How to Write Funny Poems

1. Read Responsibly: Never seek to copy the work of others. As read your favorite poems, pay attention to what you find funny and humorous. Often you’ll realize that your favorite poems are the ones that display the personality of the poet. The majority of funny poems come from funny people who do not care whether or not their poems are considered funny. In other words, you must find your own unique sense of humor.  Learn to make yourself laugh and the others will follow. Humor is purely a matter of opinion. Read responsibly. Read poetry to entertain yourself but never to get new ideas for your own poems. If you do, your new poetry will be someone’s old poetry. Some of the greatest humorous poets of our day contribute their success to writing their own unique poetry without contaminating their style with that of other writers. That being said, you should still read my poems. 😉

2. Make a List:Most poets suff

I feel soft ghostly hands around my throat

That want to pull me to the darkest deep

My husband cannot leave or be remote

He wishes me to join him in his sleep.

I shall resist for I desire to live

Though blind now are my hours without his face.

I have no more I hope to give

Since he withdrew from me his kind embrace.

As lonely as a swan without its mate.

As tired as swallows after they migrate

I must accept my unconsoled fate

I’ll not accept this be a constant state.

From my loss, I shall recover when

The birds return and summer comes again

Nowadays people have got the idea that writing helps one emotionally.Sometimes they have carried out experiments on groups of people and found the immune system was better on those who expressed their problems in writing.The scientific way  is one way to look at  it or we can use our experience,
With trauma writing or talking about it soo soon can make you feel worse.If it is an emotion like sorrow or anxiety it may help simply because if you start writing it is a form of distraction.
Apparently writing in form is better than free verse as it creates a  psychological container for the emotions.I read  Sylvia Plath might have been less depressed if she had written in form in her last year We can’t prove that
Another idea I have had is to use the energy of the emotion in your writing but write about something else.Using the energy is good for you.I think.I have done this and it helps because when we are upset we need to soothe ourselves.Some people clean out a drawer, for example.So if you write a letter about something different the act of writing  has a soothing effect.I assume you will not write a nasty letter or email as you will feel worse and upset the other person.
Poets have a higher suicide rate than other people but it’s hard to know what is cause and what is effect.
All writers spend a lot of time alone.Leonard Cohen needed that and it made his relationships hard for his partners so often they left him.He suffered from ssevere depression but said suicide was undignified!He managed to have a long career and certainly shared his feelings of love and loss and about politics.

I thought about me  trapping some  free verse
Where does it hang out when off the page?
I could change it to a sonnet, at my worst.

Humans were once hunters and we’re cursed
We still have the vision and the rage
I thought about me  trapping some  free verse

If verse were never free, it might get terse
Put a sign up saying, I’m engaged
I could change it to a sonnet, at the worst.

Into  slavish  forms we are coerced
Joan of Arc was burned  tied to a  stake
Who thought of her escaping or rebirth.?

If only human actions  were rehearsed
We could change our paths  as do snowflakes
I could change life to a sonnet, verse by verse.

Slit the sentence, take out all that aches
Sew it up and see the world  remade
I thought about me  trapping some  free verse
I could change it to a sonnet or digress

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/resources/learning/glossary-terms/detail/free-verse

Through the pain of grief our love displays.
Like fireworks decorate the sky above.,
The happiness we had in former years

The pain leaks out in tears from reddened eyes
Love too big to keep at a remove
Through the pain of grief this love displays.

But after seas are watered with dark tears
We  climb back  up the cliffs without our love,
Without the happiness we had before.

