Funny Poems – The Piddlers Lament

The Piddlers Lament

(Funny Poems)

I’m piddl’n and paus’n and paus’n and piddl’n

and then I’m a-paus’n once more.

It’s three in the morn’n, I’ll be back before dawn’n

and I’ll walk that cold lavat’ry floor

It’s every two hours, these piddl’n wee showers

Get me up and roused out of my bed

First it’s one, then it’s three, then it’s five that I pee

I should be a-sleep’n instead

I’m there in the dark, at this ev’ry night lark

A-piddl’n and paus’n and curs’n

I can’t sleep hours eight, or even sleep late

Like a normally piddl’n person

Too late now I know, for long and smooth flow

When old prostate’s all swollen and knotty

‘twould be for the best if they cut out the pest

And I slept – ‘stead of piddl’n – int’ potty

Now doctor’s the man, to say if he can

“There are steps which right now can be taken”

And to make things work proper, he’ll plumb me with copper.

Then I’ll sleep the night through, ‘fore I’ll waken.

By – John Rogers

Funny Poems – The Menopause Blues

The Menopause Blues

(Funny Poems)

You may think I’m old and I’m wrinkly,

My body’s a terrible state.

My hair’s going gray, I suppose you might say,

I’m well past my ‘Best Before Date’.

I think that my hearing is muffled,

I know that my teeth are all plastic.

I’m blind as a bat, but I’m grateful for that –

The view in the mirror’s less drastic.

I’m obeying the old law of gravity,

And if it commands me much more,

I’ll have rucksacks for eyes, boobs down to my thighs

And my buttocks will drag on the floor.

At aerobics I’d drown out the music,

With that godawful cracking and creaking,

And I’d just feel like shit if I tried to ‘keep fit’,

My joints would protest with loud squeaking.

I’m not into jogging or swimming,

It’s too much like strenuous toil,

My body won’t take it: I can’t even fake it

With gallons of 3-in-one oil.

But before you throw me on the scrap-heap,

Or have me put down by the vet.

Just wait, hold the zimmer. There might be a glimmer

Of hope for the old baggage yet.

There’s a lot to be said for experience,

It wasn’t all trouble and strife.

Just let me have fun with somebody’s son,

And I’ll soon spring back into life.

I could do with a nice little toy-boy,

I’d teach him a lesson or two.

Or perhaps three or four, then maybe some more,

Let’s see what an old girl can do.

I’ve learned quite a lot in my lifetime,

Like how to be free and inventive,

The physical jerks would themselves be the perks,

Now that’s what I call incentive.

As much as I’ve gained in endurance,

In exchange, I’ve lost inhibitions.

I’m raring to go and show what I know,

For hours, without intermissions.

Or maybe I’ll go for an old one,

A ‘dirty’ old man, I just might.

So long as he’s clean, and I know where he’s been,

And he brings his own box of Yeast-Vite.

Though he might be a little bit slower,

At least he’d have more staying powers.

Though he may be wizened, once it has risen

He could possibly go on for hours.

An older man might have his drawbacks,

No hair, a loose denture that chatters.

But while he’s not flagging, I won’t mind him sagging

So long as it’s not where it matters.

But having said that, on reflection,

A young stud sounds much more appealing.

And if he’s too fast, and can’t make it last,

I’ll cry out “Now once more with feeling”.

When I was younger I worried,

About morals too numerous to mention.

Someone who’s older can be so much bolder,

And stuff all that pointless convention.

My creative streak has run riot,

There are no longer rules to the game.

I can play how I like and become an old bike,

Who cares if I get a bad name.

When I was young I was pretty,

I had men lined up in a queue.

But I sent them away, too frightened to play,

Sex was something that ‘nice’ girls don’t do.

Then later on I got married,

And sex was a matter of course.

Once it was duty it lost all it’s beauty,

To regain it I filed for divorce.

But sexual power is fleeting,

Before you know it, it’s lost.

Who wants to be naughty with frumpy at 40?

I’m now finding out to my cost.

I’m left with a bit of a problem,

Now I’m ready, geared up for the kill.

Outside of the blind, it’s so hard to find,

At my age, a lover who WILL.

To any young woman who’ll listen,

I’d say without shadow of doubt.

Have fun and rejoice in your freedom of choice,

Or else you might find you’ve missed out.

By – Stephanie Harness

Funny Poems – The Last Hoorah

The Last Hoorah

(Funny Poems)

When I was young and in the dawn,

I rose to put my trousers on

For some adventurous new day

Of shining sun and making hay,

There was no sense of deja vu,

No fears possessed me in the loo,

And when I shaved my stripling chin

I found it hard to check a grin.

Handsome and brave, devoid of cares,

I’d race to breakfast down the stairs.

Now I have drained that youthful cup,

It takes me ages to get up

And first among the day’s adventures

Is finding where I put my dentures.

The bathroom mirror’s ruthless light

Suggests I passed away last night

And at the door the postman knocks

With mail that’s full of evil shocks

While by my plate a heap of pills

Bears witness to a dozen ills.

One simple pleasure does remain

I’ll go and change my will again.

By – Joe Pamanian

 

Funny Poems – Beach Pic

Beach Pic

(Funny Poems)

Take my picture as I stand

Posing proudly on the sand,

My cornetto in my hand.

Towel concealing all that’s floppy,

Smile controlled and not too soppy,

Everyone will want a copy.

Print comes later in the week.

God, who is this aged freak?

Tear it up. No, do not speak!

By – Joe Pamanian