Before we get into today’s fun poem prompt, I just want to remind everyone of the upcoming 11th annual April PAD Challenge, which starts on Sunday (coincidentally Easter Sunday and April Fool’s Day). If you’ve participated in the past, you know what to do. If not, here are the guidelines (but it’s pretty much like Wednesday Poetry Prompts–only every single day of the month).
For today’s prompt, write a fun poem. See? I said it would be a fun poem prompt today. At times, it’s easy to write about sad topics, serious topics, lovey-dovey topics, etc. But for today’s prompt, I’d like to see poems that are about having fun, involve something fun, or are just plain fun. I guess that can change from person to person, but whatever your definition of fun is be sure to write that poem today.
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In addition to the listings, there are articles on the craft, business, and promotion of poetry–so that poets can learn the ins and outs of writing poetry and seeking publication. Plus, it includes a one-year subscription to the poetry-related information on WritersMarket.com. All in all, it’s the best resource for poets looking to secure publication.
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Here’s my attempt at a Fun Poem:
“the stinky palindrome”
mom added xylo- to -phone
& brother added an -s
dad was stuck with only vowels
little sister tried her best
until she spelled the word poop
causing us all to babble
about appropriate words
to use while playing scrabble
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Robert Lee Brewer is Senior Content Editor of the Writer’s Digest Writing Community and author of Solving the World’s Problems (Press 53). He loves to play Scrabble with his family.
Follow him on Twitter @RobertLeeBrewer.
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Find more poetic posts here:
- Wednesday Poetry Prompts: 425.
- One Year, One Hundred Rejections: Brett Elizabeth Jenkins.
- 30 Poetry Prompts for the 2017 November PAD Chapbook Challenge.
AMC Pacer
(pacemaker, moonbuggy, greenhouse, glassmobile)
by Juanita Lewison-Snyder
Maroon 70’s funk poster child of good intentions gone awry,
leaked like a sieve, but you could still see out pretty good
surrounded by hot terrarium glass in true Jetson-style novelty.
Heavy saggy doors with cheap pot metal handles that repeatedly
broke off in your hands, the “little fishbowl on wheels”
that would later help to inspire the popular bubble Porsche 928.
Despite lousy gas mileage and a cheap interior that cracked and split,
for two high school girls it was wheels, and wheels meant freedom,
and the perpetual lure of the open road.
We logged in appearances at many a righteous party
during those formative years, my girlfriends and I
(Barbie-speak for hundreds of thousands of miles, FYI).
Sometimes we’d pretend it was Mike Myers’ sweet ride in the
pop-cult classic, “Wayne’s World,” making “folkloricly cool” history
(Hollywood speak for “Laugh. Cry. Hurl.”)
Who’d have predicted America’s belovedly pregnant roller-skate
would become the great antithesis to collectible car show lexicons
Mustang, Camaro, and Vette, in spite of its top 10 all-time worst list.
Yeah, party on, Wayne.
Party on, Garth.
© 2018 by Juanita Lewison-Snyder
HAIKU 331
geō
===¥===
flowering dogwood
under the pine’s canopy
needles and birdsong
‘Til Daddy Takes the T-bird Away
I’ve got the car; you’ve got the excuse.
The fun’s not far from here; we’re loose.
The music’s loud; we sing along.
There’s not a cloud on our horizon.
The boys all flirt; the laughter flows.
We dance alert to how time goes.
We can’t stay long if our story holds.
Life is a song ‘til our lie unfolds.
We’re punished, sure; party time is done.
But there ain’t no cure for our having fun.
I’m humming along here. Sammy Kaye never swung and swayed better.
Hmmmmm…. maybe that should be swang and swayed…
Thanks, Bill. I like swang
Joie de Vivre
If it makes a sound,
play it
If the word’s profound,
say it
If the music swells,
sing it
If it shows and tells,
bring it
If it moves your feet,
dance it
If it’s good to eat,
chance it
If it makes you laugh,
love it
If you scorn it as chaff,
shove it.
