JULY P.E.O.D. MEMOIR CHAPBOOK CHALLENGE – JULY 1: LAUGH, LAUGH

We find humor in the strangest places. And what makes me laugh may be different from what amuses you! It is true that laughter is the best medicine, so for whatever ails you, dose us up with a good guffaw! Tell us what makes you laugh and make sure it’s in the form of a poem!

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158 thoughts on “JULY P.E.O.D. MEMOIR CHAPBOOK CHALLENGE – JULY 1: LAUGH, LAUGH

  1. A PYTHON KREWE, by Walter J Wojtanik

    A small band of Brits what writ
    a cavalcade of skits and silly things,
    sometimes men dressed as ladies in frilly things
    doing silly walks round the ministry.
    Giant cartoon feet stepping to flatten
    bystanders as they meander aimlessly,
    shamelessly exposing their naughty parts,
    dressed as lumberjacks and tossing Spam
    at the troupe of Vikings wailing, no sailing
    today for the Camembert is a bit runny.
    Saying funny things to all named Bruce.
    (We’re all named Bruce!) Marching
    down the thoroughfare with galloping coconuts
    at the ready and a steady chant of “Ni, Ni, Ni”!
    Dead ex-parrots pining for the fiord!
    Bringing disorder to the French Quarter
    (nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition)
    as the locals taunt them a second time.
    Searching for the Grail without fail,
    silly twits, a band of Brits! Run Away!
    They don’t really like Spam! Spam! Spam! Spam!
    …And now for something completely different!

  2. THE WIND CHANGED ON SUNDAY

    I remember Sundays as sin-free.
    I’d put on my best dress.
    My best shiny black shoes.
    A bit of small change in my pocket
    for the offering plate.

    After church, a drive in the car
    was the family tradition.
    Out into the countryside.
    Dad would say, “Ah, smell that.
    I love the smell of cow.”

    And I’d gag in the backseat,
    and my sister would pinch her nose.
    Not sure where Dad’s love of cow
    came from. He was a city boy.

    But he’d laugh a riot, as Mom
    looked out the car window unfazed.
    My Sundays are quieter nowadays.
    Certainly less fragrant. A newspaper,
    a cup of tea, and my favourite chair.

  3. Twisted, Dangled Words

    Kids say the funniest things
    navigating words.
    From questions asked –
    Do chickens have wing pits?
    Do fish brush their teeth?

    They label items with logic
    that defies adult minds –
    Hands wear mittens, right?
    So, slippers are foot mittens
    and a thimble is a thumb mitten, of course!

    Pronunciation is another thing
    causing many a giggle.
    “Accuse me, peas.”
    makes me grin, while
    “spabetty and meatgalls”
    causes belly laughs galore!

    But, best of all are three little words,
    said with utter sincerity –
    my moniker –
    all the punctuation needed.
    How blessed I am to hear
    “I wub you, Nana!”

  4. Giggle Goaders

    Frazier, Moonstruck, Princess Bride,
    Cousins on my father’s side,
    Husband’s laugh that fills the house,
    (“What’s that roar?!” “That’s just my spouse.”),
    White folks dancing (should be crimes!),
    Silverstein’s and Nesbitt’s rhymes,
    English Bulldogs, a good pun,
    Babies’ giggles … guess I’m done.

    © Marie Elena Good, 2019

  5. SHOULDDA KEPT THE OLD ONES

    Snickery, snickery schlock,
    I bought a new car and a clock;
    the clock measures pauses
    but the bloomin’ car causes
    stickery, stickery shock.

  6. MAKE ME LAUGH, by Walter J Wojtanik

    I could use a good laugh,
    the medicine that’s right
    for all that ails me.
    A good laugh never fails me.

    So what is funny becomes subjective
    and a good belly roar is the objective
    for one whose humor is quite twisted,
    There’s not a lot that I have missed.

    Back in the day, a seltzer bottle
    was the best comedic model,
    a pie in the face had its place,
    and Who was the guy that was on first base.

    But, a split fingered poke is not my joke,
    and slapstick would not be my first pick.
    Now my funny bone is discriminate,
    and it adjusts itself minute-by-minute.

    A well-worded joke that is cerebral
    will hold great sway in my joy cathedral.
    Laugh, they say, and the world laughs with you.
    So I laugh, and I’ve found it’s quite outrageous,

    it seems that laughter is truly contagious.
    Yet hearing the joy in my granddaughter’s coo,
    brings out the best bit of laughter too!
    It makes her smile and I know she gets it.
    So make me laugh and I’ll fuel the world.

