Humour Contest

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By PoetryPlease   |   Watch
3 6 935 (1 Today)
Published: July 14, 2008
Contest Winner

Congratulations to the winner of the Humo(u)r Contest: *meljoy68. Her entry #6: Surreal Meal was both funny and displayed quality writing. Good job!

We would also like to give an honourable mention to ~TimeFlies whose entry #2: Untitled had almost as many votes. It was tight!

*meljoy68 wins our respectable prizes (as well as free promotion here at PoetryPlease):

1 month sub donated by ~thecoolbeane
A journal feature donated by *PunknEra
A journal feature donated by =vgaer

Thank you to everyone who entered. We enjoyed reading your submissions! Here are a reminder of the Top 10 entries, and now we reveal the authors:

TOP 10 POEMS (still in their original order, not based on # of votes)

1) Untitled by ~El-Pudding

My cat walks up and down the street
as if she smoked some weed

She parades around the whole city
as if she were so pretty

Shadows of tomcats follow her life
lead by the desire for a wife

Eating the best of the very best
leaving the rest for the very rest,

She is the nightmare of the mice
and her ego keeps away the lice

Once grasped by a car
she now hides in shame for her scar

2) Untitled by ~TimeFlies

caterpillar becomes
a bird's food

3) Untitled by ~ByMeBeHappy

'Twas dark, 'twas dark
I heard a thief in my orchard
'Twas late, 'twas late
I couldn't see an inch before my face
'Caught ya!', my, he wasn't that smart
You see, it's just that I heard him fart

4)The Blacksmith and the Firebug by ~mitnerd36

Listen now to flabbiness,
This restless umber poem,
It’s snambity with coloring,
Is something I will show ‘em.
For though the mouth doth gargle shit,
It drank it from a mug,
Terrafitty and xenophobes,
Precariously chug,
And hear the purple tale of,
Blacksmith and Firebug.

The Blacksmith and the Firebug,
Went strolling through the grass,
‘Till Blacksmith jorgithumbed and slipped,
And fell upon his ass.
“D’you reffinate,” said Firebug,
“That grass gets all it needs?”
“In winter,” said the Blacksmith, then
Began to eat the reeds,
While Firebug fniped his squirt,
And sang among the seeds.

Hurling quickly through the air,
Frebbed a speedy sphere.
“What the fuck was that?” they yelled,
Their genomes full of fear.
A boy praleeb’d along the grass,
Yet hrish, they did not yield,
‘Till he turned and cried “hey you!
“Get off the goddamn field!”
The contest wasn’t smithysquirt, that
Such tcheracks could wield.

“Good grass!” the Blacksmith tiffipated,
“Just what does he mean?”
“Know not” said ulped Firebug,
Squirting at the green.
The chalky weirs did stand about,
Where pribbergaqs had trod,
“ink,” Remarked the Blacksmith,
Gnawing at some sod.
Shaking did the crouchers crunch,
Cyagophing the rod.

“Whack’s the what?” marked Firebug.
Woody whanged the din.
“Bats,” said Blacksmith, and they laughed,
Until their teeth fell in.
Ballish bouncies cross the tip,
“Whock-whock” cried the boys,
“Don’t vreemateig” said Firebug,
“What messings they enjoys.”
“Let them” bleubiforped the Blacksmith,
“Tay with all their ploys.”

Dregifoidelly did he,
With pains along his roof,
From batty buntings sprint away,
His foot tips held aloof.
“Dar he” pruig’d Firebug,
Big toes all in the blue,
While wrinkled clouds and seedy slaps,
Yureeped across her view.
With ragged sword and scarfy eyes,
And dog shit on her shoe.

The crowded mounds and runny bags,
Did footed whackings save,
While to angry multitudes,
Black uniforms did wave.
With smithy’d legs did Firebug,
And Blacksmith lie up tall,
With edges danced and face on grass,
Their balls against the wall,
“Drippy!” cried the Firebug,
While Blacksmith took the fall.

Tenaciously did Firebug,
For airing in his arse,
Readily deceive his hairs,
Glemaidalling the farce.
Blacksmith ran his hammer up,
Blue green and chartreuse fell,
Till Firebug did frilzt his guilt,
With colors that would tell,
‘Till Journalism finded them,
And Journ said “what the hell?”

“In the dark and stormy morn,
Of mild and xukking night,
In graveyard blue of purple life,
Dead boys rose up to fight.”
The Journalists did talk to them,
Blacksmith said, “who’s plow?”
When peeped their names the Blacksmith said,!
“I call you alls ‘Jem’ now!”
Firebug did not object,
Buwhontilling his chow.