Words of wisdom, these., and with a beat, too.
Gonzo
I watch my dog Gonzo
roll in mud and grass,
wolf down pine straw, wood and more,
chase squirrels up trees,
steal my towel from the rack
and roll some more, in between
bites of stolen sock of course,
and I realize just how little
or how much it might take
to live a life that full,
if I could only grow fur
and leap into four legs and a tail.
$10,000 question
What is it that I do for fun?
The ten thousand dollar question.
I feel I’ve only just begun…
What is it that I do for fun?
I play with dogs, I read, I pun –
but is that fun or decompression?
What is it that I do for fun?
The ten thousand dollar question.
Effervescence
Mimosa sun burst upon the horizon,
bubbled over the sugar-coated rim,
diamond sparkled the crystal sky
as effervescence tickled my fancy.
That twinkle in your eyes
illuminated your intentions
clearly, the fun had just begun!
Lorraine Caramanna
For me, the imagery makes this one work so well.
AnElephantCant compete with these cool poets
He has neither the talent nor the time
The sad truth is this
He’s not taking the mickey
You see he can’t even make his verse rhyme
Mostly I’d Rather Be Me
I’d rather be clever than pointlessly dumb,
I’d rather go forward than back where I’m from,
I’d rather have too much than not even some,
But mostly I’d rather be me.
Better a dummy than wise like the crowd,
Feet on firm ground beats a head in a cloud,
Humility’s nicer than being too proud,
But mostly it’s best being me.
Love’s always better than a canker of hate,
Off to the side routs the stiffness of straight,
And right now will always beat having to wait,
But mostly it’s best being me.
I can’t always choose how I will be,
Conditions imposed from without bugger me,
Bouncing my bottom like waves on the sea,
And keep me from just being me.
I’d rather keep going than go back again,
I prefer being healthy than sick and in pain,
And I’d rather be charming than to complain,
But mostly I’d rather be me.
wlw
In my opinion, this is phenomenal!! Fabulous rhythm, terrific content, and great refrain with L4 in each stanza. What a wonderful set of guidelines to savor and re-read!!
Your poem is wonderful! Great message written with a rhythm and rhyme that sets the humor in motion.
I adore this, both meaning and rhyme/cadence!
Excellent
At least.
Thank you everyone for the comments! They are very much appreciated. 🙂
Put this to music! I can hear it. Love this poem.
FIRSTS
The sky is dripping grey
And the sun’s hidden away
But then baby girl smiles
Her first one ever
What is it about a baby’s
smile that makes everyone
else’s face crack open too?
And we’re all just itching
for that first giggle…
Fun Tanka
Cyndi Lauper’s right
girls do just wanna have fun
whatever their age…
my hundred-year-old grandma
sticks notes in the stripper’s crotch
Broke me up!
Oh – howling here!
Au contraire
When spring has sprung
I take to my winter sports
Tubing and Tobogganing
Sound fun only as words
Spiraling down the ice
Frigidly set below zero
While I won’t chicken out
I surely ain’t no hero
Happy is what happy does
A sparkle from my chuckle
I carry with me all day
A little bit of silly, willy-nilly
Though from pranks, I keep away
Unbridled laughter, from the belly
This feeling never goes away
A smile playing on my lips
Is how I like to end my day
Grocery Store Haunting
My daddy liked his Klondike bars.
My mama liked her pies.
And I like almost every sweet,
but ends upon my thighs.
So, when I shop I try my best
To buy those healthy foods.
Fruits, vegetables, whole grains, and milk,
My list always includes.
But odd things happen on some days.
It’s true, I cross my heart.
Some Klondike bars mischievously
Will sneak into my cart.
On, other days I’m being good
But pies will jump in, too.
And all of this may sound farfetched,
But I tell you it’s true.
When I go home with all my treats
And hubby asks me why.
