Tag Archives: funny poems

Scoot Scoot

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Scoot Scoot

 

Scoot Scoot

Said the scooter

Shining in the sun

Time for me

To have some fun

 

Zoom Zoom

Said the scooter

Rider and helmet ready

Today we go fast

But take it steady

 

Whoosh Whoosh

Said the scooter

Down the street

Feet on kickboard

Who can we beat?

 

Zip Zip

Said the scooter

What a fun day

Zooming along

Smiling all the way

 

Jump Jump

Said the scooter

Trying a trick

Up in the air

And down real quick

 

Ring Ring

Said the scooter

A loud ring of the bell

Turn and head back

All is well

 

Yawn Yawn

Said the scooter

I’ve had a big day

Time to go home

Slowly make my way

 

Shuffle Shuffle

Said the scooter

Trudging back to the shed

Time for scooters

To be in scooter bed

 

Snooze Snooze

Said the scooter

Snoring away

Dreaming of tomorrow

Another scooter day

 

by Jeanie Axton (my first poem ever in a published book)

 

The inspiration for Scoot Scoot was in restoring this old scooter I found in a second hand shop

This poem was included in “The Toy Chest” a novel Anthology from Prints Charming Books

Edited by Sally Odgers Published July 2017

 

 

 

Poem of the Day

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Montague Shoe

 

Have you heard the story of Montague Shoe?

He fitted a left foot — ’twas all he could do.

 

But the shoe that fitted the right foot was lost,

So into the trashcan poor Monty was tossed.

 

But there in the trash Montague found

A shoe for a right foot — ’twas perfectly sound.

 

They became a new pair, one black and one blue,

And that was the story of Montague Shoe.

 

James Aitchison

Poem of the Day

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Clown Stuff

 

“Put that cauliflower in the colander,

not on your head, you fool!

It’s no time now for climbing the ladder

to the loft. Come on down

or you’ll be late for Clown-School.”

© Katherine Gallagher

Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #36

Poetry Prompt #36

Poem of the Day

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Pickled peppers

 

Polly Packer picked a pile of pickled peppers

outweighing the paltry peck that Peter chose.

Poor Peter Piper’s paused his pepper picking

and all he picks at present is his nose.

Jenny Erlanger
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #32

poetry prompt #32

Jenny said: The prompt word, “pickle” reminded me of the famous old tongue-twister involving Peter Piper and his pickled peppers.   The challenge was to find enough new words starting with “p” to retain a tongue-twister character.

 

Poem of the Day

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Not Hot Cross Buns Again!

by Carolyn Eldridge-Alfonzetti

 

At Easter Mum bakes special buns —

they’re warm and soft and sweet.

But with those piped white crosses

come some things this kid won’t eat.

 

The shiny glaze Mum brushes on,

I think is kind of icky.

It makes the buns look like they’re wet

and leaves my fingers sticky.

 

The shriveled-up sultanas

look like flies cooked in the dough.

I pick them out for our dog, Rex

(Shhhh.  Mummy doesn’t know!)

 

Those buns would be much nicer, too,

without mixed peel and spice.

If you ask me, next Easter,

hot cross doughnuts would be nice!

 

  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #12

Poetry Prompt 11

 

 


Poem of the Day

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Family tree

by Bill Condon

 

The mother was a ghost gum,

a really terrific tree-mum.

The father was a noble oak,

a shining prince of tree-dom.

You’d think with a family tree like that,

the offshoot would have to be a winner.

Instead he was a toothpick,

who lived in fear of dinner.

  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #2

Prompt2

 

Bill says: I wrote this years ago when I was very silly. Nothing’s changed.

 

Poem of the Day

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Pirate plight

by Jenny Erlanger

 

Though pirates get by

with a patch on one eye

their lives out at sea can be grim.

No wonder they’re mean,

all the pirates I’ve seen

have clearly been missing a limb.

I now understand

all those hooks for a hand,

the clumping around on a peg.

To fit out their ships

for those plundering trips

must cost them an arm and a leg!

 

 

 

 

Poem of the Day

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 A BOOGER IN MY HANKY

by Allan Cropper

 

There’s a booger in my hanky, it’s been there for half an hour

It is fresh and it is green, but it tastes a little sour

I will hide it in my sock drawer if I ever take a shower

I wonder if my mother’s gonna mind

 

There’s a booger in my hanky and it’s been there all the day

It is icky and it’s sticky and it’s looking pretty grey

I think I’ll try to train it, and teach it how to stay

I wonder if my mother’s gonna mind

 

There’s a booger in my hanky and it’s been in there all week

It is probably worth a lot ’cause it’s almost an antique

If you really want to see it I can give you a quick peak

I wonder if my mother’s gonna mind

 

There’s a booger in my hanky, now it’s been in there a year

It’s as solid as a rock and it’s looking pretty clear

That the booger is a goner, but don’t you shed a tear

There’s plenty of other boogers I can find

I wonder if my mother’s gonna mind

 

 

 

Poem of the Day

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Feeling Weird

by Allan Cropper

Have you woken up to find
you don’t know how you feel?
That’s how I felt when I woke up today.
I tried to find a word that would
express the way I felt
but there were not the words that would convey
the feelings I was feeling, for
it all felt so surreal,
a feeling like no other I have known.
I cannot find the words to tell you
how it is I felt.
I’ll have to make up new words of my own.

I felt flagisticatious,
all wimbillical inside.
Indubicartly grobble-poxed, was I.
Befuddulant and jingle-jacked,
quite micro-ballical,
which can’t have been too pleasing to the eye.
I felt so astro-numical,
anthortical in fact,
in a very catostrismic kind of way.
And that, my friend, just sums it up –
exactly how I felt –
the way I felt when I awoke today.