Today's poems [4.5.08]

Vote for the poem that you really like by checking a box next to it. Then press the VOTE button to submit your votes. Also, links to poem categories and "Send to Friend" will open in a new window, so as not to interrupt your poem reading.

               Winter is here with his grouch, 
               The time when you sneeze and slouch. 
                    You can't take your women 
                    Canoein' or swimmin', 
               But a lot can be done on a couch. 

There once was a guy named Dave,
Who dug up a whore from a grave.
She was moldy and shitty,
And only had one titty
But look at the money he saved!

If Dr. Seuss Wrote for Star Trek: The Next Generation



     Picard:    Sigma Indri, that's the star,
                So Data, please, how far?  How far?

     Data:      Our ship can get there very fast
                But still the trip will last and last
                We'll have two days til we arrive
                But can the Indrans there survive?

     Picard:    LaForge, please give us factor nine.

     LaForge:   But sir, the engines are offline!

     Picard:    Offline:  But why?  I want to go!
                Please make it so, please make it so!

     Riker:     But sir, if Geordi says we can't,
                We can't, we mustn't, and we shan't,
                The danger here is far too great!

     Picard:    But surely we must not be late!

     Troi:      I'm sensing anger and great ire.

     Computer:  Alert!  Alert!  The ship's on fire!

     Picard:    The ship's on fire?  How could this be?
                Who lit the fire?

     Riker:     Not me.

     Worf:      Not me.

     Picard:    Computer, how long til we die?

     Computer:  Eight minutes left to say goodbye.

     Data:      May I suggest a course to take?
                We could, I think, quite safely make
                Extinguishers from tractor beams
                And stop the fire, or so it seems...

     Geordi:    Hurray!  Hurray!  You've saved the day!
                Again I say, Hurray!  Hurray!

     Picard:    Mr. Data, thank you much.
                You've saved our lives, our ship, and such.

     Troi:      We still must save the Indran planet --

     Data:      Which (by the way) is made of granite...

     Picard:    Enough, you android.  Please desist.
                We understand -- we get your gist.
                But can we get our ship to go?
                Please, make it so, PLEASE make it so.

     Geordi:    There's sabotage among the wires
                And that's what started all the fires.

     Troi:      We have a saboteur?  Oh, no!
                We need to go!  We need to go!

     Riker:     We must seek out the traitor spy
                And lock him up and ask him, "Why?"

     Worf:      Ask him why?  How sentimental.
                I say give him problems dental.

     Troi:      Are any Romulan ships around?
                Have scanners said that they've been found?
                Or is it Borg or some new threat
                We haven't even heard of yet?
                I sense no malice in this crew.
                Now what are we supposed to do?

     Crusher:   Captain, please, the Indrans need us.
                They cry out, "Help us, clothe us, feed us!"
                I can't just sit and let them die!
                A doctor MUST attempt -- MUST try!

     Picard:    Doctor, please, we'll get there soon.

     Crusher:   They may be dead by Tuesday noon.

     *COMMERCIAL BREAK, COMMERCIAL BREAK
     HOW LONG WILL THESE DUMB ADS TAKE?*

     Worf:      The saboteur is in the brig.
                He's very strong and very big.
                I had my fazer set on stun.
                A zzzip!  A zzzap!  Another one!
                He would not budge, he would not fall,
                He would not stun, no, not at all!
                He changed into a stranger form
                All soft and purple, round and warm.

     Picard:    Did you see this, Mr. Worf?
                Did you see this creature morph?

     Worf:      I did and then I beat him fairly.
                Hit him on the jaw -- quite squarely.

     Riker:     My commendations, Klingon friend!
                 Our troubles now are at an end!

     Crusher:   Now let's get our ship to fly
                And orbit yonder Indran sky!

     Picard:    LaForge, please tell me we can go...?

     Geordi:    Yes, sir, we can.

     Picard:    Then make it so!

                       ***** THE END *****

The young things who frequent picture palaces 
               Have no use for this psycho-analysis. 
                    And although Doctor Freud 
                    Is distinctly annoyed 
               They cling to their old-fashioned fallacies. 

There was a sailor from Brighton 
               Who remarked to his girl, "You're a tight one." 
                    She replied, "Bless my soul, 
                    You're in the wrong hole! 
               There's plenty of room in the right one!" 

By voting you are helping select today's best poem. This helps us provide you with better quality humor in the future, as well as to select the best poems to send in our daily best humor mailing.

But wait! Don't forget to read Today's Jokes Today's Stories Today's Quotes Today's Funny Pic   April '08 Poems Issues: S M T W Th F St 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30