Then I explain that Mom, though dead,
She does still like her pie.
And Daddy loves his ice cream bars,
The Klondike ones the most.
But hubby never quite believes
I shop with both their ghosts.
Sad, but true. I do this, too. You’ve written a poem where humor shines through.
I’m going to call it ghost shopping from now on. <3
For me, this is heart-stopping excellent.
I love the playfulness and wisdom of this. I still talk to my ghosts every day—and they talk back, sometimes with pie.
I love both this poem and your comment, Jane – do you remember Nancy’s poem at Tasteful Beans (is that the name of Scott’s place, I hope?). I just recall her drawl on that poem about an anniversary that had no definitive gift for that year so she decided it would be paaawwweye – I do not do her southern drawl justice but I do recollect it well.
Thanks, all, for the comments. I might stick these on my fridge. 🙂
se*ting in aesops fables
i did
as he
painting you
all hare
& tear
& he
shy, shelled
haha
we win together
plus your dick pic
i tongued
your haha
all the way home
like gristle on a highway’s
grin
thunderheads
rumble-tumbling
like muscle gods
on barrow
sexting in aesops fables
i did
as he
painting you
all hare
& tear
& he
shy, shelled
haha
we win together
plus your dick pic
i tongued
your haha
all the way home
like gristle on a highway’s
grin
thunderheads
rumble-tumbling
like muscle gods
on barrow
Owed to Joy
Euphoria abounds,
can exuberance be far behind?
Hearts swell with pleasure,
a prize of destiny’s whim.
A gift unexpectedly given,
forming bubbles that rise
like pockets of gas to explode
into the atmosphere happily.
You attribute pleasure to your
being open to accept it.
The strange dance you perform
is a by-product of your gaseous state.
What isn’t owed to joy, gets hung on fate.
Ogle Goggles
This gal was a sight for sore eyes,
and thought by most men quite the prize!
Indeed, such a looker,
she dressed like a hooker,
and from her suitors, she got such a rise!
Classic, this.
Outta Whack
“He’s not quite right” she said,
never knowing if her suspicions
were correct, but what did she
expect from a guy who gave her
the evil eye. Oh sure, he called it flirting
but he was skirting the issue.
And she wasn’t really sure what to make
of his attitude, since her gratitude
was out of character for
a character such as she.
She took what she wanted
and never took any crap.
So this sorry sap had her pegged.
He said, “She’s not quite right”.
A match made in heaven, the future was bright
for Mr. and Mrs. Not Quite Right!
I like these two. Maybe I’m not quite right
Egg Hunt 3-28-18
Soon comes the spring morn
Everyone off to church
No child’s head hangs forlorn
For dreams of brightly colored eggs
The church bells churns out
Rise, my children, and go out
The sun is high and casts a bright
All the colors to finders sight
A basket full of Easter joys
For every girl and every boy
Beach Breezes
In a cabin on a hill
overlooking glistening
ocean, we were four friends
at leisure. On arrival,
the guys batted a ball
around using two large
umbrellas. I have the photo.
We rented funny movies,
drank more than a little
wine. My girlfriend created
a hanging man out of
pipe cleaners. We placed him
in the front window. Through
that window we watched sun
smile through daybreak,
and sky burst into purple-red
ripples at sundown.
My girlfriend’s husband,
infamous for whoops-ing
his way through dropped
glassware, wine spills,
and other ills, poked noisily,
and mercilessly at offended
logs in the fireplace.
We knew he was due for
a mishap. The guys went
out for groceries. Soon as
they left, we smelled smoke.
No joke. Mr. Whoops had dumped
what he thought were cooled
ashes into a plastic garbage
can in the kitchen. Shazam!
Fire rose and melted the can
into a strange lumpy shape.
We could not stop laughing.
We laughed on the beach,
in restaurants, and in that
cabin on a hill, overlooking
the beach.
Too funny; nice re-telling, Sara!
Indeed so.
