Dumb poem collection - #120 through #133
Onward and maybe even upward
I worked a little bit on these, hopefully enough to keep folks happy and looking for some more.
#120 - Modulated infrequency
Scott is hot for radio.
He listens while his work will go
Some day he’ll switch off – por Dio.
# 121 - Annie - bigger and better
She sure was a real tiny baby.
That’s true without any maybe,
but, once she’d begun,
she grew up; it was fun.
Without Annie, what would each day be?
# 122 - The buck stops here
Our patients are handled with care
just as long as they pay their full share.
Here at Parkway Lab
nothing goes on the tab.
Still, a surplus of funds is quite rare.
# 123 - The repairman
You authors have no need to holler.
I never copy. I simply foller
your one good thought (if I can find it).
Then I clean it up so folks won’t mind it,
and when I’m done, it’s worth a dollar.
# 124 - Breeding
A gross young punk, named Mark,
cursed at folks just for a lark.
Though his mother was there,
she seemed unaware
that Mark’s tail didn’t wag with each bark.
# 125 - Just the bare facts
The exerciser in the park
had audience from dawn to dark.
Her clothes were thin
and not tucked in,
but none watching would remark.
# 126 - Keeping house
Her house is real clean.
She’s a soap-slinging queen.
With each mess she gets downright avulsive.
# 127 - A computerized Satchel Paige
The secret’s in his brand new ball.
Once airborne, it can never fall
unless he beeps its micro-brain
with belly button. There’s no strain.
That may be why the coaches call.
# 128 - Higher medicine
There once was a lab, up on the tenth floor,
that took in all samples through a hole in the door.
When the doctors came in
all tests would begin.
Each day was a regular bore.
# 129 - Kwitcher fakin’
If my barbecue
were not for you,
you’d not be pickin’
at my chicken.
You’d stick to stew.
# 130 - Telephone connections
Ma Bell, Ma Bell, through you we tell
our bankers we need money.
Your monthly billing, for you fulfilling,
is, to us, just not so funny.
You have us wired ‘til we’re tired.
Your transistors daily rate us.
Were you not blind, you’d quickly find
that your bills disintegrate us.
Soon you’ll be alone, with phone on phone,
when all of us go broke.
Your recordings’ll play to each other all day.
Then your bills will be a joke.
# 131 - The law of compensation
Ben Franklin said it best of all,
"As taxes rise, the kings must fall."
# 132 - The bigger they come
Rosalinde is quite tall.
For blandishments she will not fall.
Her heart’s not for thieving
(no loving and leaving).
It’s her game, for she owns the ball.
# 133 - No overtime
There once lived a skinny
and smart aborigine.
Without clothes, in the sun,
his days were all fun.
By nightfall he truly was fini.
More by this Author
Numbers 13 through 24 in the first collection of funny little poems - Don't be nosy, Birthdays, The jet age, Paradise lost, The librarian, Elery Johnson, Amphibious advice, A pair in the apple tree, the power of babble,...
There is some sort of story behind each of the dumb poems in this collection. The ones on this page are not exceptions. So, below each of them I will provide the tale, at least as best as I can remember it. The...
SeraphicInsights.com has a plagiarizing "CEO" whose dishonesty toward writers is here described. If you are a writer-member of Tony's website keep track of whose name Tony sticks atop your articles.