Dill and dike did under go,
All burping whitish of the way,
To Bug and Blackie’s ken.
While dinner fixed on table ground,
Of knife and stick with elf,
Buttergreen and catching ups,
With flappers on the shelf.
Jem asked “what food?” and Blacksmith said,
“The food it be yourself.”

The laughing Jem and burping flame,
With orange drowsy nest,
So happily they all rejoiced,
Blackie did just jest.
Firebug did fry for wood,
And typos did forget,
With quuzpy happy oxy-blue,
Tripped finger for the net,
And whooshing did the Jem all jump,
For they had gotten wet.

They boys and Jem did stew of shake,
And omelette of tick,
The purpled grass and chalk recross,
While reeds their points did lick.
Stampeding zweepas under mean,
And overmine with rage,
While boards of dirt and weirs of wood,
Were flooring of the cage,
Blacksmith and the Firebug,
Had often humped this stage.

Piped and pied and clarinet,
With tent a culls of black,
The dining hill and vomit weir,
Did froth about the shack.
The Blacksmith with his toothy fish,
With teed old cranium,
Of swinger in the daytime hut,
And young Meganium,
With melons on a fairy fare,
Xerbifeng longer bum.

And fires in a lemon form,
With blooming mushroom cake,
The tail and cleaver snorkeling,
Through acorns at the quake.
With rigid sharkie round the branch,
And twitchy savers fed,
The Firebug forgot his hat,
All blue and green of bed,
“Jem he flexes, but no reed,”
This the Blacksmith said.

With frivolous propinquity,
Did run their syphilis,
With fingers at the sunny day,
And streaming frozen piss.
Firebug and Blacksmith lolled,
Said Blacksmith, “How’s dear Jem?”
Firebug who gargled sharp,
Said “dead there at the hem.”
Blacksmith had no big surprise:
He’d murdered all of them.

Now reddened page of reading read,
With brains all down the tube,
And though the greenies did not barf,
They deftly popped a pube.
With Jee-man on the beery bong,
All screeching pink at Merrill,
You read zwerp all this nonsense,
At your own damn peril.
Hope you liked my ripping of,
Of dear old Lewis Carroll.

5) Untitled by ~Nimrod-Ellansee

Once upon a never,
In a mountain far astray,
Lived a Golly Wog named Wally
And his Handy Panda, Andy.

Wally was not a jolly dolly.
He burned things every day.
He smoked pot and he drank too much.
and lived on minimum wage.

Handy Andy was a Christian Dandy
Went to mass each day.
He said grace then wiped his mouth
And went to beat up gays.

The revolting reveler
And the reveling revolter
Chose the perfect time
Launched a revolution
And commandeered the wine.

They had gone to WalesLand
And marched up on the town
Of Llary-Llevy-Gribbly
(If pronounced phonetically).

They held the sheep to hostage.
But the Welsh Men didn't care.
They gave Wales over as soon as.
Success was ever theirs.

After Wales the pair got bored.
Of pillaging and hordes.
Wally became a community Golly
Wogging out the crimes

Andy moved to an animal sanctuary
Gave up being a Panda.
Instead became a handy lion
With his husband - Brian.

I do hope most sincerely
That you read this poem well.
Then ask yourselves the question…

“Why yet aren’t I in Hell?”

6) Surreal Meal by *meljoy68

An evening filled
with tossing and turning,
endlessly wriggling,
twitching and squirming,
bunching up bedsheets,
Restlessly thrashing,
Flinging the covers,
Pillows sent crashing…
A hunger pang starts-
a craving, a yearning-
relentlessly bubbling,
rolling and churning…
reaching for pleasure,
embracing temptation
a fullfilling sensation…
the morning finds
a feather that billows
from out of your mouth…
…you’ve eaten your pillow!

7. Untitled by ~eleaphotogirl

"X" marked the spot.
Until it was replaced by "why"?
Why bury a treasure?
When you're about to die?

8. Chop! by ~dragonrealm

My ex used tap his fingers on the table
Just like my LATE Aunt Mable
Since her accidental death, I had been feeling well, abit unstable
So when I told him to stop
And he did not
I got hold of the meat cleaver and gave his hand a great chop!

