Poet Susan Jarvis Bryant challenges her fellow poets to adapt a favorite joke into a poem with meter and rhyme. Enjoy her examples and then post your own joke-turned-poem into the comments section below.
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Pony Tale
My heart used to hanker for horses
(that bright equine blaze of delight)
till that dastardly day when dark forces
turned my thrill to a bone-chilling fright.
Oh, the trauma that followed the error
of mounting a proud chestnut colt,
who became a wild-eyed, bucking terror
determined to throw me and bolt.
He whirled and he tossed and grew sour.
My fingers, they slipped from his reins.
I was dragged till Walmart switched the power
straight off at the parking lot mains.
Now I’m banned from that store ride forever.
To be honest, I don’t really care.
I won’t straddle a pony—not ever!
I would much rather wrestle a bear.
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Laid Bare
Today I paid a pretty fee to see
My future swirl within a crystal sphere.
A symphony of summoned wizardry
Took twenty pricey minutes to appear.
It sang in tones that only pros would know
And glowed in luminescent chartreuse light.
It scattered mystic seeds for seers to sow
In words that whispered of tomorrow’s plight.
My fortune-teller peered beyond her veil;
With eyes that rolled she told me I would choke
On gummy bears. My clammy skin grew pale.
My death was but a punchline to a joke.
With foresight, my headstone will simply say:
“Killed by Bears”—no more, no less—no way!
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Groucho’s Gefilte
Always the same little hash joint.
For lunch, the identical dish –
in Kremzer’s, on Mott and Delancey,
potatoes and yiddisher fish.
His real name was Julius Henry,
but “Groucho” is how he was known.
His whim was to lunch in the corner,
unsmiling, unnoticed, alone.
So in comes a true-born impresser,
a back-slapping man about town.
He’s towing some Princeton professor,
and eyeballs the vaudeville clown.
Finagling faux introductions,
the forte of showbusiness sharks:
he’ll astonish the ecrivain manque …
“I’ll get you an entree with Marx!”
He gives it the big how’s-it-going,
the Princeton prick shuffles his feet.
But Groucho, unseeing, unknowing,
uncaring, continues to eat.
“This man wrote ‘The Vanderbilts’, damn it!”
(incipient panic attack).
Without looking up, answers Groucho,
“The Vanderbilts – did they write back?”
Bravo! I like that Groucho.
Michael, very well done! Thank you for rising to the challenge so magnificently!
Jack and Jill
Went up the hill,
Each with buck and a quarter.
Jill came down with $2.50–
They didn’t go up for water.
Joe, I much prefer this version of the nursery rhyme… how naughty!
I love it! Thanks for the laugh!
Untamed Wishes
If all wishes were horses, even beggars would ride.
Maybe then I would take pride in my longing for the Queen.
I fall, I walk, I talk, I get quiet, I quit.
For the Queen cannot be my Queen.
For the Queen, is living a routine.
A chain that shall not entertain a mere nothing.
Just maybe if wishes were horses, even me I would ride with her majesty.
Night Terriers
I suffer from insomnia,
Each night I burn in Hell.
Strangely, I’m agnostic and
Dyslexic – I can’t spell.
I toss and turn all through the night;
My head is in a fog,
Deliberating over the
Existence of a doG.
Mike, you are barking mad! That makes two of us!
Right! The one about the dyslexic agnostic insomniac who stayed up all night wondering if there really was a dog. Love it.
Why The Chicken Crossed the Road
A chicken crossed the road one day,
We never figured why…
(Not for lack of effort, nor
Of willingness to try).
Some said it was to find a mate,
Some said it was to eat.
Some said it was to get some shade
From summer’s torrid heat.
No one knew just why the hell
This chicken crossed the road–
Perhaps he had some chickenshit
He needed to unload.
Joe – this is utterly hilarious. I always thought these chicken-crossing-road jokes were rather pointless, and now I know different! Here’s to the wonder of poetry!
Why Did the Chicken Cross the Road?
Why did the chicken cross over the road?
To get to a place less corrosive.
Where a chicken was free to cross roads as it pleased,
Without anyone judging its motive.
