Humorous Poetry

A little story I must tell​
just yesterday, in Mid-December​
a girl, neither Sue nor Amber​
but of demonic name, no one can spell​
sat through an annoyingly cold night​
under a skew-whiff, snow-laden tree​
whishing whole-heartedly this might be​
a red hot night instead of all this white​

24th.jpg

all it would take was a smidgeon of sin​
so from her hand down onto the floor​
fell the twenty-fourth calendar door​
chocolate ran from the corner of her grin.​
And just like that, a night so pale​
turned into an epic adults fairy tale,​
read behind closed doors in the candlelight,​
of a succubus and her festive appetite.​
 
When puppies bounce
And trot with you
Their tongues wagging
As fast as their tails
Cold noses tickling
With puppy kisses
 
Live Nudes
—Sign over Dream Girls at Rick's on Lake City Way, Seattle

Is this a joke or just Rick teasing
those few who box-check "necrophile"?
'Cuz I, as guy, like my nudes breathing—
sex with the living's more worthwhile.


Yeah, I know. I'm trying to get back into the poem-writing mindset and the mind is seriously resisting.
 
Stopping at the Pub on the Road to Divorce

I’ve worked my shift. Toward Home, I’ll go.
My wife is likely sleeping, though.
So, what the hell? It’s just one beer.
I’ve got this round. She’ll never know.

The pub is packed, and friends are near.
The night, alight with mirth and cheer.
Perhaps I made my first mistake,
when I first tipped that second beer.

The curve was sharp. I failed to brake.
The bank was steep. Deep was the lake.
The cops were called. My sins, I’ll reap.
I damned near drowned, for heaven's sake.

The judge was tough. The fines were steep.
My keys and license, sworn to keep.
Now on the couch, I’m doomed to sleep.
Now on the couch, I’m doomed to sleep.
 
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