Did you hear the one about…

Stop me if you’ve heard this one…

Everyone loves or has heard a good joke or pun. Your mission this week is to draw on your sense of humor – use a punchline from your favorite joke as your inspiration, and then write that poem.

It could be something funny a friend or sibling or parent says that makes you smile. Whatever brings joy to your heart is fair game.

“These two guys walk into a poem…”


I Don’t Get It.

My dad used to say (as he’d smirk with delight)
“Don’t tell her a joke on a Saturday night –
Or you’ll be the cause of her serious gaffe when
Sunday in church, she is bustin’ up laughin’!”
 © Copyright Marie Elena Good – 2013



Acting brothers
standing tall,
to fill a part
that was not small.
They came as two
to the casting call,
but if you’ve seen Juan,
you’ve seen Amal.”

© Copyright Walter J. Wojtanik – 2013

222 thoughts on “NOW, THAT’S FUNNY – PROMPT #106

  1. Good prompt, Walt and Marie, though I can’t guarantee that I can fill these shoes as you’ve put forth such heavy-soled poems to fill this bill already. 🙂

      • So far I’ve thought of nothing, but my poetic brain cells are till fried from April. We’ll see. I’ll never be able to match Kate, though. My brain just doesn’t think that way on a regular basis.

        • Oh, dear! I can’t be funny by setting out to be funny; it just happens, sometimes… and I NEVER remember jokes. Ever. But I will try… and Marie and Walt, yours are a hoot. Two hoots, rather.

          • Walt, I love that joke. Reminds me of one we’re bound to see on this prompt about the short immigrant named Jose who thinks they’re singing the Star-Spangled Banner just for him.

            Marie, yours is straight out of the family, and we three girls were just the same. The choir director’s daughters, guaranteed to start giggling up in the balcony! Nice start, you two! Amy


    Be I in Paris or Biloxi
    I simply have to have my Moxie,
    for I am not your average bloke
    who likes to sip insipid Coke,
    neither for me the beer and liquor
    to make my senses sicker quicker.
    That’s why I’m always looking for
    those ancient labels in every store,
    so please forgive this oxymoron,
    but I am just a Moxiemoron.

    copyright 2013, William Preston

  3. “The Flat-Foot”

    My life does fill me with surprise”, say John.
    My mission to check out a house, dead-on”.
    Cops tell a story with a knowing look;
    they love the punchline and they know their hook.

    “A young and chipper guy, I’m gung-ho, too.
    With trusty flashlight, bravery is due.”
    His entry made to sinister, dark home.
    Reports to station corpse is lying prone.

    He steps beyond the corpse to enter room.
    He lifts one leg to step into the gloom.
    But now he feels upon that leg an arm
    And quickly does his pumping heart alarm!

    The corpse, alive, most helpful for his joke
    As,grinning, John explains what this evokes.

    (My husband, John, cop for many years, had a million favorite stories about his police work. This was just one of them.)

  4. Sometimes – well often, in life when we don’t do what we know we should, things can go a little haywire. This is an older piece of work (fictional) but inspired by a totally unrelated “eventful” day.

    Sunday Sermon

    By David De Jong

    Woke early that Sunday morn,
    Spring had sprung, the air was warm.

    Made up my mind quick, thought He would approve too,
    Gonna fetch my gear, skip church, catch a fish or two.

    Got out the bread, lettuce, bologna and spice,
    Pret near cut off my finger; very first slice.

    Bandaged the wound, cleaned up the mess,
    Wasn’t anythin’ gonna stop me, I must confess.

    Got the coffee brewin’, hot water in the thermos, lettin’ it set,
    When I went to pour, I knocked it over, makin’ my sandwiches sloppy and all wet.

    At that, I gave up on lunch, and thinkin’ me to be smart,
    I’d just stop and pick somethin’ up, at the local quick mart.

    Opened the door, to my faithful old truck,
    When I got in; I forgot to duck.

    Got whacked on the head, by the top of the door,
    All I could do was see stars, and hit the floor.

    When I came to, wasn’t much wait,
    But my head and finger were in a sorry state.

    I managed to crawl in, buckle up and turn the key,
    When I threw her in gear; I slammed my knee.