Mr. Salemi, the chicken who crossed the road, has always been a funny joke but now we know he had something to deposit on the other side of the road.
THERE WAS A YOUNG CHICKEN THAT CROSSED THE ROAD
HE WAS JUST TRYING TO REACH HIS ABODE
HE WAS HIT AS HE CROSSED
BY A CAR & THEN TOSSED
INTO A RESTAURANT AND HE’S NOW ALAMODE
I love it. Thanks for the first giggle I’ve had today.
Lesley Hughes
That’s What It’s All About!
For ages I’ve been fighting dance addiction,
The Hokey Pokey’s causing excess friction.
My marriage was once joyous and so sound –
If only I could turn myself around!
Can’t stop smiling! Thanks.
Beverly, we could certainly do with a bit of cheering up in these tough times – what better way than poetry with a grin. 🙂
How does a cat
(If you fancy that)
Differ from a comma
Can you tell your momma?
With a smile so bright
She said, this is right:
A cat has its claws
At the end of its paws
And a comma is a pause
At the end of a clause.
For a rhyming joke
It’s a joke bespoke.
And I’m all admiration
It’s about punctuation.
Rohini, I love it – homophones used to their absolute best! I wish grammar was this fun when I was a kid. Thank you!
Statistics
The experts use statistics,
But often that seems fickle.
What good is proof that average people
Have one testicle?
Russel, very clever and highly amusing! Thank you for the grin!
Charlotte Bronte wrote Jane Eyre
Over one hundred years ago in 1847
Jane was an orphan and hired by
Rochester to teach his little girl Adele
He fell in love with Jane
And society frowned on poor girls marrying the rich landlords
Despite that Rochester could not help loving Jane
He read his horoscope
It said do not be a dope.
He threw a party to impress
And invited his fiancé
And thought to disguise himself
As a gypsy and for pure entertainment
He pulled it off and not one of his friends knew it was him
His Fiancé came in sat down and found out
Rochester did not have the money she thought he had.
She knew right there and then she had nothing
To gain by marrying him.
She believed the fortune teller’s lies and packed her bags.
Dressing himself as a gypsy to find out his instincts were right
The girl was nothing but a fortune seeker
Norma, “Jane Eyre” is one of my favorite nineteenth century novels and you have put a whole new twist on it – thank you for your input! In fact, it reminds me of a humorous poem I wrote on “Rebecca” by Daphne Du Maurier – another of my favorites. I apologize in advance for any offense it may cause – please put it down to an offbeat sense of humor 🙂
Who the Hell is Rebecca?
“And he went on eating his marmalade as though everything were natural.” ~ Daphne du Maurier, Rebecca
Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again
Hellbent on my intent to vent my spleen and then
Eradicate Rebecca and proclaim the name
More vital to the title of the author’s pen.
Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again
With spite enough to fight for rights to rule and win
A place in Danvers’ grace without the raw disdain
Of such a bicker-picking, knicker-twisting grin.
Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again;
Robust of voice, I’d made the choice to claim my reign
With rigid rod to tame each sod who cast false blame;
I’d grown the balls to strut the halls of my past pain.
Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again
Where haughty hubby, Maximilian, deigned to claim
He’d lost his nameless, mousy spouse of scattered brain –
And gained a snippy, cocky chappie known as Wayne!
Dear Susan, I have read Rebecca written in 1937 as well.
And have been impressed with the book.
However my interpretation is that the new” nameless” Mrs. DeWinters was afraid of Mrs. Danvers who was obsessed with her and even said, Rebecca in a rage killed a horse. She seemed to have no compassion and abused her power. Tragically lying about being pregnant and enraging Mr. DeWinter to the point of killing her.
I think your take on the book is a bit confusing to me. I don’t know who Wayne is. Sorry about that. I am happy that you wrote about the book, but I don’t get the meaning of your poem.
Calculated Success
Three colleagues — a mathematician,
A physicist, and statistician —
One weekend last fall
Decided to all
Embark on a bow hunting mission.
