Silly; Gross: Fart!
Having just exclaimed 'what can I write about? ' I heard a muffled noise,
...followed by a pungent cheesy smell which FEW of your ilk enjoys.
Now farts have gotten a bad reputation....along with burps and belches.
In our society they are THINGS...which a more 'polite' person often squelches.
And I'd say I'm one of the 'more polite'...in my normal daily life; that is except when I'm alone...with my loving, understanding WIFE.
Why even my wife farts on rare occasions.....Don't let her know I've told.
But she generally does it behind a CLOSED door. Unlike me, …she's not so bold.
So 'FART' is what I'll write about tonight, .... stretched out in this chair.
You'll excuse me please if I let one loose...though it MAY foul the air.
Farts come in at least four varieties. I'm sure you all know THAT.
I could break it down to sub-varieties, but I'll KEEP those in my hat.
First there are farts that are quiet and smelly. Not my cup of tea.
At least one should make some noise....so others won't HAVE TO SAY 'not ME'.
Then there are those quiet but NOT smelly; I think women mostly do those.
They give off nothing obnoxious….. to offend your ears or nose.
There are noisy farts that are also smelly. Some would say they're WORST OF ALL.
There are noisy farts that are NOT smelly, ...some like a bugle call.
I've heard of 'farting posts'....used in competitions, ....and
I've heard of using cigarette lighters...to ignite fart emissions.
I've been around dogs that fart and I guess some cows do too.
Probably lots of species fart (now and then) ...not just a FEW.
I believe what's behind all farts...is simply what we.....eat.
If you eat too much or the 'wrong thing'....you MAY be blown....OFF your feet.
Personally that's never happened to me. I'm not lying; ....it's really TRUE.
No 'Captain Ahab' has ever said of me: 'My god! There he blew! '
poem by Bri Edwards
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Related quotes
The Breakfast Of The Old Farts
the old farts
did meet for breakfast
of coffee and cookies
and fish and rice
and a pomelo and camote chunks
and they all fart
and part and meet again
only to fart some more
this lunchtime.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Mind Farts
Ideas formed, when least expected
Mind farts shared, if one’s inclined
An eternal wind outwardly directed
Freely expressed, when not confined
: o(“Fart” a fun 4-letter word, the butt of many jokes: o)
ROTMS
poem by Ray Lucero
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Silly: A Fart Poem #2:
Naked I stepped from the shower tub, bending over SLIGHTLY,
when all of a sudden came a sound to my ears, roaring, not lightly.
It was just gas (I hoped) but it burst from me like lightning from a cloud.
It was NOT one of your gentle lady's farts, but a fart very VERY loud.
And besides the loudness there was a sound that made me worry;
could it be that recently I had eaten too much curry?
I noticed the bathroom window did not shatter,
but I was quite worried that I may have left a splatter
on the dark gray tile floor behind me.
As luck would have it there was no mess,
so I put on my makeup and put on my dress.
(Nov.2012)
poem by Bri Edwards
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Silly; Gross: Fart Poem #2
Naked I stepped from the shower tub, bending over SLIGHTLY,
when all of a sudden came a sound to my ears, roaring, not lightly.
It was just gas (I hoped) but it burst from me like lightning from a cloud.
It was NOT one of your gentle lady's farts, but a fart very VERY loud.
And besides the loudness there was a sound that made me worry;
could it be that recently I had eaten too much curry?
I noticed the bathroom window did not shatter,
but I was quite worried that I may have left a splatter
on the dark gray tile floor behind me.
As luck would have it there was no mess,
so I put on my makeup and put on my dress.
(Nov.2012)
poem by Bri Edwards
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Goha said to his son that he wont sleep beside him. Said: Saved us your farts.
Just a load of silly limericks about people I know
I know young lady called Dee
Who lived in a bubblegum tree
She savoured the view
Whilst big bubbles she blew
And she only came down for her tea.
I know I young lady called Carolyn
Who said she was gonna go travelling
She afforded the lot
By a pay out she got
When her ex got impaled by a javelin.
There once was a poet called Ben
Who couldn't let go of his pen
He had a 'to do'
With some strong super glue
And it's been stuck there ever since then.
There once was a young Mr bright
Who wanted his farts to ignite
When he lighted the match
His fart just wouldn't catch
Coz the pants he had on were too tight!
I know a young lady called Laurie
Who burped after eating a curry
By god it was loud
And for this she was proud
Then she giggled and said she was sorry!
There once was a young man called Will
Who found it quite hard to sit still
He did not sit down once
No not even for lunch
It eventually made him quite ill
I know a lady called Karen
Who hired a group of hit men
She payed a few bob
For this one special job
And her ex was not spotted again
I know a girl called Nicola
Who craved for a day at a spar
She wanted shellac
And a rub of her back
But thought waxing was going too far
poem by Stevie Taite
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Gargoyles
Pet gargoyles grunt and snore and cough,
But sadly you can't turn them off!
The belch and wheeze and sneeze and spit,
I cannot bear the thought of it!
They slurp and burp, they howl and growl,
They moan and groan; they smell so foul!
Gargoyles gargle, and pass lots of gas,
Their gas it smells like sassafras!
If you get a gargoyle have no fear...
From their FARTS you can make root-beer!
poem by ToddMichael St. Pierre
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For Declan
There once was a fellow named D.
he had misunderstood little me.
Though his poems ain't bad
and he is a good lad
so let pax for the two of us be.
So this limerick was writ just to say
that in life it is better to play
than to act like two farts
who would hurl poisoned darts
let me know if it's Aye or Nay.
poem by Herbert Nehrlich
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Gasping
You can howl
you can wish
you can gasp like a fish,
as most oldsters would show
you how little things grow.