This is a fun story.
Ah, this lilts and tilts and ends in laughs – whoops-ing all the way.
Never let whoopsy guys near fire. Great story
See This Free Sea
On the beach, the world away from world, an isle,
I’ll not remain idle, but be beckoned to the deep end,
depends on how the waves take me, grab me and raise,
rays of sun bombarding my face, and still I use my real eyes,
realize the world for what it is, the sand that can heal,
he’ll never understand what the beach does, how it frees,
freeze this world and still I stay at this beach.
Understood
Ingredients For a Happy Marriage
a little bit of whimsy
a lotta bit of soul
even more to add is silly
enough to make you roll
let’s not forget deep laughter
or crazy wazy smiles
cuz fun is what we’re after
for true love to last awhile
Spot on!
The (Dis)Ordered Pair
When her husband hinted at sex on the beach,
she said,
“Not tonight. I have a headache from inequalities.”
When he bought her an anniversary ring that looked like rose-colored glass,
she asked,
“And just what is the absolute value of this?”
When he asked if she’d be willing to go on a double date with Bob Carroll and Ted Allys,
she said,
“I’m just not into polynomial relationships.”
When they argued over his X-box playing and her mockumentary watching,
she said,
“We’re just the difference of two squares.”
When he begged her to make his mother’s infamous kale and tofubarred casserole,
she said,
“I don’t know how to graph that.”
When she mixed his gluten-free, cruelty-free mayo with her Miracle Whippet Good,
she said,
“I was just combining like terms.”
When she got fed up and overfed with his lack of functionality,
she said,
“You just don’t pass the vertical line test.”
But when she said,
“Chocolate is greater than, and rarely equal to..,”
he told her that she needed to take a break from algebra—
that it was making his stomach hurt—
to which she grinned and replied,
“I think you might have a calculus.”
This = great fun!
Is it ever!
funny, bunny, punny. Good job.
Three Ballerinas
Let’s stretch out our arms and kick up our heels.
All different, all the same, hands up, hands out.
The music plays, everyone sways, we all jump, we all move.
All different, all the same, arms up, arms out.
Deep breaths, hearts pumping
All different all the same, hands up, hands out.
All together.
As we sway to the music,
healthy exercise gets our muscles working
while oxygen clears our brains.
All different, all the same, hands up, hands out.
Collectively we contribute
to each other’s emotional health.
Arms up, arms out, reach out, touch each other.
All different, all the same, hands up, hands out
Arms up, arms out, reach out, touch each other.
All different, all the same.
Three ballerinas.
You used your refrain very nicely in this poem. This poem would be nice coupled with a painting or photo and would slip into Ekphratics well. Nice work.
Chicken Glasses
I never knew it was a thing,
and why would I, a city kid
is all I have ever been? I slid
my glasses up nose to bring
the page in view to witness:
An advertisement for glasses
made to protect your chickens’
eyeballs from others’ pecking.
Which brings me to a point
I want to make about birds.
Why don’t they use their wings
in such cases? There’s no point
in wings without flight, but birds
that cannot see shouldn’t use wings,
except if my buddy was pecking
my eyes, then boy I’d be trying.
Ha ha!
Good one, Jason!
BIG grin here.
fundamentals of the game
funneled. one fantastic tricky
fast fin-fingered fish.
he cut the cards. he dealt
them deftly. through the water. swish.
he played the carps with skill.
they’d thrill to see his scalloped shuffle.
what fun for cardshark then
to win, and eat them up. ker-puffle.
gpr crane
Fun poem!
Good one!
Love this!
Gorgeous!
We Went To The Park
We went to the park and I
Watched the children playing
Swinging high, higher
Climbing and sliding
With joyful abandon
Running and chasing
Riding imaginary horses
Sailing imaginary ships
And then a four-year old
Voice called to me – “Come
And play!”
Wonderful, Candy!
Say, I know that voice! Joyful abandon rules.
