Humor in poetry can sometimes seem like an oxymoron, and I'm as guilty as any amateur poet of using verse as an outlet for whatever angst I'm experiencing on a given day. So I enjoyed reading some "light verse" in search of a suitable offering. I was interested to realize that it never occurred to me to try and write a humorous poem, and I feel sort of inspired now to give it a try.
This poem of Judith Viorst's, although a little outdated in it's references (Keoghs?? I think they're some sort of retirement investment that were popular in the 80's), has a cute message about the way happiness changes as we grow older.
Is a clean bill of health from the doctor,
And the kids shouldn't move back home for more than a year,
And not being audited, overdrawn, in Wilkes-Barre,
in a lawsuit or in traction.
Is falling asleep without Valium,
And having two breasts to put in my brassiere,
And not (yet) needing to get my blood pressure lowered,
my eyelids raised or a second opinion.
And on Saturday nights
When my husband and I have rented
Something with Fred Astaire for the VCR,
And we're sitting around in our robes discussing
The state of the world, back exercises, our Keoghs,
And whether to fix the transmission or buy a new car,
And we're eating a pint of rum-raisin ice cream
on the grounds that
Tomorrow we're starting a diet of fish, fruit and grain,
And my dad's in Miami dating a very nice widow,
And no one we love is in serious trouble or pain,
And our bringing-up-baby-days are far behind us,
But our senior citizen days have not begun,
It's not what I called happiness
When I was twenty-one,
But it's turning out to be
What happiness is.
For more humorous poetry, go here