    By now, tears are startin’ to form, and wet my face,
    Thinkin’ the congregation probably be singin’ Amazing Grace.

    It’d been a long winter, and I was tired of the frozen take,
    Plus I heard from family folk – “Pike is chompin’ at the lake”.

    Finally made it, to the music of the lappin’ shore,
    Not a prettier sight – no that’s fer sure.

    Fixed up my rig, and gave her a cast,
    Halleluiah! – My line was wet, wet at last.

    Cranked it back, slow and shifty, to lure one in,
    Hopin’ no-one that knew me, would see the state I was in.

    First cast, I hooked a big’ne, and would see him surface soon,
    All I caught; some dead, half rotten, smelly raccoon.

    It stank, so rank, and I gasped in a huff,
    Couldn’t get that line cut, soon enough!

    Startin’ to figure this maybe ain’t all by chance,
    Bein’ stubborn and ignorant, I took my stance.

    Moved down the shore, up-wind a bit,
    Found a rock, just right, easy to sit.

    Fixed my eye on the water’s gleam,
    Gave an enormous cast; made that reel scream!

    There was line in the lake, line on the ground,
    It all left the reel, none left to be found.

    Not a worry, as any good fisherman would know,
    There’s always one or two spares, ready to go.

    Back to the truck, to fetch that spare rod-n-reel,
    Took one step, felt somethin’ poke, right in my heel.

    That lure been airborne, misslin’ all this time,
    Sank deep in my aquiles, pain shot up my spine.

    I acquiesced and let out a yell and a holler,
    My medical insurance sure to go up a few dollar.

    I grabbed what I could, and loaded the truck,
    I ain’t never before had this rough of luck.

    Key to the ignition, turned to start,
    Number three backfired, blew the head all apart.

    Now I’m wounded, bleeding, truck’s in a haze,
    Lo and behold someone’s a honkin’, givin’ a big wave.

    Cringe in my eye – It’s the pastor and his wife, drivin’ out for a visit,
    They stop, change their plans, drive me toward home, don’t just let me sit.

    All the ride home, I’m gettin’ faint , pain, is gettin’ worse,
    I keep ramblin’; “Take me to the doc, before I need the hearse!”

    Pastor just chuckled and said; “Glad we come along, could be of service to you”,
    “I’m makin’ bets; next Sunday you’ll be back in your usual pew”.

    I never had a sermon so clear, like that day,
    Trust me; never, ever again, will I stray.

    I swore, not a curse, but an oath, till the day I die,
    Won’t ever miss Sunday mornin’ service again – no reason why.


    This woman I knew from Cordoba
    Could charm the eyes of a cobra
    But that’s all in my past
    A snake bit her ass
    And now I try hard to stay sober



    Now I lay aside my sleep
    To set me down iambic feet
    About a long maligned invertebrate
    That people think is chic to hate.

    On summer days you’ll see it crawl
    In sidewalk cracks as raindrops fall;
    Smooth-bodied, slimy, wriggling bait
    Afraid to suffer fishhook fate.

    With all there is to write about,
    You wonder why I choose to tout
    This unsung hero, the lowly worm,
    And go so far as invent a poem

    About this ugly parasite.
    Are there not better things to write?
    I’m not as foolish as you might think.
    The day will come when on the blink

    I find myself as all selves must
    Buried on my way to dust,
    The good I did when once alive:
    This ode to worms will save my hide.

    Perhaps while I am lying there,
    Some crawling things will stop and stare.
    Perhaps the word will have traveled ’round
    That a worm’s best friend is underground.

    I’d like to lay me down to sleep
    And not be pestered six feet deep.
    One good deed deserves its turn:
    “Leave him be. He’s the man
    who wrote ‘An Ode to Worms!'”



    Who did the walking
    When the king
    Succumbed to rages?

    His yellow pages!



    They say she’s making progress everyday.
    The first time she was betrayed by a man
    she loved, she slashed her wrists.
    The second time it happened
    She slashed his.


  9. Pingback: Ready with Life | Metaphors and Smiles

    • I’m sorry to post and run…I’m bringing my six year old to a Birthday party this morning!!

      I did read Walt’s and Marie’s…knee slapping and side splitting indeed!! :)’s to ALL!