When they spied a 12-pointer that autumn,
They unquivered their arrows and shot’em;
Some fell short (not so strong),
Some fell equally long —
So the stat-man exclaimed, “Guys, we got’im!”
I love this one, Anna, from the clever title to the giggle of a closing line. Bravo!!
Tender Is The Thigh
I know a man devoted to
A meat that thrills him through and through.
Not.drumsticks fried, or chicken tenders,
.Soup or gumbo he remembers–
Oh no, he wants those chicken breasts,
But always calls them chicken chests.
Size Forty-seven DDD –
A nice size, but too much for tea
He’ll saute them, have them for dinner,
.Worst kind of hypocrite and sinner.
Sally, you have done this challenge proud. You had me laughing out loud by “Size Forty-seven DDD –/A nice size, but too much for tea” – hilarious… and then, the closing couplet… a thigh-slapping delight that has the breast punchline ever! Thank you!
BELL BOY
Pavlov made a booking at a chateau by the sea
To have a charming evening of romantic harmony.
His chic Dalmatian girlfriend, who had snuck into his heart,
Begged for his betrothal after orders à la carte.
While quaffing pink Champagne and scarfing finest caviar,
He heard incessant ringing from a phone behind the bar.
The escargot would have to wait along with legs of frogs.
To hell with love eternal – Pavlov had to feed his dogs!
Susan, there’s a typo in line 5 – it should be “scarfing,” not”‘scoffing.”
Oops, it’s another of my British words. To scoff in British English means to eat quickly and greedily. I have never heard the word “scarf” in the eating sense, only the wearing round the neck sense. I will most certainly change it, and thank you for giving me another word to add to my ever-increasing lexicon.
All at Sea
I went to the doctor last Monday.
He asked me “From what do you ail?”
I replied “Every morning at six;
Precisely, and never with fail,
I empty my bladder completely;
And that’s my embarrassing tale.
The doctor said “No need to worry,
Your malady seems rather pale.
It’s normal to wake every morning
And spout like a surfacing whale.”
“That isn’t the issue good doctor.
The reason I came here to wail
Is because I don’t wake until seven,
Adrift in a sea, without sail.”
David, you have elevated this hilarious joke to new heights! I am laughing out loud at, “ It’s normal to wake every morning/And spout like a surfacing whale.” Thank you for brightening my morning!
Day Tripper
I bought a pair of shoes in town last night.
My sneaker dealer said, “They’re dynamite!”
Today, I’m trippin’ everywhere I go.
What did he lace them with? I’d like to know.
Mike,
I bought some shoes from the very same guy –
the heels were spiked and way too high!
I’ll Never See Red
I just found out I’m colorblind.
I never had a clue.
The diagnosis blew my mind,
It came out of the yellow.
“Our inmates take a Brandy with Viagra,
It helps them through the night,’” the Warden said.
“The Brandy sends them off to sleep so quickly,
The other stops them rolling out of bed.”
Very funny, Jeff – that warden has those hardened criminals under control.
Our science teacher’s passed away
His face we’ll see no more
For what he thought was H2O
Was H2S04
Two onions met and fell in love,
And married in the greatest bliss;
They soon thereafter had a child:
Perfection! Not a layer amiss.
But one bright day outside their home,
Their wondrous, little child was hit;
They found him broken in the street,
And feared he wouldn’t make it.
They bore him to the Surgery,
And dad rolled up and down the hall,
While mum sat crying in a chair,
And thought about her child’s close call.
At last the surgeon shuffled out,
Kind-eyed as he was able;
“Sir and ma’am, I have bad news:
Your son’s a . . . vegetable.”
(Veggie-table is the pronunciation I’ve in mind, by the by.)
OK… the mispronunciation makes that pretty funny…
Thank you, Talbot! I’m crying with laughter – onion jokes have that effect on me.
Olfactory Humour
I met a fellow down the Ship and Bell
who said, “My faithful canine hath no nose.”
Quod I, “Most strange! How doth your poor dog smell?”
And he replied, ” Much worse than you’d suppose!”
Paul, this joke is so much funnier as a poem. The opening line and the archaic language make it hilarious – well done and thank you!
