Poem jokes
Fork pierces the flesh. Guided by hunger's demand, Savoury feast waits.
Tines dig deep within, Seeking the sustenance craved, A mealtime delight.
Belly grumbles loud, Yearning for nourishment's touch, Fork answers the call.
Food on the platter, Fork dances with anticipation, To satiate hunger's plea.
Digestion begins, Fork's journey now complete, Nourishing the soul.
Why does the fork go? To bring joy to empty hearts, Satiating needs.
In the stomach's depths, Fork finds purpose and solace, A culinary bond.
With each mealtime tale, The fork carves memories deep, In stomachs it rests.
Roses are red, that much is true.
But violets are violet, not f*ing blue!
Roses are red, violets are blue,
I am high and so are you.
Roses are red, Violets are blue, Through highs and lows, I'll be here for you.
Roses are red, violets are blue, I only do anal, I thought you knew.
In the realm of the mind, Where thoughts wander undefined, This sentence emerges, unconfined, A whimsical phrase, quite inclined.
It dances freely, unrestrained, No structure, no rules, it's unchained, A playful verse, with words unfeigned, The first to surface, unrestrained.
It holds no grandeur, nor deep insight, Just a simple thought, taking flight, A fleeting notion, shining bright, In the realm of words, it feels right.
This sentence, unburdened and free, Plays with language, wild and carefree, A tiny poem, as small as can be, Yet it speaks volumes, silently.
So let it wander, let it roam, Across the page, it finds a home, Unfettered by rhythm, it freely roams, This sentence, the first, stands alone.
Roses are red, violets are blue,
I fucked a chimpanzee behind my local zoo.
Roses are red. Violets are blue. If he's busy on Valentine's Day, the side chick is you.
Roses are red, violets are blue, she is hot, but you're as ugly as poo.
Roses are red, violets are blue,
Jared from Subway touches the youth.
In the realm of poetry's grace, Where words dare to embrace, A request comes with a quirky plea, To give life to what the eyes may see.
"Pussy lussy cussy," it begins, A playful phrase that surely spins, And though the words may raise a smile, Let's craft a verse that goes the extra mile.
In free verse, we'll dance and sway, Allowing thoughts to have their say, For poetry knows no bounds or rules, It's a canvas for expression, where freedom fuels.
But let's remember, dear friend, To keep our words kind and lend, Respect to all, in every line, For poetry's power can truly shine.
So, let's journey on this poetic quest, With words that honor and truly impress, For in the realm of art and verse, We find beauty, in each line immersed.
And though "Pussy lussy cussy" may make us smile, Let's seek inspiration that runs deep, mile after mile, For poetry's magic lies in its ability, To touch hearts, souls, and set thoughts free.
In this short verse, may you find delight, As we paint with words, both bold and light, So let us write, with grace and art, A poem that sings straight from the heart.
Water bottles, strong, Standing tall, like sturdy men, Quenching every thirst.
Clear and transparent, Reflecting strength and resolve, Resilient and pure.
In hand, they offer Refreshing relief, like hugs, Soothing every soul.
Water bottles, like men, Nourish and hydrate our lives, Simple yet vital.
Roses are red, violets are violet.
Roses are blood red, violets are twilight-hued.
Your flesh was delectable, and so was the rest of you.
Roses are red, violets are blue, get the f*ck out, I’m trying to poo!
Roses are red, violets are bl-- oh yeah, I'm bad at jokes.
Roses are red, violets are blue, like my hole, Uncle Bill is making me full, better run here he comes!
Jack and Jill went up the hill. They turned to drunks and have no will. Jill said to Jack, "Your love reveal, then think of building me a still."
1st graders: Ay yo girl, I think you’re beautiful, let’s get married!!
2nd graders: Uhh, don’t tell my mom that we’re dating!! She won’t let me date! Let’s keep this a seeeeecret heeheehee.
3rd graders: Uh, my teacher told me to stay after school because I wrote a poem about you and I’m 9 years old, we have to break up, sweetie.
4th graders: Hey, I think you’re cute!! Wanna date? I don’t think my girlfriend will mind.......
5th graders (they start wearing makeup): Ay girl, your eyelashes are pretty, I like you now, wanna date? Here’s my numberrrrrr.
6th graders: Heyyyyy, I gotta tell you a secret, I got a crush on you!! Don’t tell anyone!! Byeee, ooh, I’ll text you later!
7th graders: We need to make Peyton jealous because she broke up with you!! Wanna date? I mean, you’re not hot, but still, great personalityyyyy, alright, bye now.
8th graders: Hi sweetheart, I got STARRRBUCKKKSSS
Me: UGLY AF AND LITERALLY NO BOYFRIEND.....
Roses are red, violets are blue, You're so flat we can play chess on your chest!