My favourite funny poems

Lots of funny poems arrived over the past ten days.

I was really impressed with poems that were funny without using rhyme! Very hard to do!


Here are some for my favourites:


(Thanks to the Lovewell Family I have a Spike Milligan book to send one child. I am going to get them to pick who to send the book to. I will let you know when they tell me)


Can-Can dogs

I woke up
I could not sleep
I glanced outside
I saw my dogs and more watching a  TV show called do the can can
They copied it faster and faster
They started spinning
I fell asleep watching them
Good night can can dogs

By Anika B  Age 7 Year 3 St Andrews Preparatory School Christchurch



Someone has been

in my kitchen

Eating all the kiwifruit

Eating all the pavlova

I know a little secret

It is actually me!

Harry H 8 years old, Year 3, St Andrews College, Christchurch


Funny Me

I am very funny
I do cartwheels and
rolly pollies.
I do silly faces,
and eat lots of cake,
biscuits and lollies too.
I am very funny
Bibble bobble doo.

Madeline T Age 9  Ilam School


               Wiggle Waggle

Wiggle waggle through the town jumping up and down
Noses wiggle and tails waggle
Spring has sprung with a wiggle and a waggle
My face will wiggle in my frowning gown
Out pops Mr Down Waggle Wiggle Waggle Gown

Lucia N year 3 age 8 Ficino School


The Talking Banana

Once I got a banana that talked
Now I need it to stop!
He looked in the cold bedroom
And then he froze..
I put him next to the fire
But he shrivelled up
Now what can I do with
an old shrivelled up banana?
His friend is Strawberry
And she talks as well
She likes dipping herself
Into pools of chocolate
A strawberry chocolate!
What can I do with that?
Now I can eat her! YUMMM

Trinity P Aged 7 St Andrew’s College  Christchurch



Dylan is my cat
He’s a bit fat
Looks a bit like a big hairy mat
He drinks the toilet water
It is gross
His kisses are scary considering where he’s been
I sometimes wonder where he goes all night and what he’s seen.
Ghosts?  Monsters? Aliens?
Probably not, more likely just rats and mice and maybe the roll of a dice.
Dylan is my cat,
He’s special in many ways
Not all of them good
He always comes back home, I think he knows he should
We look after him, feed him really well
And one day I might boil him up in a pot if I need him for a spell.

Alex K  I am 12 years old in year 7 at St Peters Cambridge



A Funny Little Thing

A funny little rainbow
has a funny little leprechaun
who owns a funny little pot
of gold which got stolen
by a funny little goblin
who lives with a funny
little man who shops at
a funny little market which
is found at a funny little rainbow end.

Vivien Paparoa St School


What is the point of
Writing a poem that’s funny
When you’re not laughing?

Razan A, St Peter’s School Cambridge, Year 7,


The Cat Fight

Scritch! Scratch! MEEEEOOOOWW!

The Tom cat tries for the pounce,

But the Siamese is too speedy, and takes a bounce,

Tom claws in the air, searching for his prey,

Siamese is too clever, and dodges away,

In comes a tiny, lonely field mouse,

Only to find that he’s not in his house,

The two cats stare at the gerbil with glee,

But the mouse just shrugs, and nibbles his cheese,

Tom cat scratches the carpet, in suspense,

But the mouse keeps on eating, not at all tense,

Siamese is preparing stretching her legs,

But the mouse is relaxed, peace and quiet, he begs,

BAM! The cats pounce, the mouse is a goner,

But the mouse jumps up, smiles with honor,

Chop! Slam! Crash! The mouse is very naughty,

Little did the cats know, he’s black belt in karate,

Tom and Siamese, flop on the floor,

While the mouse laughs and heads out the door,

Only to find a Persian cat, unfed,

And snap! The lonely field mouse is DEAD!

Mimi 11 years old and from St Peters School, Cambridge.


The Rabbit and The Hen

My name is Jack.

I live in a garden that is surrounded by a lake,
but next door to me lives a feathered old hen named Gladys
oh for goodness sake !

Every morning I open my door and I proudly bounce out,
that silly old bird Gladys sets fire to her door by screeching about.

Eating my breakfast of oatmeal and rocket
Gladys the hen pecks her way through my pockets.

All day I hunt for food, digging down into the deep earth
Gladys sits in a pile of dirt, bathing in dust with all her mirth.

Now when all is quiet and I go to sleep,
I dream of Gladys caged and shut up in her coop.

Oak age 12 Homeschooled

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