Bingo
A PEACOCK’S FEATHERED TAIL
In truth, we’ve heard it all before,
these English words can be a chore.
Who can hear the difference between
To, too, and two, or fore and four?
Is it between or betwixt,
Your, you’re, or yore? I’m fixed
betwixt a rock and a hard place,
and now I’m getting my metaphors mixed.
If a desert is served haut, is it still just desserts?
Is it hard to find a toilet while in continents foreign
and exotic? And, now my rhyming’s disappeared,
or perhaps it’s just that Iamb getting tired.
Bomb and boom, tome and tomb,
Zip, zap, and definitely a zoom,
I’m lost in my words, a colloquial labyrinth,
so, off I go to comb my nom de plume.
-JR Simmang
should be read aloud.
Yes, it’s great fun!
I Like this
Very clever, and fun to read.
It’s all of that.
Jelly Beans
Little and anticipating Easter
Bunny. full house, children
sleeping, visions of “jelly beans”
in our baskets. Wait a minute,
those are different children.
At our house we hate
jelly beans. See them
as a mere basket filler. So
when we woke it would go this way:
Screams of delight for lovely chocolates
and caramels and peep bunnies on a bed
of jelly bean padding. (As previously
mentioned we only tolerated
the colorful jelly beans
as “background candies”)
treasure hunt, then scurrying
into our parents’ room to
“See!” our candy treasures.
Confusion. Why do parents turn
all senior on holidays? Sad,
tired old people who
only want to sleep
in. We make a pact, sisters,
brothers and I— to grow
old a different way.
An hour older the scene repeats
itself with one difference. Screaming
into our parents’ room minus the joy.
We’ve been robbed!
and so quickly. For our older brother,
it was like taking candy from a baby with
his six-year un-gap-able head start,
to “win” all the delicious stuff
while children’s man-handled,
jellybeans overflow in our baskets.
Waking the sleeping giants, turns
out to be a good move for us: all candy
confiscated, redistributed and by this time
weathered jelly beans must have been as tired
as our parents, but restored to their proper place
sleepers in the bottom of our Easter baskets.
Appropriate for the season.
This is a fun memory!
wonderland
We drive by wonderland
every second weekend,
spying roller coasters,
water slides,
and gravity-defying rides.
At three-and-a-half
he’s too little to think of them
as more than just interesting trains,
and he’s nervous when his feet
don’t touch the ground.
But I can’t wait to show him,
relive my youth with him
hurtling through the air,
wind whipping hair,
and giggling at the effects
of zero gravity.
I wait longingly,
anticipating a future
day of fun with my son.
~ also published at heatherbutton[dot]com. Its a bit of an ode to the Canada’s Wonderland theme park, where I spent a few summers with season’s passes, dragging friends on all the roller coasters and many concerts.
Lovely
I really like this, for the sounds as well as the images.
Duck Duck Goose It
there once was a lass from
Nantucket – oh that is not
going to work in this bucket
of poets and poems and
limericks and tomes that
tickle the mind not the oh
Duck it!
big GIGGLE!
Make that several.
Ha ha.
LOL 🙂
Ha! Love this!
Good one! Layers of laughter here, Pearl.
Awww thank y’all – haven’t had a chance to get back until now.. still dithering about the challenge – but I had forgotten how much fun it is to be here.
THE KREWE OF PYTHON
A small band of Brits what writ
a cavalcade of skits and silly things,
sometimes men dressed as ladies in frilly things
doing silly walks down Bourbon Street.
Giant cartoon feet stepping to flatten
bystanders as they meander aimlessly,
shamelessly exposing their naughty parts,
dressed as lumberjacks and tossing Spam
at the troupe of Vikings wailing, no sailing
today for the Camembert is a bit runny.
Saying funny things to all named Bruce.
(We’re all named Bruce!) Marching
down the thoroughfare with galloping coconuts
at the ready and a steady chant of “Ni, Ni, Ni”!