  7. “That’s a joke, I say that’s a joke son”

    In middle school talent show
    a group came on the stage
    sang a song about a cowboy
    who walked in parenthesis.
    I laughed so hard at the thought
    that everyone laughed at me.

    I love to sit and reminisce
    with family over memories
    laughing till we snort and cry
    there is always much hilarity
    as we differ and debate
    each point of view’s variety.

    And, I especially love a pun
    the “Oh no you didn’t
    just say that” groan
    it will always bring a grin
    and Norm Crosby’s malaprops
    always waggle my chin.

    Title by Foghorn Leghorn

  8. Old Guy

    Insurance adjusters
    with nothing to do,
    with no real idea,
    nor even a clue,
    have concluded the 70’s
    are the age for most men,
    that time of their lives,
    that moment when,
    they enter their harrumph phase,
    the one after farts.
    It really isn’t true,
    at least not on my part,
    recalling, as I survive,
    that I entered my
    cootage at age sixty-five,
    became and old codger
    with a five-year head start.

  9. .
    .
    .
    Old Guy

    Insurance adjusters
    with nothing to do,
    with no real idea,
    nor even a clue,
    have concluded the 70’s
    are the age for most men,
    that time of their lives,
    those moments when,
    they enter their harrumph phase,
    the one after farts,
    but it isn’t really true,
    at least not on my part,
    recalling, as I survive,
    at seventy-five,
    that I entered my
    cootage at age sixty-five,
    became and old codger
    with a five-year head start.

  10. My laughter’s nothing lady-like
    No giggle or a snicker
    The sounds it makes spread far and wide
    A bellow, not a whimper
    Most people say they like my smile
    It brings a hint of dimple
    But let me break out with a laugh
    They join in laughing with me
    And laughter shared does far more good
    Than platitudes and posers

  11. It Wasn’t Me

    We never knew who started it.
    Someone would giggle – I blamed
    my sister, she blamed me.
    We laughed out loud (not to be
    confused with LOL) until our cheeks hurt.
    Before too long my mother would
    stop trying to hold it in and laugh
    along with us. Just when we were
    gaining control, someone would
    snort and we’d all laugh harder (there
    was no ROFL) gasping-for-breath, red-faced,
    clutching-our-sides, tears-running-down-our-
    faces, laughing. I blamed my sister,
    she blamed me. We never knew who started it.

  12. Surprise!

    Laughter is always a surprise;
    Its origin I cannot surmise.

    I cannot tell when it will come.
    I don’t know. I guess I’m dumb.

    Laughter simply sneaks up on me.
    Soon I shake and snort with glee.

    Don’t ask me to explain it more
    or I will kick you out the door.

    Sheryl Kay Oder

  13. What Makes Me Laugh

    What makes me laugh? I have to think.
    Sometimes it’s something out of sync.
    Or like an imp, sneaks up on you,
    surprise will make me laugh on cue.
    A funny thought a twist of words,
    I like to laugh at the absurd.
    Or slap stick act in unplanned way,
    a fall, a trip—awkward ballet.
    Sometimes I giggle all alone
    and friends will wonder what I’ve done.
    At times when life will go awry
    I find the funny, so I won’t cry.

  14. .
    .
    .
    .
    Grampy Earl and the Squirrel

    My Grandpa was a manly man
    As serious as could be
    Oh he would laugh from time to time
    But just with the family
    I never saw him dance but once
    That dance I’ll not forget
    It happened one sunny afternoon
    When that squirrel and Grandpa met

    While walking through the yard one day
    With Gram, my brother and me
    Something caught my Grandpa’s eye
    Now just what could that be?
    When from the grass up popped a squirrel
    A frightened little thing
    I disappeared up Grandpa’s pants
    And made my Grandpa sing

    Grandpa danced a whole new jig
    The squirrel went round and round
    We could see the varmint’s path
    It went up and then came down
    Grandpa shook his leg with force
    The squirrel fell out and ran
    We couldn’t believe that bitty tree rat
    Could defeat this manly man

    Grandpa worked to catch his breath
    While Grandma fought a smile
    Then Grandpa snickered just a bit
    We all laughed for quite a while
    In a tree just yards away
    There sat the flustered squirrel
    I wonder if it told his kids
    About his time with Grampy Earl

  15. I laughed so hard when I read Earl’s poem. It reminded me of something my granddaddy did years ago. The incident was funny, but the poem is not nearly as funny as Earl’s poem.

