Inside: 43 Cactus Poems That Don’t Succ
When it comes to beloved house plants, none is more revered than the little cactus! This is because they are absolutely beautiful, hearty plants that let’s face it…are hard to kill. Nothing saddens me more than a dead plant, and choosing a cactus as one of mine has been the best decision!
But plant babies aside, these plants are widely loved around the world. This makes sense because they’ve been around for anywhere between 30 to 40 Million years.
Yep, they’re downright geriatric! They’ve had plenty of time to be appreciated by humans, which in comparison have only been around for the last 6 Million years by the way.
Of course, during all this time these prickly guys have been incorporated into all sorts of art. From paintings to tapestries, to even poetry. I’m guessing if you clicked on this article you may be interested in the ladder of the 3. And that’s awesome.
If you scroll down you will find that I’ve put together an epic list of the best Cactus Poems That Don’t Succ….pun absolutely intended and I will not apologize for it! Haha.
In order to truly appreciate the beauty that is the cactus, we must first learn of its history! So let’s discuss the…
History of the Cactus
Before these spikey green babies filled our homes(and hearts), they had a home of their own! A dry, deserty home. If you own a cactus, you know that they don’t like to be watered frequently. This makes sense as to why they originated in the desert since they prefer areas with prolonged dry seasons seeing as they store water in their leaves. They really don’t need very much of it to survive! In fact, overwatering is a sure-fire way to send your cactus to plant heaven, and nobody wants that!
The name succulent derives from the Latin word ‘sucus’, which means sap filled or juicy. This name was clearly in reference to many of the chunky leaves that succulents have, or in the case of the cactus, the water that could be found in the center! There are over 60 different varieties of succulents on this planet today, the most well-known being the star of our show today, the cactus!
Cactus Symbolism & Meanings
This awesome plant also holds many of its own symbols and meanings. The most well-known of which is that it represents strength, endurance, and protection. As you can probably guess, this is due to its ability to survive harsh living environments and protects itself using its many sharp needles. These needles protect the plant in many ways, including acting as hundreds of mini umbrellas as well as stopping animals from eating it!
Now that we know a bit more about the cactus, let’s get into the poetry!
Poems about Cacti
1. Cactus
I know it would hurt
but I love you anyway.
-Vlad
Starspangled cowboy
sauntering out of the almost-
silly West, on your face
a porcelain grin,
tugging a papier-mache cactus
on wheels behind you with a string,
you are innocent as a bathtub
full of bullets.
Your righteous eyes, your laconic
trigger-fingers
people the streets with villains:
as you move, the air in front of you
blossoms with targets
and you leave behind you a heroic
trail of desolation:
beer bottles
slaughtered by the side
of the road, bird-
skulls bleaching in the sunset.
I ought to be watching
from behind a cliff or a cardboard storefront
when the shooting starts, hands clasped
in admiration,
but I am elsewhere.
Then what about me
what about the I
confronting you on that border
you are always trying to cross?
I am the horizon
you ride towards, the thing you can never lasso
I am also what surrounds you:
my brain
scattered with your
tincans, bones, empty shells,
the litter of your invasions.
I am the space you desecrate
as you pass through.
-Margaret Atwood
O MAGNET-SOUTH! O glistening, perfumed South! My South!
O quick mettle, rich blood, impulse, and love! Good and evil! O all dear to me!
O dear to me my birth-things—All moving things, and the trees where I was
born—the
grains,
plants, rivers;
Dear to me my own slow sluggish rivers where they flow, distant, over flats of silvery
sands,
or
through swamps;
Dear to me the Roanoke, the Savannah, the Altamahaw, the Pedee, the Tombigbee, the Santee,
the
Coosa, and the Sabine;
O pensive, far away wandering, I return with my Soul to haunt their banks again;
Again in Florida I float on transparent lakes—I float on the Okeechobee—I cross
the
hummock land, or through pleasant openings, or dense forests;
I see the parrots in the woods—I see the papaw tree and the blossoming titi;
Again, sailing in my coaster, on deck, I coast off Georgia—I coast up the Carolinas,
I see where the live-oak is growing—I see where the yellow-pine, the scented
bay-tree, the
lemon and orange, the cypress, the graceful palmetto;
I pass rude sea-headlands and enter Pamlico Sound through an inlet, and dart my vision
inland;
O the cotton plant! the growing fields of rice, sugar, hemp!
