LinesRoses are red,Violets are blue.Some poems have four lines,Some poems have five,Like this one.
Some Poems Rhymeï»¿Roses are red,Violets are blue.Some poems rhymeBut this one doesn't.
Funny Halloween (Attention: Black Humour/Satire)!Lightning sparkle through the night.The wind is howling – hissing and crashing.Bones rise from the graves.Who wants can cook a little soup.Dracula and FrankensteinBreak into the blood bankAnd swallow a burgundy,Rhesus positive.A witch is flying around the house.She looks like the mother-in-law.Three black ravens afterwards -Since that time I do not drink anymore.Two zombies behind the mortuaryPull out a dead,Break open his chest,Smear ketchup on top of it.From an old filing cabinetComes a terrible stench.It is a civil servant in decomposition.We wish a soon recovery.In deep cellars and archives,Where until now the rats were sleeping,An executioner teases a nun.What a joy! What delight!The poor souls lament loudly.A devil is sitting in the sauerkraut.The fermentation is interrupted nowBecause he has smelled of sulphur.Young and old scorch in the fire.The fear flows out of all pores.Moaning prevails and great agony -And for that you have to pay admiss
The Boob PoemBoobs make running painfulBoobs make comfort rare.Boobs make shopping difficultBoobs make perverts stare.Boobs gave birth to push up brasBoobs will weigh you down.Boobs are such a nuisanceBoobs tend to bounce aroundBoobs are very awkwardBoobs give little luck.Boobs get so much hate these daysWell, that's because they suck.
A Random Halloween Poem- The HallsThe Halls.The Halls.The eerie faces on the walls.They callthey callthey call for all to join the ball.For the night's alive with the living dead.Let's just hope they've been well fed.
The Sample SnatcherYou go in with just one missionGet in, get outGrab what you needAnd you’re doneBut then you see itThere at the end of the aisleA little red boothWith the woman servingThere’s a crowd this timeShe pulls the tray from the ovenThere are only a few piecesYou spot the one you wantYou scout out your competitionThere’s the tall skinny one,He was at the last boothAnd the little kid, tooThe chubby one comes runningAs fast as he canHe swipes that little sampleRight from your reachHe runs awayLaughing all the wayQuite contentWith his little snack,You watch him goAnd think to yourselfNext time, sample snatcherNext time…Because I know you’ll be thereWaiting to pounceOn someone else’s midday snackBut not on my watchI’ll be there first next timeAnd then I will bethe sample snatcher,snatching right from your reach
Parting WordsLive. Laugh. Love.Or, indeeed, Noneof The Above.
The Reality of AngstInternet hyperbole just makes me want to set myself on fire.Living on a wireSeeing the big wireWhat rhymes with wire?...Fire! Fire!
The Science TestIn order to study for the test.Talking to yourself is probably best.Although people might think you're crazy.It's better than being lazy.Ask yourself how or why.So on he test you can supply.Repeat these questions to your cat.So you know your answers are exact.Repeat them again to your mom.So you know that you won't be wrong.For the test you'll need to know phase change.And that the temperature stays the same.In order to study for the test.Talking to yourself is probably best. Another poem based off the crazy things that go on in Science class.
The Never Ending QuestI’ve searched high, and I’ve searched low.From all the intricacies of the bustling citythroughout the vast wide open spaces of the countryside.I have crossed oceans and climbed mountain topsso far up- I high-fived a cloud.Like a concerned motherscouring the grocery store for her lost child;Here I am searching for my one beloved.What lies beyond the farthest star?It must be what I seek.Within the curvy valley,or somewhere near the twin peaks?I must complete my quest.Like the gilded hero,I will not rest day or nightuntil I can find my captured princess.The dancing animals that hung above my cribwere just out of my reach.They sang a beautiful lullabyas they paraded in a merry go round of joy.Such is what I desire, a beauty just beyond my reach,ballet dancing in the gallery of my thoughtsto The Carnival of Animals that played above my crib.Fond memories are but plastic bags in the windcompared to the real thing.What I seek I once had, but lost.I would
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NonsensicalRoses are blueDinosaurs are purpleThis poem makes no senseToaster.