      Ready with Life

      Warmed by early spring sun-

      evoked by blue and cloud designs;

      we’re drawn to the outside

      after many gray winterish days.


      I don’t remember what it was I was talking about

      not the particulars of that passing thought

      but when I exclaimed “well, that’s weird!”

      I remember that it was sunny

      and I know that there were smiles,

      I recall that it was an adventure

      and that we were going to the playground.

      My six year old responded with,

      “yeah, that’s as weird as a chicken wearing SOCKS!!”

      “Now, THAT IS weird!!” I answered with a laugh.

      The giggles and glee that tailed there after brings me such happiness ;

      and the listing of other weird pairings that pursued is such a joyous memory.

      “That’s as weird as a bird wearing snowshoes!”

      “Weird as a butterfly wearing eyelashes!”

      “That’s as weird as a giraffe saying whoo-whoo!!”


      Fond memories found in simple yet complex conversations…

      I remember how the trees swayed with the wind

      and tight buds bobbed from the end of their branches;

      just waiting to burst forth,

      ready with life.

      Copyright © Hannah Gosselin

    • :D!! Ha, ha, ha… I Loved “… a butterfly wearing eyelashes…” 🙂 !!

  10. There once was a man from Shanghai
    Who married a witch on the fly.
    When he wanted to munch,
    he said, “Make me a lunch.”
    Now he’s bologna on rye.

  11. Pun’ku Time…

    Eye just saw this post:
    conjunctivitis dot com…
    a site for sore eyes

    No matter how hard
    you push the envelope, it’s
    still stationery.

    Classification ~
    backwards poets tend to write
    poetry inverse.

    A diet slogan:
    If you’re not dieting, you’re
    going the wrong weigh.

    Which president is
    the least guilty? Lincoln, ‘cause
    he is in a cent.


  12. I Wanna’ Get Weighed

    Why did the chicken cross the road?
    What’s that between the elephant’s toes?
    What’s that spot just below your chin?
    Oops! You fell for that one again

    How do you punish Helen Keller?
    Why don’t you ask that other fella’?
    Not really havin’ a funny day
    So take your jokes and go away

    But jokes and riddles are so much fun
    Why, oh why, would you have me run?
    I’m just tryin’ to give you a reason to smile
    So bear with me just a little while

    But I’ve heard them all over the years
    Most of them bore me to tears
    So many recycled or changed just a bit
    The funny is gone; no more humor or wit

    What about the one about Little Johnny?
    He wanted to impress this pretty little honey
    He took her to the fair on Friday night
    Had lots of fun, everything was going right

    Pretty honey said that she wanted to get weighed
    Took her to the guesser, two dollars he would pay
    Again and again she repeated the request
    Again and again he had her weight guessed

    Little Johnny got bored, and it was getting late
    So he took her back home and ended the date
    When her mama asked if she had fun at the fair
    She said, “I had a weawwy wotten time there.”

    PS: You’ll get it after a while.

  13. The Space Meeting

    It was a meeting of the minds
    Each one completely able
    A Russian, an American
    And a Frenchman at the table
    To talk about their passion
    The exploration of space
    Each one would tell the other
    Of their impending space race

    The Russian started off with
    “We’re going to Jupiter’s moon!
    We’ll have a human colony
    Established very soon.”
    The others were impressed
    With Russia’s confidence
    But secretly skeptical of
    Its overall importance

    The American started speaking
    “We’ve harnessed Saturn’s rings!
    We already had a probe there
    Analyzing everything!
    We’ll harness the rings’ powers
    And build a docking station
    To use for all ships going
    On deep space exploration.”

    The Frenchman broke his silence
    “We have just begun!”
    He blurted out their plans
    “We’re going to the sun!!”
    The Russian and American said
    “You’ll burn up in mid-flight!!”
    The Frenchman had an answer
    “We’re going to go at night!”

  14. A double dactyl:

    Flibberty gibbetty,
    Was Sigmund Freud the key?
    Did all his talk really
    Raise up the bar?

    Quoth that odd daddy of
    Sometimes a stogie
    Is just a cigar.

