Choosing a winner for this week’s prompt of warning labels was no small feat. I had several favorites; so, did the only fair thing and picked the one that tickled my funny bone most.
And that was:
Warning Labels, by Hobbo ‘Smoking kills,’ Sally read on the packet As she bent down to pick up her litter So engrossed, she did not hear the racket Of the thirty ton lorry that hit her.
Hobbo won for the short, simple, abrupt, crushing humor of a poor, warning label-reader’s folly. Great work!
As I said, the others were no less humorous. Read for yourself (and learn from their tales):
Inferno, by TH Kerr In case of fire, throw this in first.
The Forbidden Fruit, by H.R.R. Gorman At night you’ll see me gently creeping With mom and dad hard a sleeping In through laundry room door. I open the bag of forbidden snacks – Attractive gummies, laundry packs.
Then you’ll hear my lips a smacking, My YouTube channel gaining backing While I eat Tide Pods galore. My mouth – it foams with Clean Breeze And a few civilian casualties.
The tags may say “Danger!” “Warning!” But industry tools are boring. As a big attention whore I munch and crunch on banned fare, On poison beautiful, I’m well aware.
Untitled, by DumbestBlogger This 7¼” hand held circular saw is designed to cut 2x4s Please do not perform surgery with it That would be dumb If you wish to perform a murder this tool would be excellent We don’t condone murder You should probably use it for 2x4s
Untitled, by Pensitivity101 A nifty thing, this kid’s stroller, Keeps him warm and dry, Proudly walking down the street, I nod at passers by. Then at home, it’s time to put The kettle on for tea, But first I have to take him out And things are hard to see. The label bears a warning here To first remove the child Before collapsing to put away, Then instructions can be filed.
The new toaster, by Bruce I don’t want to boast But I just bought a thing that makes toast. The instructions say: Plug in and use as one oughta. It warns: Not to be plugged in and used under water.
Words of Warning, by Doug Jacquier The fridge magnet letters spilled out on the table, followed by the numbers and then a WARNING label. ‘Some more advanced children may well be prone to spell out things you may not condone.’ Piffle, I snorted, as I added them to the door; my kids are more adult and their taste is not poor. What I hadn’t allowed for was their merciless wit and their ability to give visitors an apoplectic fit. Thus ‘HELLO BABE’ was what greeted tubby Mrs. Foster and her balding hubby got NICE RUG. WHAT DID IT COST YER? The Reverend was rocked by DO SHOES HAVE SOULS? and Granny by HAVE YOU TRIED SHAVING YOUR HAIRY MOLES? I gathered the clan and in a voice loud and ringing said that any more pranks and their ears would be singing. All was quiet for a while but you can’t stop temptation; I was greeted with KIDS ARE CAUSED BY MULTIPLICATION. Despire myself, I couldn’t stop laughing and arranged my reaction ALL PROBLEMS CAN BE SOLVED WITH A LITTLE SUBTRACTION. Game over but they must have the last word they decided with the finale WE CANNOT STAND A HOUSE DIVIDED.
Untitled, by Deb Whittam I felt it the moment they stuck it on. Shame descended upon me right away. I knew it for what it was, A stigma, I swore I would make them pay.
For marked I was, I felt the others turn, Association would only bring despair. For we all knew since Covid-19, That brushing off notoriety was rare.
Absently I wondered what crime I had committed, I mean, I was a staple, I was beyond compare. But then Larry, the wholesome muesli bar whispered, “You contain nuts mate.” Life just wasn’t fair.
The Geriatric Behavioral Unit, by Ruth Scribbles Granny was a pistol She really was a rascal And after Grandpa died last month Her pranks became a scandal
We couldn’t keep her home alone She loved to hide and play We sent her to the unit So they could make her stay
We went to visit granny And thought all would be well When we arrived right on time We saw the sign and yelled
What is granny up to now They said and wrung their hands The help said she was determined They tried to understand
Granny met this guy, you see Who fell in love with her She convinced him they should run away The rest was all a blur
You Have Been Warned, by Obbverse The small print. Please check parcel arrives intact and complete, Verify no packaging has been torn, tagged or ripped, Our goods become lawfully yours upon receipt. (Our job is done once it’s sealed and shipped.) The fine print. Please open package with the utmost care, Check all contents against checklist inside, The Company isn’t liable for loss, damage or repair Of goods dispatched. (despite what we implied.) The finer print. Your satisfaction is paramount to this vendor So should any parts be found to be lacking Immediately return faulty goods to sender; (We look forward to see what you sent packing.) The finest print. (Please see Section 86, Clause D about bad goods returns;) If, by opening, our original box is folded, spindled or mutilated The Company consider this raises wilful damage concerns And therefore your Money Back Guarantee is invalidated.