And your ticker?
We snicker
do you get PVC's?
When the ceiling lights flicker
and you're busting to pee
it is you who departs
to a concert of farts.
poem by Herbert Nehrlich
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My mom is...
My mom is mean,
cause she grounded me.
My friends say she's nice,
but that's just her disguise.
My mom is okay,
cause I'm not grounded today.
My mom is GREAT,
and it's not up for debate!
My mom is fun,
I think she's number one.
But my mom has flaws,
just like everyone else.
They are not against the law,
and she has room to care about us and herself.
poem by Burpsn Farts
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Don't Say, I Said
You say it's not true.
It makes me so blue.
How could all I've felt be so untrue?
Don't say, I said
that you don't love me through and through.
After all I thought we were tried and true.
Don't say, I said
that all was there is truly dead.
You break my heart with such blazing smarts.
All your reasons stink like rancid farts.
Please don't say, I said
that I'm weak and you need one who's truly strong.
For this pain stretches far and long.
You say you're leaving.
Forever I'll go on grieveing.
Mourning the loss of a love so true.
So tell me now that this is just a fool.
Please don't be so cruel.
Don't tell me that you've found a brand new jewel.
poem by Michael McParland
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Thanks!
Thanks for the farts
And thanks for the butts
Thanks for the sharts
And thanks for the nuts
When our lips kiss
Or our butts touch
It reminds me of Bugs Bunny
Or maybe Daffy Duck
Cuz, man, are they funny
You know what I mean
When you fall over laughing
Scene after scene
It's kind of like you
When I see your dumb face
I'll take you to school
Put you in your place
Love is, Love is not
Love is not eternal lust.
Love is when you do
not feel repulsed when
your longterm partner
farts under the covers.
Love is not forever sexual
Love is when everything
edible has been eaten
yet you still come back for more.
Love is, what lust lacks.
poem by Not Long Left
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Hey Everyone, She’s AUTISTIC!
Hey everyone look here
It’s the girl with freaky hair
Oh my little does she care
This is an ode to freak shows
And silly dancers in the rain
Glistening cobwebs and rot
A fascination with plants in pots
Your funny sir the way you scream
You make my day with the dinner
I laugh again at this part
This is an ode to miserable old farts
So look at me and you shall see
I bear three heads and a crown
Even if my crown is thorns
I will wear it with pride
Because this is an ode to you dear one
And here I laugh again.
poem by Cheryl McDonnell
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Cheap Whiskey in Bed
There's an empty arena
Where Obama once was,
There is too much confetti-
Now I've got myself lost.
I was writing to tell you
Of my feelings tonight-
But the noise and distraction
Have drowned the light.
With the way things are going
I can hardly contain
The hurt and the anger
As the things stay the same.
Someone recently fired
Hung himself from a tree-
While some passing onlooker
Said: 'I'm glad it's not me.'
Welfare, food stamps, recession-
Rebels turned to old farts,
Holding on to their pensions
And postmodernist art.
Yes, we are moving forward
To some dismal abyss-
Four more years of a conman
And more homeless bliss.
Christmas trees in the White House-
Fifty four trees in all-
Just more glitz and more glamor
Without a soul.
While they bomb poor countries
With remote controls-
Deaths of innocent children
Mean nothing at all.
While they dance in Hawaii,
Take some ocean cruise,
Freezing homeless bastards
Sleep in vomit and booze.
poem by Alexander Shaumyan
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Philanderin' and phillarkin': How to be a Modern Poet We All Love
Just two things. Write so that we can
understand you while lurching in public transport
book in hand and understand you because
you’re like us but imaginative and funny with it
and make us think; but no fancy stuff:
we want to be sure you’ve been there,
done it, got it down on paper
and that it’s the same there as we’ve been;
and the other thing but it’s not essential:
the better you write, the more we are reassured
by a colourful life well OK scandalous:
a rich and very varied sex life would be good:
a day with Paris, a week with Princess X
then three weeks with some anonymous scrubber
(no gender discrimination here by the way)
would play well. And if 50% of your liaisons
refused to talk (e.g. it was brief but profound)
we could read avidly and then hate the other 50% who told all..
but that doesn’t mean that a vigorous sex life
permits you to say all women are hoes or
call your very private wife ma bitch..
and drink to excess of course, mixing your drinks and company:
though remember, dying young is no longer
a career move in these times
of trivial pursuits and careless raptures;
as for drugs, OK if you must
in which case a ho-hum public attitude from you
indicating you don’t either approve or disapprove
(suggesting that the relationship between chemicals
and creativity is too subtle for the tabloid headlines)
would be better than some extreme stance.
So, Ruth, Derek, and that abstemious Hindu guy –
tell your idiot supporters that more scandal, not less
would well befit a poet who’s to stand for all of us
as Poet Laureate, Prof of Po, Director o fArts Council Poetry;
to assure us that Dionysius is still alive and well and living
somewhere beyond sin and writing great poetry.
*Come to think of it, a rumour that Ruth and Derek
once had a stormy relationship with mutual recriminations
could make this one run and run.
Now that’s what we expect of poets – a bit of phillarkin’ on the side..
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Perceptions - Sonnet
When life from life with sigh or strife departs,
when threescore, more, or less, existence span
with verse and chapter closed before began,
dare logic there define our petty parts?
We scramble onwards as by fits and starts
from fears is drawn the shadow of a plan
thrown up to mock perceptions ego can
conjur to calm before life's final farts
the gene game phase which plays for counterparts
from stage to stage of every V.P.N.
before in dust dissolved are all vain arts.
Few know a jot or care a fiddlestick
For ancestry whose key code makes them tick
10 March 2006
poem by Jonathan Robin
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