    Arousing Suspicion

    Granddaddy walked and drove too fast.
    One day a policeman he passed.

    That would not have been so bad
    except for the bag that he had.

    He carried it wrapped up tight
    and ran with all of his might.

    He threw that bag into the car;
    Mr. Suspicious would not drive far.

    The policeman’s shout made him jolt.
    “Sir, I will not let you bolt

    anywhere with your prize.
    Your crime you cannot disguise.”

    Granddaddy was then befuddled.
    That officer’s brain must be muddled.

    “Sir, what crime did I commit,
    which has you in such a fit?”

    “I saw you sprint from that house.
    You are a thief, you louse.

    What booty have you bagged
    and from that dwelling dragged?”

    Being honest, as was his habit,
    he said, “It’s only rabbits.”

    “Get out of your car this minute,
    I must see that bag and within it.”

    So, shaking his head at this stop,
    he hoped no bunnies would hop

    as he showed that suspicious man
    the rabbits with which he ran.

    That officer had no retort.
    I would love to see his report.

    Sheryl Kay Oder

  16. I wrote this one awhile ago, don’t think I ever shared it here . . and since it’s definitelly on point I’ll post it here

    FOR THE HUMOR-CHALLENGED

    Let’s go on a hunt for laughter.
    Seldom heard beneath my rafters
    Funny pictures, favorite shows
    Trigger giggles ‘til on they flow
    Humor oft depends on casters
    Let’s go on a hunt for laughter

    Let’s go on a hunt for laughter
    Lowly puns make me seem dafter
    Play knock knock, do some something funny
    Silly faces make like bunnies
    Slap stick comedy is faster
    Let’s go on a hunt for laughter.

    Let’s go on a hunt for laughter
    Don’t tell jokes that men lust after
    We can laugh at more than privates
    Try a diet or those pirates
    Clean cut comics are the masters
    Let’s go on a hunt for laughter.
    .

  17. Sorry I’m late! Also apologies if you have to Google some of the Aussie references.

    WHAT MAKES ME LAUGH?

    My funnybone gets ticklish
    at the ridiculous,
    plus anything quirky
    (and that’s no malarkey).

    A shaggy dog story
    also does it for me.
    But slapstick or farce –
    sorry, I’ll pass.

    Adore Rowan Atkinson,
    loathe Mr Bean;
    I prefer the badder
    wit of Blackadder.

    Love me a Goon,
    also a Python.
    I relish the movies of PJ Hogan,
    while Kath and Kim are wickedly Bogan.

    The amazing Chris Lilley
    is brilliant, not silly.
    But the absolute kingpin
    is Mr Tim Minchin.

    See, it’s the satirical
    gets me hysterical!

  18. Mallomar Mania

    Ever eat a Mallomar? A mound,
    round like a hat, covered in
    thin chocolate with a bottom
    layer of graham cracker, topped
    off with marshmallow. My Dad
    loved them, pinched them while
    they were still in the box
    to make sure they cracked. Meant
    they were fresh. Mom frowned
    upon this practice. One year
    for Dad’s birthday, my sister
    handed him a plain brown paper
    package. When he unveiled
    the surprise, he giggled like
    a little boy, stunned to see
    boxes and boxes of Mallomars
    inside. Watching his expression,
    we all laughed. Still do each time
    we look at the photo.

  19. Again my friend walked into the sliding glass door
    turned to correct me as my laughter roared.
    And when she respectably told me I kept the window too clean,
    my laughter roiled, and boiled, and seemed to her so mean

    But the truth to be told,
    she was too distracted to see,
    the glass was covered with stickers galore
    to keep her from running again into that door.

  20. SO late, and trying to catch up. Poem-every-other-day will be a challenge, but I need a challenge right now.

    Laughing Matters

    I laugh
    at that man
    in the mirror
    on the bathroom wall

    who writes
    thinking he
    must have some form
    to write a poem in

    when all
    the while his
    thoughts alone are
    but a certain form

    themselves.

    And stanzas
    take their arms up,
    brandishing syllables,
    shouting brazen brave hurrahs
    in rebellion for the cause
    of any simple thought’s
    rare freedom.

    © Damon Dean, 2019
    PEOD Memoir #1

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