With the grief, ,we feel a  panic fear
As if the saddest loss were not enough
Through the pain of grief our love’s displayed

So we suffer loss in many layers
Unless our partner was a tyrant rough
We  had no happiness  in former years

All who love   inhabit tragic plays
Happiness  interwoven with  due loss
Through the pain of grief  for love we pay

A kindly friend with sympathy may soothe
And yet our minds are swollen, deeply bruised
Through the pain of grief our love displays.
The joy we took for granted every day

The sunset is pale
Coral with grey finger marks~
No bird sang today

Sensitive  souls don’t enter politics
They’re writers, artists, dreamers, parents, nerds
They would not give  assent to  dirty tricks

A pebble thrown feels like a heavy brick.
They grieve when feral cats catch garden birds.
Sensitive  souls will not like politics

They prefer a   real pen to a Bic
They do  not like to use distasteful words
They cannot give  assent to  dirty tricks

They wonder  whether  “Bricks ” are artistic
But often their bewilderment’s unshared
Sensitive  souls won’t enter politics

They’re resistant to being forced to answers quick
Their pleasure is quite easily  perturbed
They cannot give  assent to  dirty tricks

By news about fierce conflict, they’re disturbed
Feel the guilt  of  Crusades and of Wars
Sensitive  souls won’t enter politics
They cannot give  assent to  dirty tricks

The  hope of loving, guns combusted
She thinks  of love, but never acts it
He thinks  of her and then thinks past her

Laid out, her roses  alabaster
She folds her infants in, what tactics
We live to love, but death is faster

She burned his books, his mistress  mastered
The dictionary charred, now brown and spastic
Was that the smoke in which he’d  tossed her?

The  feel of loving surges swifter
The clothes they wore agon, elastic.
Metric, rhyme thus he confused her.

He  feels her still and feels  it juster
To betray , to  make her more didactic
When he’s the one who marred her lustre

Would you say  the dialogue’s defective
Or is it good to add invectives?
The lust of loving makes us  bastards
He longed  for her but lived on  after

Won’t you come back
Through the crack, that silence
Between what is and
What can be said?
It’s so peaceful there
Under the roots of the grass
And the flowers.
Tree roots dig tunnels
They mine, looking for new
Places to  connect
And we see the light in the gap
See people from underneath
See their shoes’ weathered soles
Want to be held
Not seen but touched.
Want to meld.
I imagine we  meet
In this place underneath
Flat like dried bats
Inching our way to the light
Out of the night
Quite out of sight

The many coloured fishing boats at dawn
Floated on the cold and Northern sea
They sailed beneath  the  rising sun, adorned

The empty beach looked grave as if forlorn
Yet soon  the  boats would   decorate it free
Those many coloured fishing boats of dawn

These boats were fishing when I was newborn
And rings were  growing in the   churchyard’s trees
Boats sailed beneath  the  rising sun, adorned

I stood beside the window filled with joy.
The image of the boats made me well pleased.
Those many coloured fishing boats of dawn

From sacred moments  images will  form
To help us with our sorrow  when bereaved
We too shall sail beneath  the  sun divine

Unlike  our gold and  jewels none can steal
Our inner wealth, the hand  that turns the wheel
The many coloured fishing boats at dawn
Sailed beneath  the  rising sun, adorned

Trying to digest life’s strange and awful ploys.
Is it merely chance that brings them here?
Send me my mother and my little box of toys

I only wish I had a stronger voice
And a breastplate to protect me from the spears
Trying to digest life’s strange and awful ploys.

When I was a child, I liked to play with boys
As they tormented me, then I began to fear
Send me back to  mother and my little box of toys

For fifty years I’ve known love and all her joys
I have loved men but now  they look unclear
I hope to digest life’s deranged and awful ploys.

Some call me bold and others call me shy
I  wear a dress   like  my mother used to wear
Send me back to  Mammy and my little box of toys

Today was bad and now I feel  you sneer
I’ll hire a boat and row to Southend Pier
Trying to digest life’s strange and awful joys.
I need my Mammy and my little box of toys

We are little leaves upon the tree
We  never did control our  tiny worlds
The tree of life; what power, what  mystery

With metaphor, it’s easier to see
Life is tender, see each leaf unfurl
We are only leaves upon the tree

Singing in the sun we seem to be
Full of joy until the storm winds swirl
The tree of life; what power, what  mystery

Extinguished   candles   smoke at Tenebrae
We are blown to death however bold
We are little leaves upon the tree

