal and private secret of mine below.
This poem is about to reveal an extract from my teenage diary.
There.
That`s hit you.
You won`t want to read on now.
Only, you are doing aren`t you?
Perhaps you`ve continued this far down my poem
Because you can`t resist the forbidden. Well,
This poem is NOT about to reveal an extract from my teenage diary.
This poem has NO secrets below,you`re welcome to find out my thoughts
There.
That HAS stopped you.
You don`t want to read on now.
On from here has just become pointless.
Perhaps it`s lost its intrigue and curiosity.
Because you won`t find scandal,gossip,or things you weren`t mean
to know.
This poem has just killed your cat.
!The following poem was penned - gulp, dare I say it - DURING an English Lit. lecture (that`s it now, they'll strip me of my degree!). I had done the necessary reading for the first part of the lesson for discussion - on the poet Horace - but had unfortunately not read the second pieces required for study of Longinus. It struck me as highly amusing, that there I was in full voice appearing to be a great intellect from 9:30 until 10:15...then, in complete contrast, was silent and `dead wood` all of a sudden for the rest of the class! From model student...to mannequin student! So, here is the poem!:
A Classic Student.
I`m naked -
I have no covers.
I`m empty -
I have no words inside.
I`m a winter tree -
I have no leaves, no pages.
I`m not booked -
Longinus, I did not buy you!
I`m red-carded -
I know I`m silent, tutor!
I`m solitary -
The rest hold books, and talks.
I`m regretful -
Why did I not read this for today?
I was very voiced -
Ten minutes since, on Horace.
I was active -
I spoke, with books and thoughts.
I was clothed -
My hands with texts, and mind with words.
I was one of them -
I bought and read YOU, Horace!
I achieved the goal -
I know I contributed, tutor!
But now I`m bare -
I have nothing to say!
I liked you, Horace -
The lecture: what a start!
But now, I hate you, Longinus -
A lecture of two halves!
I`m listening, Longinus -
But your time is going slower!
I`m watching the clock -
Seems like ages I am naked.
I`m hoping now -
Don`t ask me any questions, tutor!
I thought Horace was ace -
But Longinus, you are long!
Aunty May.
I was walking down the street one day,
When I came across my Aunty May,
I took one look at her behind,
And I thought she wouldn't mind,
If I turned around and went the other way.
Stormy 'Times'.
Lightning struck off every cloud,
Thunder roared like a lion proud.
Meanwhile, up in the deep black sky
Thick dark clouds began to cry.
Wild wind raged like never before,
From it's reigns it fought and tore.
Down below a young man drowned -
Me, soaking wet on my paper round!
I Want To Write A Poem But...
I want to write a poem but
I can`t think what about.
It took me a long time
To find a rhyme for the next line,
I`ll tell you that for nowt!
I want to write a poem but
I haven`t got the time.
Rhyming is my big problem
I can`t think of words to...go.
I want to write a poem but
It would probably take an age.
My handwriting is so bad,
It looks just like
a spider crawled across the page.
I want to write a poem but
I would probably much rather engage, in a hobby more worth while because I`m running out of p
All poetry on this page is © Jonathan Fitzgerald and is the sole property of its owner.
It may not be used or reproduced without the author's expressed, written and signed permission.
All images are either personally designed or thought to be freeware.
Email: jonathan@poeticjustice.co.uk