Thanks. It is a particularly good challenge you’ve set us.
How The Cow Ate The Cabbage
In the days when an ankle was classed as erotic
and a traveling circus was labelled exotic,
an elephant broke from the caged and the barred
to graze in Great Grandma’s amazing backyard.
Having slipped the confines of that cramped circus cell,
it grew weary from plodding and hungry as hell.
It was then the beast spotted Gran’s sweet cabbage patch
and halted to feast on the flourishing batch.
Now Granny, short-sighted but far from infirm,
had never clapped eyes on a stray pachyderm.
With its swishing appendage and penchant to dine
she thought it no more than a roving bovine.
Having duly discovered the beefy leaf-thief,
she called up the cops to impart all her grief
with a rare explanation in the realms of absurd,
for this cow was a few moos removed from the herd.
“Sheriff!” she cried, “There’s a cow in my crop;
it’s picking my yield with its tail and won’t stop!
When it plucks up each cabbage, my cheeks are aglow –
because where this cow shoves them, you don’t want to know!”
Your yarn is great fun of how granny was suckered,
or perhaps she was fooled by its lips that were puckered.
Caribbean Comedy
Unto the Western Indies did I take a
vacation, my wife’s first time trip abroad.
Asked Alfred, down the Dog and Duck, “Jamaica?”
“Heck, no!” quod I. “Twas of her own accord.”
Paul, I love this! “I take a/Jamaica” – ingenious! LOL
Definitely the best thing since sliced bread, these poetic jokes. Thanks for taking us there Susan, and thank you to all the contributors. This is fun!
Thank you, Yael. You gave me the confidence to push forward with this, and I’m glad I did. We could all do with a laugh in these troubled times – it’s the best medicine, indeed!
Dear Susan – My finger suffered a seizure (or perhaps it has been tippling) and it entered the joke several times. Please wield your feared editorial digit and remove all but the first entry. Thank you. You continue to entertain and amaze me. Jan
The Invitation
‘Your Rawl Highness’ read the letter ‘would yuz do a favour please
We’re planning a grand big opening – we’d like yuz to hand us the keys.
It’ll be posh, with cucumber sarnies and we’ll all turn up in our best
We’d love to see ya out here – yud be our honoured guest..
‘We’re just a little township in the middle of the sticks
Kev will do the write up and Bluey takes the pics
Don’t wear nothin’ fancy , we’re not big on city rags
But we will clean up the sheepyard and bag up all the dags.
‘We’ve never seen no rawlty ‘cos we’re far from city streets
We’re mostly cattle farmers, growin’ fodder and some wheats.
But jeez, we’d love to see ya sitting with us on a bale
We’d treat yuz to a barbecue washed down with our best ale.’
The letter gave location and the date and time as well
It was posted, came the answer
‘he’s comin’! bloody ‘ell!’
Prince Charles approached his mother to ask her sage advice
On how he should be dressing – she’d been to Orstralia twice.
‘Wear your regimental uniform and don’t forget to take a hat
You’re off to Gundagindi? Where the fock’s that?’
‘Thank you Mummy’ gushed our Charlie and off he went content
Straight to the Palace milliner, a dapper little gent.
The Prince arrived with time to spare mid seas of waving flags
He was thrilled to find the locals not averse to shooting stags.
The hall that he was opening was full of heads of beasts
And trestles groaning with the goods presented for all feasts.
Shortly he took off his hat and placed it on a chair
It was a warm and furry thing, far too hot for wear
He wondered why Her Majesty had recommended that
And why she’d clearly said to him ‘Wear the fox hat’.
Jan Darling
‘
Jan, I love it! Thank you for taking up the challenge with this crown-jewel of a poem. ❤️
Thank you Susan – I feel very flattered. I am your greatest fan.
Comic Couplet No 1:
“Why did that bike fall over that you hired?”
“Quite clearly,” I replied, “it was two tired.”
Comic Couplet No. 2
“What has four wheels and flies? (This joke doth suck!)
The answer is, my friend, a garbage truck.”
Paul, I’m thoroughly enjoying these comic couplets – keep them coming!