Funny Poetry Quotes

“I am like a dead begonia hanging upside down because like a dead begonia I don't give a f**k.”
― David Leviathan

“Oh, the grand old Duke of York
He had Ten Thousand Men
He Marched them Up To The Top of The Hill
And Crushed all the nations of the world and brought them under the rule of Satan our master.”
― Neil Gaiman, Terry Pratchett

“The Anatomy of Trades by Stewart Stafford

Detective Toes, Senator Nose,
Eye-eye Captain,
And Rhinologist Blows.

Banker Bum, Painter Thumb,
Judge Mental,
And Dentist Gum.

Dancer Hip, President Lip,
Dermatologist Peel,
Goalie Fingertip.

Beautician Eyelash, Barber Moustache
Boxer Fist,
And Doctor Rash.

© Stewart Stafford, 2021. All rights reserved.”
― Stewart Stafford

“I Once Was A Bee by Stewart Stafford

I once was a bee,
All striped and dorky,
I got crushed underfoot,
By Amber Heard's Yorkie.

It mashed my wings,
I never sought money,
Even when it made me,
Poop out some honey.

As I flew to Bee Heaven,
In a mystical fog,
She made such a fuss,
Of that murdering dog.

© Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.”
― Stewart Stafford

“Tuesday Man by Stewart Stafford

He was only a superhero on Tuesdays,
And the rest of the time was his own,
Tuesday was the villains' day of rest,
Then crime sprees just like Al Capone.

He tried to make his Tuesdays longer,
By pulling some gruelling all-nighters,
But he knew that to be more effective,
He'd have to be a 7-day crime-fighter.

So, he rearranged his calendar totally,
To take the fight to all the baddies,
He was on-call from then on, 24/7,
Or relaxed playing golf with his caddy.

© Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.”
― Stewart Stafford

“Frack To Bont by Stewart Stafford

Rip The Jacker,
Killy The Bid,
Ken F. Johnnedy,
But not Saesar, Cid.

Meddie Frercury,
Kanley Stubrick,
Lohn Jennon,
But no Magger of Jick.

Cilly Bonnolly.
Cave Dhappelle,
Pichard Rryor,
No Relch of Waquel.

© Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved”
― Stewart Stafford

“Bloodline by Stewart Stafford

Stuart Richards, 5,001st in line to the British throne,
A distant cousin of the king but hitherto unknown,
He dreamt of the crown and his fair queen's hand,
But there was no baiting the hook unless he had a plan.

He chose to eliminate the competition, stood before him,
Through a dark celebration, they'd never know what hit them,
He sent out invitations to the 5, 000 heirs,
Promising vast feasting, with music and fanfare

He built a fake house front with a door and a sign,
That said: "Welcome to the party. Now, kindly form a line."
Behind the door, there awaited a cliff face and a fall,
A master of deception, his warm smile greeted them all.

He stood at the front door with a charming bow,
And, welcoming each guest, he said: "In you go now!"
He watched them disappear as they stepped through the door,
Counting steps to ascension, lemmings queued up for more.

Backslapping himself, inner cackling at his scheme,
Imagining himself as king - glory rained down, it seemed,
But his Machiavellian plotting had a monstrous flaw,
One thing he'd forgotten that greedy eyes never saw.

The king was still alive, and he was not amused,
He got wind of this plot and responded unconfused,
He sent his guards to arrest him for sedition in a fury,
They swept him off his feet, planting him before a jury.

Put on trial for treason - the verdict was most guilty,
Execution set, he had the neck to beg for mercy,
But the king was not budging and barked: "Off with his head!"
An Axeman's reverse coronation, he joined the fallen dead.

Halting 2,986th in line to the British throne,
A distant cousin of the king, headless spirit flown,
In jealous craving, dispossessed as ruler of the land,
Crowned pride came before a fallen plan.

© Stewart Stafford, 2023. All rights reserved.”
― Stewart Stafford

“An Appreciation of the Udder by Stewart Stafford

Abe Lincoln borrowed Mabel Brown's bra,
The bustiest gal in the county by far,
Stretched it right back as far it would go,
Launched himself up, a skyrocketing crow.

He soared up so high, he couldn't believe it,
Saw an aerial shot of Mabel's mighty cleavage,
Birds wondered about the youthful intruder,
Touched the dark rim of space, no blue there.

Gravity tapped Honest Abe on the shoulder,
He fell back to earth like a tumbling boulder,
Broke his rapid fall by grabbing onto a tree,
Exhilarated at the thought of skyward liberty.

© Stewart Stafford, 2024. All rights reserved.”
― Stewart Stafford

“The Zombie Firetruck by Stewart Stafford

Sirens moan, grave duty's flash of red,
A mortuary whiff of something dead,
Hoses trained with brains they suck,
Your friendly neighbourhood zombie firetruck!

All that remained of the human fire team,
From the zombie pandemic of 2017,
Still in their uniforms, their only treasures,
Apocalyptic times call for end-time measures.

When they reached the fire, people did scoff,
They lurched, staggered, body parts fell off,
As they wandered around, fire hoses forlorn,
These knightly living dead faced a blazing dawn.

The chief, hat off to his skeleton crew,
In a voice once alive, now croaky like flu:
'To the hydrant, my ghouls, let's save Gothik Town,
Or they'll call Ghostbusters, we'll be the clowns!'

A glowering inferno, a cremation scene,
Zombie firefighters, brave and light green.
Through smoke and ash, they gravely stand,
Composed decomposition with skeletal hand.

Axeman Bony Ed led their clattering charge,
Into the smoke, his cadavers did barge,
The townsfolk looked on in dead of night,
And disbelief, tiredness and mild fright.

There soon followed medic Cemetery Phil,
Decaying Murphy, Old Salty, and Dead Drill,
Slab Stevens, Madly Hyde and Molly Voodoo,
Determined to shake their initial hoodoo.

A mother and baby backed by burning drapes,
Team Macabre charged up the fire escape,
Saving both and getting everyone out,
Drank Brainer Ade as they leaked like a spout.

Somehow, undead teamwork saved the day,
No lives were lost as the water sprayed,
Doused the flames, cool flatlined heroes,
Much zombie kudos, no longer scary zeroes.

The crowd cheered, did they ever doubt it?
High fives lost hands but new ones sprouted,
Frankenstein proud in their flapping flesh,
Sure to get medals at the HalloweenFest.

With a final groan and a clatter of bones,
The zombie firetruck headed back home.
Rotten yet proud, in their reanimated way,
The risen would fight fires another day.

© 2024, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.”
― Stewart Stafford