9. Untitled by ~S8AN666

My cat
Has a drug problem.
This is not a metaphor
For some friend or myself
No... My cat has a drug problem.
It started with the sour milk
He must have gotten it from one of the other cats
Or that damned dog
And from there it was down hill
Before long he was hanging out with a bad crowd
Down at the "Kit Cat Bar"
The all feline bar in the old barn on smith street
Then whole gallons of milk started disappearing
And some were found in obscure locations smelling foul
When I confronted him he hissed
"I don’t have a problem"
Bit my nose and scratched the hell out of my face

I tried to bring him to AA
But when you try to explain
That your only there to show support
For your cat and its apparent your serious
They kick you out faster than you can say
"The cat shat in my hat!"
On the way out he stole a carton from the fridge
That smelled as tho' it had been aging since last Christmas
And was bombed long before we got home
So like a good friend
I scooped him up and carried him the rest of the way
I even held his ears back while he puked
On that nice police officers shoes

After the sour milk
Came the Kat-Nip
And lots of it
Bales and bales of it
He even sold my T.V and stereo
The rehab people didn't believe me either
So he continues out of control
He became scarce after I tried to get him into rehab
I thought he might have left
To get a new start and get his life together
But shortly there after a bat stopped by
And said "The cats in the cradle with the silver spoon"
"And a pretty big lab"
At first I thought the bat was making some kind of Harry Chapin joke
But apparently bats hate Harry Chapin
Yet really like Pat Benatar
But I’m getting off topic

So following the bats cryptic little message
I tried to remember where there was a cradle
And there I found him
In the attic
In an old crib
He had a large bail of Kat-Nip
A huge pot boiling
Various house hold cleaners
And all sorts of strange tubes and vials
He had created the Kat-Nip equivalent
Of Coke, Crack and Meth
He called them
Nipcane, Crack Nipcane and Crystal Nip
And there he sat all dazed out
Spoon in one paw lighter in the other

I just don’t know what to do
I've lost control of my own house
Strange animals are coming in and out
At all hours
Yowling and playing obscene cat music’s
None of them will use the litter box
They're ruining the carpets
And my shoes
Yeah that’s a nasty surprise in the morning…
My house has become the gang headquarters
For the most vicious feline gang this side of Pet-Co
They call them selves the Tabbies
And they have guns
Which they know how to use
I tried to tell them that
But one of them fired and I ran
I'm not sure if he was trying to get me to leave
Or just missed on account of shooting without thumbs

I've decided the best thing to do
Is abandon ship
And call the Animal control
Yeah I'm that chicken shit
You go face a few hundred
Tweaked out cats with guns!

Hey.... it's ten o-clock do you know where your pets are?

10. Untitled by ~Hinatachan65

Hold me tight
And don’t let go
I am not ready for the world
Can’t I stay here your only young
Instead of leaving
You and Mum?

Why are you doing this to me?
I’m trying my hardest to please
You say you love me
But if you really do
Why are you making me go to SCHOOL?

The teachers are mean
The kids are nasty
And the principal will make you scream
How will I sleep tonight
Knowing tomorrow brings the fright?

Daddy I hate you!
Mommy you too!
I hate you for making me go to that place
Called School!

This ends all of TOP 10 entries. The information below is the original contest info.

Contest Theme

The goal of this contest is to write a HUMO(U)ROUS poem. There are no restrictions or guidelines on the poem style or length, it simply must be FUNNY! It can be HAHA funny, LOL funny, ROFL funny, sarcastic, cynical, ironic, or satirical. The bottom line is HUMO(U)R, got it?

Contest Rules

Yes, even a fun contest like this needs rules.

1) You can only submit one poem.
2) The poem cannot be submitted as a deviation. All submissions must be noted to PoetryPlease by the deadline with the poem pasted in the body and "Humo(u)r Contest" in the subject line.
3) This contest is open to both members and non-members of PoetryPlease, but only members will be eligible to vote in deciding the winners. Note: If you'd like to become a member, click here
4) Your entry must be a new poem, you cannot submit a poem that was written before the date this contest was announced.
5) Staff members of PoetryPlease are not eligible to enter the contest.
6) All entries are to remain anonymous until the winners are announced. Any breach of this rule will disqualify the associated poem.


All submissions must be received by 10:00 pm EST on June 22, 2008. Any poems received after this time will not be considered.


~PunknEra, *AngelofGod87, ~eagle-elf & ~cypher-neo.
© 2008 - 2019 PoetryPlease
This contest is complete and closed. Thank you to all who participated.
anonymous's avatar
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Loganism's avatar
LoganismHobbyist Traditional Artist
:D sweet I forgot about this... my DA handle is ~loganism now, was S8an666. and the untitled poem is called Cat Trouble now :D
PoetryPlease's avatar
Unfortunately, the entries remain as they were at the time of the contest. But it's good to know you kept working and developing that piece! :)
meljoy68's avatar
meljoy68Hobbyist General Artist
Wow!! Thank you very much! I'm flattered and very happy!!! :excited:
RedEarthofTerra's avatar
RedEarthofTerraHobbyist Writer
rugmanpuff's avatar
rugmanpuffHobbyist Writer
CONGRATS to *meljoy68 and ~TimeFlies
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