(For this and further ongoing custom we thank you. NO further correspondence will be entered into.)
Fair Warning, by Fishman I took my radio into the bath with me and the warning label was right. I got a shock, a jarring jolt, my lord it was such a fright.
I drained the tub and dried myself my nerves were in quite a state. I vowed right then to always heed the warnings labels words, “You’re right, oh labels. I do oblige, I’ll do as you dictate.”
“I’ll hold the saw by the correct end, I’ll believe that matches may cause fire. I promise not to drive with the sun shield in place. and I’ll believe that if I drink Clorox bleach I may, in fact, expire.”
With that all said I took a breath to try and calm my nerves. But my heart kept racing – thump, thump, thump – it just would not agree. I had to take a tranquilizer, not one as prescribed, but three. The label was right ‘cuz the next thing I knew I… Zzzzzzzz…
Thanks to everyone who entered. Please return tomorrow for next week’s prompt!
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Welcome, one and all, to the best source of funny poetry on the web! (If not, it very soon will be…)
We had several fine entrants on the subject of Eccentrics, and the winner is:
Untitled, by Richmond Road An embarrassing mess was my brother With one leg that was short. Not the other Which made this eccentric Walk in circles concentric Causing constant distress to our mother
Richmond Road won for being the funniest and most limerickest. Basically, I laughed the most.
But his wasn’t the only one to elicit a few, painful snickers. Read the others and see:
Untitled, by Dumbest Blogger There was a young boy with a poker Who ate an extremely large porker He burped quite a bit And then licking his lips He swallowed the cow in the clover
Untitled, by TanGental To be considered a true eccentric Don’t dye your hair or develop a tic Forget the multi-coloured spats And avoid wearing tweedy hats. Keep a steady gaze and be authentic.
Untitled, by Matt Snyder at night across the rooftops ran a kid named Matt without a stitch of clothes on his person, he was also quite fat Perhaps it was the thrill of being caught by a girl Instead he was adored by a cat
A Paean To The Patron Of Poor Poetry, by Obbverse Now expired William Topaz McGonagall was our inspirations name, His well-intended worthless words Will was all too wont to proclaim, But Willy’s laboured literary constructions sat ill-fittingly, Serious tragedies becoming comedies, albeit unwittingly, Eternally re-nouned as the worlds poorest poet, to his undying shame.
Lug Nut, by Obbverse His Mum remained inanely chatty and cheerful Even as Vinnie grew quiet, depressed, then tearful, Vin had suffering in silence down to an fine art So Mrs Van Gogh found the the real crazy part Was when Vinnie cut her off only to give her an earful.
Untitled,by Gary I am English and I am most certainly very eccentric I drive a car the shape of a teapot but don’t worry, it’s electric I have a fine collection of pink britches with matching bowler hats Let’s not forget I live underground with my cross dressing pampered cats And pray tell what’s wrong shopping in a musical codpiece when it’s authentic
Here ya go!, by Ruth Scribbles There once was an eccentric old lady Who was said to be really quite crazy An obnoxious artist she was And extremely heartless because She was left at the altar all lacy
Untitled,by Michael Fishman Henry wanted his in-laws to leave So he sneezed really loud in his sleeve The in-laws, abhorred, to the door they rushed toward. And a sigh of joy Henry did heave.
Thanks to everyone who entered. Please return on the morrow for next week’s prompt! Tell your friends! Tell your acquaintances! Tell your mom!
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Conversation. Voices that are not mine or my children’s or the creaking moaning ageing of the house -voices from others are talking. And laughing. We have friends over, and we are visiting without fear.
As we talk about their move from out of state, we hear an airplane fly over. We hear a click-clunk of scooter on sidewalk coupled with happy child-talk, from outside. As the night darkens, the child-talk becomes teenage squeals as our older neighbors begin night games in the street.
Do you remember these things?
Music -I hear music. There’s an impromptu outdoor concert a few blocks away. There’s a neighbor cleaning his house with the radio playing. My husband sings to our baby; he grins, entranced, as he watches the slow notes move his father’s lips.
The hose, outside, is on. I hear the rush of water that used to send me running to scold, “Turn that off this instant!” Now, I open our blinds to summer sky; glance down to muddy children, laughing in the hose-rain. I wave.
I remember these things.
As sounds filter in where once they were not, I remember. I feel my soul shudder thaw stretch unfurl. I feel. I hope. I smile.