Humorous and funny Chant Royal poems and/or funny poems about Chant Royal. Read, share, and enjoy these hilarious Chant Royal funny poems!
Written by
Jagdish Bajantri
Categories:
emotions, funny love,
Do You Miss Me In Dreams
I think you miss me
After the years and decades in this planets I am give my hands to you and your family that my heart tranfrom into a new home of family for my mercy which I wish for you my ladies I am a gentleman
Don't be cry don't be shy don't be crazy don't be loose my hug this is night this is wealth this is fame I think I miss you I don't need but I do think how fool I am that i fell all ways to catch the butterfly kisses may you given by your smile and laugh when I get upset then you drawn back to the sleep over moon light I mumer my self bye take rest till next words
With love all
Jagdish bajantri
Written by
Vee Bdosa
Categories:
age, analogy, assonance, body, history, humor, passion,
The Mother of All Love Poems 2
THE MOTHER OF ALL LOVE POEMS 2
Tis where the world begins and ends,
where all the joy of life transcends,
the mountaintop, highest of highs,
just being here betwixt your thighs.
Tis where a man would die to be,
or sell his throne, just but to see,
fountain of youth, the Holy Grail,
and made for only one to nail.
Tis certainly a pot of gold,
tho some might wear out when it's old,
and makes the beggar man, who begs,
for just one night between these legs.
© ron wilson AKA VEE BDOSA the Doylestown Poet
Written by
Jan Hansen
Categories:
best friend, emotions, humor,
It Was Love
It was love
I sat under a bridge
That crossed the stream
Small fishes
Nibbled at my feet.
Agnes came
My girlfriend
She often annoyed me
But let me
Kiss her.
She threw pebbles at the fish
I bit her arm
She ran home crying
Telling her mum
I didn´t love her anymore.
I said I was sorry
She showed me
The bite mark
Asked her to marry me
She said yes.
It didn´t work out
The age differences
Agnes was six years old
I was four.
Written by
Allan Terry
Categories:
culture, dance, fish, food, humor,
Mr Pijin
Mono Aluminum Pijin they called him. A rascal and a sailor. He buys beef jerky by the bucket. He shaved his beard with a hand carved whale bone. They roll the flanks of mutton in braided lamb chitterlings, and roast them fair and square. The sauce is sweet nuff for dipping. As He crosses his legs to raise his pinky in the air. Far to perfect is the evening, might a woman wish to dance. She'd be greasy if she lean on me, cause I wiped the grease on my pants.
Written by
Allan Terry
Categories:
culture, dance, fish, food, humor,
Mr Pijin
Mono Aluminum Pijin they called him. A rascal and a sailor. He buys beef jerky by the bucket. He shaved his beard with a hand carved whale bone. They roll the flanks of mutton in braided lamb chitterlings, and roast them fair and square. The sauce is sweet nuff for dipping. As He crosses his legs to raise his pinky in the air. Far to perfect is the evening, might a woman wish to dance. She'd be greasy if she lean on me, cause I wiped the grease on my pants.