  15. We Washed the Cat

    By David De Jong

    We washed the family cat today
    Pretty sure it’s become a stray
    Followed directions as presented
    The bathroom walls now are vented

    He didn’t much care for the whirring sound
    While the flushes took him round and round
    We added soap, the prescribed amount
    After a few spin flushes, we lost count

    He blew bubbles at both ends as he made his escape
    I swear the way he flew, he was wearing a cape
    As he clawed his way through the bathroom wall
    Thought it might be prudent give 9-1-1 a call

    They laughed and made my situation a joke
    They sneered and called me one ignorant bloke
    As they pointed to the directions hung by a pin
    Make sure you always keep the bathroom door wide-open

    Last we heard, some folks down the road seen a cat in a huff
    Looked like a crazy, enormous, four-leg’ed, powder puff
    The family dog on the other hand, enjoyed the show so much
    Everyday he brings me a different cat, covered in mud and such

    P.S. Just to make sure – would in no way actually attempt this. We have various; happy, well cared for, critters – wild and domestic – in our home and on our property.

  16. Wedding Customs

    Uncle Spoonerism arrived as a guest
    at Janey’s wedding. An engraved request
    for his presence was tucked neatly in his hand
    as he foxtrotted to each and every song by the band.
    Janey’s dad was nervous, as dads often are
    regarding what some might find a wee bit bizarre,
    like a comment or two that Uncle might make at the fest.
    “Don’t worry, dear Daddy,” sweet Janey professed.
    Suddenly, during the dinner of roast,
    Uncle Spoonerism got up on his feet for a toast.
    During his speech, all was easy and bright.
    No weirdness. It all seemed to be …well… all right.
    But still. Dad maneuvered to Uncle Spoonerism’s side
    as the uncle inquired, “Is it kisstomary to cuss the bride?”


  17. Punch Line

    One benefit of long marriage:
    our economy of words.
    We’ve shared so many laughs
    together that now
    we need only speak
    the punch lines
    to explode into laughter:

    That dog’ll bite you!
    McGregor the wall builder. . .
    Why do you ask, two dogs. . . ?
    Ricky hold his own hand.
    That your boots? Thatcher boots?

    We speak in our own code,
    consider ourselves hilarious.
    The secret of long love lies
    between the ears,
    laughter as libido.

    • “The secret of long love lies between the ears, laughter as libido.” Yes! So true.
      Reminds me of a favorite quote by Joanne Woodward (Mrs. Paul Newman) “Sexiness wears thin after awhile and beauty fades, but to be married to a man who makes you laugh every day, ah, now that is a treat.”

      • 😀 !!!!! It’s a very special connection to be with someone who just “gets” you, and you “get” him… 🙂 !!

  18. True Love

    She said,
    “Should tingle
    Every nerve cell,
    Defy gravity
    As one’s heart soars on high.
    Love should transcend the mundane.
    Passion, Romance – never ending.
    Oh, darling, don’t you agree?” She sighed.
    “Yes, dear,” he said massaging her sore feet.

  19. Addiction

    Don’t care what you say
    simple or complex
    refined or uncouth
    I have to give in
    to this darn sweet tooth.

  20. Last one-I promise

    Love’s In the Air

    My nose is clogged,
    eyes are waterin,
    plant romance makes
    dratted pollen.

    • Really, the last. No more on this prompt (this one is one I did on Writers Digest April PAD)

      Lesson On Love

      You say you’ll love me unconditionally?
      I already have a dog.
      That you’ll wrap your love around me?
      Fleece blanket.
      That you’ll give me the sun and moon?
      Where would I store them?
      That you can’t live without me?
      You have till now and will.
      Your face falls, smile fails, a tear gleams in your eye,
      I’ve hurt you – I’m sorry, but it just isn’t wise… for me.
      I watch you walking slump shouldered to the car
      a pretty girl passes and smiles
      your head whips round and you say, “excuse me…”
      Class dismissed.

  21. He packed his own lunch.

    By the time he is on the pavement
    it is too late to ask why.

    Of course that is not the funny part.
    You’re missing the point.

    You can substitute the Italian for a Pole if you’d like.
    In one version there are both tacos and beans
    and so the races get a little hazy,
    which is why PB&J is best for the punch line.

    No, the race isn’t important. I’m just saying.

    Yes, there is much more to the story-
    the accumulation and inversion of all that negative energy,
    the challenges of communicating in a continuously diverse and evolving world,
    the steady mortgage and decline in company profit,
    the wife, the kid and all those appointments, and other vices,
    what is becoming of the government.

