Browsing Category Humorous Poetry

Welcome to the humorous poetry archive at Adam’s Poems Etc, an opportunity to scroll back through some of the funny and quirky poems that Adam Taylor has written and performed over the years!

A poem about leadership

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I once attended a talk about leadership, where I learnt about the concept of “VIM”…

The Art of Leadership

We hugged
and slapped high fives
like it said in the book.

NOW THE VIM THING, I shouted
THE VIM THING? she screamed.
VISION, I shouted
VISION, she screamed.
INSPIRATION, I shouted
INSPIRATION, she screamed.
MOMENTUM, I shouted
MOMENTUM, she screamed.
THAT’S THE VIM THING, I shouted
THE VIM THING, she screamed.

We hugged
and slapped high fives
like it said in the book.

Then my cleaning lady
went back to work.

  • An animated video of the poem made by film students:

A poem about confession

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In Judaism, a key Yom Kippur prayer known as “Ashamnu” encourages us to confess to great swathes of sin.

Poem of Atonement

we have slandered
we have robbed
we have bribed
we have wrought wickedness
we have lied
we have provoked
we have trespassed
we have transgressed
we have oppressed
we have rebelled
we have abominated
we have wallowed in evil

but otherwise we think
we’ve done quite well

A poem about a German pilot who came to tea

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This is the poem displayed in the loo of a North London café that prompted a BBC producer to offer me a poet in residence slot on ‘Weekend’ on the World Service. The idea for the poem came from a press quote mentioned by Jeremy Paxman in his book ‘The English’.

On 14 August 1940, the Daily Express reported that Mrs Betty Tylee and Miss Jean Smithson approached a downed German pilot. They declined to shoot him and instead offered him a cup of tea.

Will You Shoot Me Now?

No, we don’t do that in England
said Mrs Betty Tylee
would you like a cup of tea?
Though one thing we do do
is put milk in first.

The military police
aren’t due until three
said Miss Jean Smithson
as she rummaged in
the biscuit tin.
Gosh, your Messerschmitt’s in
a bit of a mess.

Not to mention my garden
said Mrs Betty Tylee
unsmilingly.
Here’s a teaspoon.
Cheers.

Then she stabbed him with
her garden shears.

A poem about prehistoric me

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I once read an article in the Independent that, 400 million years ago, a creature called Acanthostega lived in muck at the bottom of the sea. It had a salamander-like body with big glassy eyes atop a flat, Muppet-style head. Acanthostega was the earliest known vertebrate lifeform that crawled out of the sea to live on land. But why bother? And was it some version of Adam, the first man?

For some reason, my wife thinks this poem is autobiographical. Anyway, it is the beginning in so many ways. The first post in this poetry blog. The opening poem I read whenever I perform my poetry. In fact, the first poem I ever wrote.

Adam

I’m Adam the Acanthostega.
My quality of life’s quite meagre.
Lurking on the Atlantic shelf                   
I feel I can’t express myself.
There’s little point in being ambitious
when all you meet are ancient fishes.

On reaching land – if I could make it –
I’d run around completely naked.
Then settle down and find a wife
and venture out to get a life.
Once I’d evolved a little more
I’d open an account offshore.

I’m Adam the Acanthostega.
I’m feeling pressured and beleaguered.
Skulking underneath the oceans
I can’t tune in to my emotions.
I try to share with my pal Bob.
Sadly, he’s just a primitive blob.

I did once date an alligator.
She was a poor communicator.
I said, you’ll soon get over me.
There are plenty others in the sea.
She smiled; meanwhile her tail went splat
and ever since my head’s been flat.

I’m Adam the Acanthostega.
Plumbing depths of around one league, ugh
can’t stand this dirt and filth and grime
the mud, the muck, primeval slime.
I’d really love to power shower
and spray myself with passionflower.

Then out to dine, a top class venue
but please no seafood on the menu.
I’ve always had first rate relations
with lobsters, crabs and other crustaceans.
Though I wouldn’t mind a glass of wine
to take away the taste of brine.

I’m Adam the Acanthostega.
I’ve never been to Leeds or Riga.
The Seven Wonders of the World
are to me like a flag that’s furled.
These torpid hours concealed in murk
would drive any vertebrate berserk.

I sometimes visit that rock there.
I go by sea and not by air.
It isn’t much of a vacation,
so little chance for recreation.
As skiing doesn’t yet exist
I’m feeling terribly off piste.

I’m Adam the Acanthostega.
Not second rate, I’m a premier leaguer.
I lead my cohorts from the fore.
So I’m the first to crawl ashore.
As I later mentioned to my daughter,
the first ever fish that’s out of water.

And I find the fresh air very taxing.
So I build a deck chair to relax in.
But someone’s made it here before us
and I don’t mean a dinosaurus.
When I return to my deck chair
someone else’s towel is already there.

  • A video of the poet performing the poem plus an animated version: