Archives for posts with tag: humorous poems

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THE DOUBTFUL GUEST
by Edward Gorey

When they answered the bell on that wild winter night,
There was no one expected – and no one in sight.
Then they saw something standing on top of an urn,
Whose peculiar appearance gave them quite a turn.
All at once it leapt down and ran into the hall,
Where it chose to remain with its nose to the wall.
It was seemingly deaf to whatever they said,
So at last they stopped screaming, and went off to bed.
It joined them at breakfast and presently ate
All the syrup and toast, and a part of a plate.
It wrenched off the horn from the new gramophone,
And could not be persuaded to leave it alone.
It betrayed a great liking for peering up flues,
And for peeling the soles of its white canvas shoes.
At times it would tear out whole chapters from books,
Or put roomfuls of pictures askew on their hooks.
Every Sunday it brooded and lay on the floor,
Inconveniently close to the drawing-room door.
Now and then it would vanish for hours from the scene,
But, alas, be discovered inside a tureen.
It was subject to fits of bewildering wrath,
During which it would hide all the towels from the bath.
In the night through the house it would aimlessly creep,
In spite of the fact of its being asleep.
It would carry off objects of which it grew fond,
And protect them by dropping them into the pond.
It came seventeen years ago – and to this day
It has shown no intention of going away.

© words and images by Edward Gorey 1957, 1985.

Find The Doubtful Guest by Edward Gorey at Amazon.com.

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CALL THE PLEASE (Excerpt)
poem and drawing by Shel Silverstein

The Police Department
Changed their garments
And became the Please Department
And instead of clubs and cuffs,
Saying Please was quite enough.
“Please stop breaking down that door.”
“Please stop robbing that jewelry store.”
“Please stop stealing that motor scooter.”
“Please stop shooting off that gun.”
“Please stop forging checks for fun.”
“Please stop ripping off those tires.”
“Please stop setting things on fire.”
And if they needed more persuasion,
They took ’em down to the Please Station
Where the friendly Chief of Please
Said Please, Please, Please
On bended knees.
And they stopped all crime with ease
By politely saying “Please.”

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Editor’s Note: Then again, some people just don’t understand the word “please.”

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EVERYTHING ON IT

Poem and Drawing by Shel Silverstein

I asked for a hot dog

With everything on it,

And that was my big mistake,

‘Cause it came with a parrot,

A bee in a bonnet,

A wristwatch, a wrench, and a rake.

It came with a goldfish,

A flag, and a fiddle,

A frog, and a front porch swing,

And a mouse in a mask —

That’s the last time I ask

For a hog dog with everything. 

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THE OAK AND THE ROSE 

by Shel Silverstein

An oak tree and a rosebush grew, 
Young and green together, 
Talking the talk of growing things —
Wind and water and weather. 
And while the rosebush sweetly bloomed 
The oak tree grew so high 
That now it spoke of newer things —
Eagles, mountain peaks and sky. 
“I guess you think you’re pretty great,”
The rose was heard to cry, 
Screaming as loud as it possibly could 
To the treetop in the sky. 
“And now you have no time for flower talk, 
Now that you’ve grown so tall.” 
“It’s not so much that I’ve grown,”  said the tree, 
“It’s just that you’ve stayed so small.”

Painting: “Two Gibbons in an Oak Tree” by Yi Yuanji (1000-1064)

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THE DOUBTFUL GUEST

by Edward Gorey

When they answered the bell on that wild winter night,

There was no one expected – and no one in sight.

Then they saw something standing on top of an urn,

Whose peculiar appearance gave them quite a turn.

All at once it leapt down and ran into the hall,

Where it chose to remain with its nose to the wall.

It was seemingly deaf to whatever they said,

So at last they stopped screaming, and went off to bed.

It joined them at breakfast and presently ate

All the syrup and toast, and a part of a plate.

It wrenched off the horn from the new gramophone,

And could not be persuaded to leave it alone.

It betrayed a great liking for peering up flues,

And for peeling the soles of its white canvas shoes.

At times it would tear out whole chapters from books,

Or put roomfuls of pictures askew on their hooks.

Every Sunday it brooded and lay on the floor,

Inconveniently close to the drawing-room door.

Now and then it would vanish for hours from the scene,

But, alas, be discovered inside a tureen.

It was subject to fits of bewildering wrath,

During which it would hide all the towels from the bath.

In the night through the house it would aimlessly creep,

In spite of the fact of its being asleep.

It would carry off objects of which it grew fond,

And protect them by dropping them into the pond.

It came seventeen years ago – and to this day

It has shown no intention of going away.

© Edward Gorey 1957, 1985.