Thus we sacrifice to God uncertainly
Yet as the wars continue, we grow cold
The tree of life; what power, what  mystery

Who has dropped us from the hands that hold?
Who has stolen certainty untold?
We are little leaves upon the tree
The tree of life; what power, what  mystery

Jeremy Corbyn
Gets up every morning
He looks  at his phone
Utters mobile groans
Will he never accept
His campaign has been wrecked?
He’s got no charisma
Just a greyish miasma
But psychopaths win
And he is not one
Well,I am done
I want some more fun

The vicious never pause  or hesitate
They run towards us with  their eyes  aflame
For others, doubt’s  as natural as fate

What of those whose vocation is debate?
They love to argue, meddle and play  games
The vicious never  pause  or hesitate

For myself, my actions are delayed
As I wonder if my actions suit my aims
For others, doubt’s as natural as fate

But if we doubt, we may decide too late
And other stronger people reach their aims
The vicious never  pause  or hesitate

In our souls, we need a silence to create
And people may perceive us to be lame
For others, doubt’s as natural as fate

Many people desire much wealth and fame
A desire which, when achieved , leaves them insane
The vicious never pause  or meditate
For others, doubt will make them only late

Our Other who stars in Heaven,
Spell me your Great Name.
Your wisdom comes
And Angels’ sums
Add up all human pain.
Thy love is felt,
Though we live in doubt
About the human game.
Give us delay
On bankers pay,
And forgive us our lacklustre efforts
As we  try to forgive those who lack humanity with us,
And guide us into a Demonstration
To make plain to the Nation
The evil done to the Poor,
The Disabled,the Mentally Ill,
And their Carers.
For Thine is the Trial
At the Hour of the Bible Story
We hope but are nervous.
Amen

Jeremy Corbyn
Seems to alarm ’em
What’s he not done
To give them their fun?
He’s much too left wing
Attlee was wrong.
Jeremy, my saviour
Smarten up your behaviour
They got Michael Foot
For wearing wrong coats.
Should we adapt to reality
Or stick  hard to fidelity?

http://health.usnews.com/wellness/articles/2016-04-19/the-psychological-impact-of-victim-blaming-and-how-to-stop-it

Extract

Image by Kate

How Big is Infinity? by Tony Crilly

http://www.logicalfallacies.info/

“Once it has been decided what is to count as a logical fallacy, the question remains as to how the various fallacies are to be categorised. The most common classification of fallacies groups fallacies of relevance, of ambiguity, and of presumption.

Arguments that commit fallacies of relevance rely on premises that aren’t relevant to the truth of the conclusion. The various irrelevant appeals are all fallacies of relevance, as are ad hominems.

Arguments that commit fallacies of ambiguity, such as equivocation or the straw man fallacy, manipulate language in misleading ways.

Arguments that commit fallacies of presumption contain false premises, and so fail to establish their conclusion. For example, arguments based on a false dilemma or circular arguments both commit fallacies of presumption.

These categories have to be treated quite loosely. Some fallacies are difficult to place in any category; others belong in two or three. The ‘No True Scotsman’ fallacy, for example, could be classified either as a fallacy of ambiguity (an attempt to switch definitions of “Scotsman”) or as a fallacy of presumption (it begs the question, reinterpreting the evidence to fit its conclusion rather than forming its conclusion on the basis of the evidence).”

When logic’s overvalued, it deceives
The premises are not examined well.
Reason’s based on what the eye receives.

It utilises just what we perceive.
Recollect exactly how Troy fell
While logic is so valued, it deceives

In the minds of rogues, tricks are conceived
Things look safe but one can’t  always tell
Reason’s based on what the mind receives.

Our prejudices alter all our views
From boredom to excitement feel, the thrill
While logic is so valued, it deceives

Another influence is the media news
We are altered without using any will
Reason’s based on what the mind receives.

Even when aware it happens still
And so the  great deceivers make their kill
When logic’s overvalued, it deceives
Reason’s based on what the mind perceives.