Dead ex-parrots pining for the fiord!
Bringing disorder to the French Quarter
(nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition)
as the locals taunt them a second time.
Searching for the Grail without fail,
silly twits, a band of Brits! Run Away!
They don’t really like Spam! Spam! Spam! Spam!
Australia, Australia, Australia, we love you!
…And now for something completely different!
loving the .. and now for something completely different… delightful write..
Oh how they made me laugh – this did too!
should be read aloud.
How I love those guys – the Holy Grail, Flying Circus… nicely done!
You have captured the heart of this group, Walt. Loved reading this.
Yes, you helped me find my lost fun, thank you!
WHAT’S SO FUNNY?
I had a thought today.
A thought that the world
was playing a cruel and
vicious joke. And I spoke
this thought out loud
and a crowd formed.
En mass they cried,
“We don’t get it!”
neither did I!
Guess it wasn’t that funny!
Can happen to anyone.
Bull Creek on a Wednesday
We’ve off-loaded the garden tools
for sharpening at the local lawn
mower repair shed, shovels
an odd assortment of trowels
diggers, hedge trimmers all
collected from years afield
when we suddenly decide
to take the Bull Creek Trail
that meanders below the
county ball fields, water
making music out of
yesterday’s rain, mud
it’s an easy hike punctuated
by the hammering of wood
peckers above the one lane
stone bridge, hand hewn
limestone still holding back
torrents, memories of wagons
bound with grain heading west
real fun begins when I find
carpets of Virginia Waterleaf
with its silvery lacework
spread over serrated leaves
on the spongy valleys between
hickory and walnut. Happy now
to be greeted by this surprise
a species rarely found here
except along forgotten banks
I float with the notes of water
music, fingering the green blanket
as I tell the woodlands I’ll be back
for more of my kind of fun.
Lush and delight-FULL! “float with the notes of water music, finger the green blanket” can feel it!!
Lush is right; this is well-nigh perfect, in my opinion.
Nice image.
Love that last stanza!
Picnic
So many voices,
so many choices.
Where will it be?
What shall we do?
Will there be many?
Will there be few?
At the beach with a peach,
or in the park with a lark,
a twosome romantic,
or a field trip pedantic?
Potato salad, fruit salad (hugs),
chicken salad, tofu salad (ughs).
Lemonade,
the kind mom made,
or ice cold beer,
like dad held dear.
Hummus and crackers,
or, better by far,
black bean salsa,
Texas Caviar.
As for the games,
there’s none that’s
that’s a loss,
from a three-legged race
to a messy egg toss.
There’s badminton, Frisbee,
horseshoes as well,
and the pie-eating winner
will be easy to tell.
Whatever the choices,
just get out in the fun,
and never forget,
it’s supposed to be fun.
delicious giggling rhymes and memories what could be more fun?
Nothing like a fun picnic.
Ah, summertime- can’t wait!
King of the couplets, this one! Great rhymes.
I have the best minister
in the world.
I asked him if he wanted
to sell some logo t-shirts
as a fund raiser,
and he said,
we should give the away
as a fun raiser.
“Them”
It’s all about the man at the top.
ADVENTURING HIGH
Imagine sailing off like Icarus
before July melts the wax.
But I was driving switchbacks,
how could I admire the view?
A turnout.
Just a boot-tread from the edge.
Earth so far below,
I couldn’t see a thing about it.
How about Cheese Camp?
The name nagged me.
I found it on the map, it must
have a history,
a meadowland of cows
below wilderness of granite drop-offs;
earth solid, homey under my boots;
cellars dug into hillside, full of Swiss cheese.
you had me at those first two lines… “imagine sailing off like Icarus – before July melts the wax”
Amen
Love that story!
FREE ASSOCIATIONS
Funny
thoughts can occur
as quick as a bunny
when a fellow lets words come out
punny.
I love me a good punny !
Made me smile, this one-y
I am grinning!