    None of that makes a good joke though.
    Best to hit the punch line way before that point
    and tell it from a more abstract point of view.
    See: the wife, after the fact.

    Have you noticed the wind is strongest when you have something to say,
    junk mail at its most frequent when you are awaiting something important?

    I keep putting off the book about Veronica deciding to end it all
    but failing at it, kind of.

    Yes, I know. Why did you let me get so far off topic?

    Anyway, the dude packs his own lunch
    but ends up a sidewalk sandwich anyway.
    That’s the joke.
    Unlike poems where the images are the concrete,
    the less imagery in this joke, the better.
    Even the slightest splat makes it tragic.

    Of course it’s more self reflection.
    What better to way to jump without, you know, jumping.


    It’s time for me
    to hop in the shower,
    he said.
    Please don’t,
    she said.
    It’s slippery.

    P. Wanken

  23. Pingback: Coming Clean | echoes from the silence

  24. Pingback: To the Manor Born | Sharp Little Pencil - Amy Barlow Liberatore

  25. Before we begin, you must pardon certain bits of “flavor” in today’s poem, for it was written to the theme of “incorporate the punchline of your favorite joke into a poem” for Poetic Bloomings (and you must remember I had a long career in theater and cabarets, so the humor was rather salty), but I also used some rather unsavory words from The Sunday Whirl, including “Spit,” “Pulsing,” and… well, you’ll see! Also at my favorite poetic salon, Poets United (going on three years of membership!).
    If you are faint of heart or faint over mild vulgarity, best you skip this one. (wink) And comment if you pick out the punchline! Amy

    To the Manor Born

    They number in the thousands,
    with up-front titles such as
    The Duke of Whodidwhatshire and
    Lady Fluffingsham, that sound like
    they pee chicken soup, their spit is
    a blessing, and their hearty red
    corpuscles could run pulsing into
    a petri dish and create a ruby.
    Dressing takes hours beyond count;
    their every text message is met by
    thunderous headlines in the
    Brrrrrritish tabloids. Oi!
    Said Lord Worthlessthan as he dined
    on braised pheasant and oysters during
    a recent champagne luncheon at Beltchington,
    “We call ourselves The Aristocrats…
    but really, we’re plain, humble folk.”

    © 2013 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil

  26. LOST TRAIN (Mono-rhyme)

    A book, I found last year, I bought.
    It promised that I could be taught.

    Avow, I would come out on top
    if I but concentrate a lot.

    I did not want to be a flop,
    but all my studies were for naught.

    I could not master what I sought,
    I kept losing my train of …..

  27. Bert

    “I’d rather have a bottle
    in front of me than a
    frontal lobotomy.” Cracking
    wise, bony fingers slapping
    bonier thighs, skinny ass
    hanging off ripped vinyl
    barstool, Bert is as pickled
    as the jar of eggs on the counter.
    ‘Last call,’ bartender yells.
    Bobbing Bert yells back,
    ‘I’m calling you a party
    pooper, that’s my last call.’
    Smacking his fist on a stained
    napkin, Bert cackles. ‘Hey,
    funny man,’ bartender says,
    ‘I am phoning your wife
    to come get you if you don’t
    settle this tab, and scram.’
    Bert’s stringy black-haired
    head hits the counter.
    Tears fall from Bert’s eyes,
    his skeletal frame shakes.

  28. Shaken Not Stirred

    By a Word Nerd

    Wrecked ’em?
    Damn near killed ’em
    spilled ’em
    across the blacktop
    they was sunny side up

    Butter cup flashing
    finish line crashing
    one more bump and he’s awake
    Ricky Bobby shake n’ bake
    his pelvis in Graceland

    Teenage Wasteland….

    real gangstas neva say a word
    no I said shaken’ not stirred
    Double Oh Seven eleven
    got gas cap flew off – mazel tov
    going too damn fast – jerk off

    Double clutch not enough
    to make dead man’s curve

  29. (I’m feeling joyful… these words came from a humorous website)

    “If Bill Gates had a penny for every time I had to reboot my computer… oh wait, he does.”

