Humorous and funny Sunday poems and/or funny poems about Sunday. Read, share, and enjoy these hilarious Sunday funny poems! Also, try our sister website's powerful search engine for poems or see our other Sunday Poems.
Yes, to have a month of Sundays, I think
that would be the solution to Monday.
To skip the rest of the week with a wink
and eliminate all problems today.
Yes, I think that would be the solution.
No more stress or strain or auto commute.
Just a day of total absolution.
A month like this we could all salute!
A month of Sundays, the prospect boggles!
Home and family and visiting friends,
no more news related ugly hassles,
and no more errands to the earth's ends.
Yes, to daydream of a month of Sundays
and avoid the issues of the real days
The Red-Faced Sunday School Teacher
By Elton Camp
The Sunday school lesson she must teach
Jesus to Lazarus inside his tomb did reach
About the great love it did take
From death his friend to awake
So to be sure to reach the childish heart
A question asked prior to the lesson start
“Who can tell what “resurrection” does mean?
A little girl to answer seemed to be very keen
“I’m not exactly sure, but I know one main thing.
If it lasts more than four hours, to a doc you bring.”
The teacher stammered and her face turned red
She was unable to reply to what the child said
From the room, she carefully slipped away
“As teacher I resign,” to the pastor she did say
food, funny, nostalgia,
I wouldn't mind sharin'
With Wilda H. Perrin
A fried chicken section
She burnt to perfection
White beans from the navy
Gummy rice with gravy
Green beans smothered down
Until they turn brown
Fussin' and complainin'
"I love you", she's sayin'
By moanin' and bitchin'
And cleaning the kitchen...
*She usually forgot to check the chicken and sometimes smoked up the whole house...If anyone DARED to come help, she would retort, "Who's the cook here
anyway? Open the damn door!" Also, NOBODY complained when it was time to eat!
father, food, funny, husband, sports,
fried chicken is good
with rice and beans and butter
ice cold glass of tea
and some football action for me
Robert L. Hinshaw
Bro Billy Sunday preached that salvation
Was the key to avoiding damnation
In pulpits he'd sweat and shout
And fling his arms all about
As if fighting bees in his oration!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
She rails at unseen whisperers,
un-wrappers of gooey carmels.
Her hat is high and so am I,
drunk on her liederkranz chanel.
I imagine a well-placed apple
replacing her feathered chapeau.
An unpracticed William Tell zings
her headless with his bow.
Clever subtitles explain the plot.
The score sets an ominous tone.
Things are fine till next to me sits
a girl wearing limburger cologne.
©Kathryn McLoughlin Collins
July 4, 2012
I cried and I cried and I cried
My little pet chicken had died
Mom offers a treat
Delicious to eat
Here's some nuggets boneless and fried
grandmother, humor, nostalgia,
Never thought I'd arrive
at the age of the Sunday Drive
Grandma did it
when I was a kid it
probably kept her alive
I was the driver on one of her last
needless to say, going too fast.
I touched her hand
said, "I understand,"
but I didn't, for soon she passed.
I've no particular fear of a drive on Sunday
But I sincerely hope I make it to Monday
The way my grandkid drives
I hope she survives
to bury me, like I did my grandma, some day.
humorous, parody, poetry, writing,
Poems are lovely, dark, and deep.
I don’t have any promises this evening to keep.
I must write them down before I count sheep.
I have many poems to write before I sleep.
blessing, cheer up, dark, dedication, dream, feelings, humor,
The words have been the poem,
and a good poem should fulfill you
It can offer consolation and comfort
in your time of need
Lifts up your pens, you upcoming poets write to,
your heart contents let your words,
be a conversation topic, be the closing of
the graduation speech, because
rhythmic language thrives, so allow the poems
to speak for themselves.
food, funny, love
I love my Sunday dinner
Roast pork and stuffing too
Yorkshire pudding and garden peas
Potatoes not old but new
I'll just look in the oven to see how the pork is doing
Wow what a lovely smell
Do you think you will be coming?
There's apple and mint sauce to add unto the taste
So come and get yourself round here
There is no time to waste
I think I'll have my afters now
Sticky toffee pudding
I might as well finish this off
I don't think anyone's coming
Off to Mother's for a lavish lunch
I scoffed at others having brunch
I arrived a little early so let myself in
The lively old girl was repenting for sin
I sat in wait for this wonderful feed
Then heard the gate, it was her indeed
We laughed and talked, but time was tickin'
With her scarf, she walked off to the kitchen
I anxiously awaited a three course meal
What has she just plated... I can hardly deal
Perhaps a roast for all the presents I've bought her
I deserved the most since I'm the son, not the daughter
But all I got was Toast, Mince and One Glass of Water !!!
friendship, places, longing, giggle,
It was something
You will take a long time forgetting
Should you sit on a Sunday's emptiness
Wanting something to do
Your hand always had the steering
Yet it was I who saw the map
And the detours that did not matter
I liked driving from Jacksonville to Georgia
Imagining horid things about horid places
And longing for familiar faces
Sometimes, perhaps you cease laughing
And swallow hard, and hide again
Tears that retraces where you have been
It was something
Too drunk with stubborness
To detour a lonely Sunday evening
Searching for one last giggle of happiness
A dark cloud appeared
on the horizon,
Its shadow blotted out
the summer sun.
A rumble of thunder
Echoed throughout the meadow
Bringing fear to the
He stood tall in the pulpit
Righteous, eyes rolling,
and brimstone to
His quivering flock.
The young huddled close by.
Mothers quietly listened.
The hellish fire
That awaited them.
Cast out demons and
Spoke in tongues.
The thunderstorm abated.
Then, purged of all anger,
The ram jumped off
And peace to the meadow
kurtis scott aka curtis futch jr
its the day of church
day to be alert
am not a jerk
i love to eat and sleep
not on monday
BLACK EYE PEAS ON
Foolishness On a Sunday Morning
Now that guy's too old
To go without a shirt;
His hair is white,
His belly like dirt.
But there's something in
The twinkle of his eye,
That turns my head,
Even though I'm shy.
I think he's not too old for me;
I'll smile at him,
And then we'll see.
If he smiles back, I think
I'll buy him a shirt,
But probably not pink.
Grandma put on her church Sunday best
Knowing that she's always the best dressed
But forgot her dress slip
As she reddened her lips
Her flowered panties were well expressed
The church parishioners looked in awe
Starring at the bright flowers they saw
Then someone yelled it out
Grandma looked as they shout
I hope you're wearing a floral bra
Contest: Limerick Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Janice Canerdy
(Syllable count 9 9 6 6 9, checked on PS)
L MILTON HANKINS
Some simpleton said Sally saved sixpence
So she sold sixpence six Sundays in a row,
Saving six sixpences six Sundays in a row
It has never been done before or since…
Selling sixpence to some simpleton Simon
Six Sundays in a row!
[Repeat six times quickly]
Written January 8, 2021
For Tongue Twister Contest
4th Place Winner!