    Smile Thru the Pain

    Pictures disappear
    Never to be found again
    Patience… a virtue.

  30. “Why do people keep running over a string a dozen times with their vacuum cleaner, then reach down, pick it up, examine it, then put it back down to give their vacuum one more chance?”

    “The sole purpose of a child’s middle name,, is so he can tell when he’s really in trouble.”

    “My psychiatrist told me I was crazy and I said I want a second opinion. He said okay, you’re ugly too.”

    And, last but not least:

    “My shinbone is a device for finding furniture in a dark room.”

    ! 😀 Thanks, everyone, for the smiles and laughter!! 😀 !!

  31. Les Maladie de les Anglais.

    Mad dogs and Englishmen
    Go out in the midday sun
    An afternoon’s cricket and cream tea
    Is what they call good fun

    Their offbeat sense of humour
    Others find quite obscure
    And for their standoffishness
    There really is no cure

    But when it comes to madness
    The French surely must reign
    If you jumped off a bridge in Paris
    Why then, you’d be in Seine!


  32. Hi all!

    Out of town, and almost entirely unplugged. At a little library right now. Copied and pasted your poems into Word, and will do me a little fun reading tonight.

    Have fun!!
    Marie Elena

  33. Wow! Some fun poems here. 🙂 I think I will be skipping this prompt as comedy isn’t my thing, and I don’t think I could write something funny if I tried for a million years. Have fun, guys! I know you already are. 😉

  34. This memory just came back to me. 🙂

    Only Two Legs, Right?

    We bought a bag of frozen drumsticks;
    Dinner was cooking,
    Out came the bag;
    Little sister watched in awe
    As one by one they went into the pan,
    All twenty drumsticks.
    She turned to my mom
    In fascinated wonder,
    “So,” she lisped,
    “How many legs does this chicken have anyway?”

    © Copyright Erin Kay Hope – 2013

  35. A rispetto:

    Mary at La Tomatino

    We met by chance under the palo jabón,
    two American tourists lost in a sea
    of white apparel in a planned combat zone,
    armed only with swim goggles and bravery.
    For an hour we fought the battle of red,
    slinging tomato-bombs against chest or head
    until all wore clothing of crimson batik.
    She cried, “I’m a bloody Mary,” tongue-in-cheek.

  36. Sorry I’m late to the party again. Outpatient procedure=lost days. I’ll drop in a rispetto too, Linda, until I feel funny again.


    They sit all night with wine and fire
    remembering when they were young
    when girls and cars claimed their desire
    and their exploits had just begun.

    Now old men, humbled, they can smile
    at how life braked them mile on mile,
    for now they’d trade ladies and speed
    for a good old dog on a lengthy lead.

  37. I’ve had this happen a few times, when church talkers get louder with the music, so that when I stop, they are shouting. They always glower at me as if it’s my fault they’re shrieking in church. Not so. I’m just the musician behind the grin. 😉

    Joyful Noise

    I choose a prelude that is soft,
    a quiet building prayer oft
    as not, a piece suggesting calm
    to lead talkers to silent balm.

    But sometimes, as the music swells,
    a conversation will as well,
    and when I reach a denouement,
    the talkers’ shouts are contretemps.

  38. Knock Knock

    Knock! Knock! Who’s there?
    We spent hours repeating this phrase,
    Varying answers to exasperate elders,
    Now I am an elder and I answer myself.
    I knock on the door and ask who’s there?
    I just laugh at myself and come on in.

  39. The Boat and The Sea

    A wee small boat
    took to the sea
    it rocked and rolled and floated
    with exuberant glee,
    and the wee small boat
    said, “Adieu!” to the sea
    but sea could only wave.

  40. Pingback: The Boat and The Sea | Misky

  41. Do You Want to Hear a Dirty Joke?

    He asked her if she wanted to hear
    a dirty joke while sipping a beer.
    “Give it your best shot bud.”
    “A pig fell in the mud.”
    Cleanest dirty joke to cross my ear.

    • Ah, so! Wonderful, sneaky little piece. Reminds me of a very old Toonerville Trolley cartoon: a drunk asks a sober fellow if he’d join him in a little Christmas cheer. After the fellow says “yes,” the drunk says, “Yay, Christmas! Rah! Rah! Rah!:

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