The cactus, guarded with thorns—the laurel-tree, with large white flowers;
The range afar—the richness and barrenness—the old woods charged with mistletoe
and
trailing moss,
The piney odor and the gloom—the awful natural stillness, (Here in these dense swamps
the
freebooter carries his gun, and the fugitive slave has his conceal’d hut;)
O the strange fascination of these half-known, half-impassable swamps, infested by
reptiles,
resounding with the bellow of the alligator, the sad noises of the night-owl and the
wild-cat,
and
the whirr of the rattlesnake;
The mocking-bird, the American mimic, singing all the forenoon—singing through the
moon-lit
night,
The humming-bird, the wild turkey, the raccoon, the opossum;
A Tennessee corn-field—the tall, graceful, long-leav’d corn—slender,
flapping,
bright
green with tassels—with beautiful ears, each well-sheath’d in its husk;
An Arkansas prairie—a sleeping lake, or still bayou;
O my heart! O tender and fierce pangs—I can stand them not—I will depart;
O to be a Virginian, where I grew up! O to be a Carolinian!
O longings irrepressible! O I will go back to old Tennessee, and never wander more!
-Walt Whitman
I tend my flowers for thee —
Bright Absentee!
My Fuchsia’s Coral Seams
Rip — while the Sower — dreams —
Geraniums — tint — and spot —
Low Daisies — dot —
My Cactus — splits her Beard
To show her throat —
Carnations — tip their spice —
And Bees — pick up —
A Hyacinth — I hid —
Puts out a Ruffled Head —
And odors fall
From flasks — so small —
You marvel how they held —
Globe Roses — break their satin glake —
Upon my Garden floor —
Yet — thou — not there —
I had as lief they bore
No Crimson — more —
Thy flower — be gay —
Her Lord — away!
It ill becometh me —
I’ll dwell in Calyx — Gray —
How modestly — alway —
Thy Daisy —
Draped for thee!
– Emily Dickenson
Imagine we broached bulbs,
It’s just a flower,
Pink and purple; a sickle shower
No reason to wander now
It’s right here
I dug the hole; a triple tier
I think I’d like a lilly-fan
We’re too south
What a shame; ran my mouth
Redwoods up north, even pine
Just palm tree pews
Ficus freeways in the news
Lovely lotus and cactus blooms
Lead with latter
Too lazy for symmetric attar
-Fleur
6. The Cactus
You sit in the forgotten bone-dry hills
surrounded by sand and sagebrush
above Buffalo Pound Lake.
A day and a night, and then
three more days and nights.
Do not mark the hours. Just sit
until the prickly pear raises its bloom.
A pale thing, translucent moon, sea anemone,
the first thin veil of a cataract that will lead a man
to the necessity of seeing with another kind of eye.
Can you birth a thing like this flower?
Elemental, composed of water and light.
The concentrated effort of pure will.
The blossom wilts and drops
without sadness, nothing resembling
nostalgia or regret.
-Randy Lundy
7. Cactus Poem
Never kiss a cactus,
It really hurts your lips,
Never kiss a cactus,
It’s one of Momma’s tips!
Never hug a cactus,
It’ll hurt too much,
Those spiny little cacti,
Aren’t good to touch!
Today I kissed the cactus,
It wasn’t good to do,
Now my lips are aching,
I won’t be there at school!
-Mr. R’s Science Poems
Hiding yourselves in bushes lying in ambush
Like a porcupine hiding its head bundled
A ball with spines you’re formed too
And straight and majestic like the soldiers
Fencing along the land’s border with guns
Guarding you look with spines too
Along the roadsides and rocky regions, deserts and hills
River banks and everywhere as you all live in squads
you plume with different flowers attired with
Different leaves and shapes spiny is true too
In a tranquil mood as the calm waves roll
Anaked seashore stretches in silent admiration
Under the quiet yellow sunshine like an army woman
There stands a lonely spiny cactus bold and gallant
A panache, a red flower on her crown proclaiming
‘A symbol of confidence’.Isn’t that too true
– Indira Renganathan
I’m sorry
But this song will be
My deepest apology
From someone like me
I should’ve treated you better
Not that kind of girl who
Give thorns from words in my songs
If you’d read this letter
I hope you’ll feel better
I’m your cactus friend
Who tries to hug you
But instead
Give thorns that made you bled
I’m sorry I’m waving good bye
But this will help you fly high
So go chase that dream
And forget that I have lived
I’m your cactus friend
Don’t worry this soon will end
I’m sorry if I’d hurt you badly
You’ll soon be sleeping soundly
I just wanna say I’m sorry
And thank you
My dearest friend
It’s me your cactus friend
10. Cactus
Thorns are my language.
I announce my existence
with a bleeding touch.
Once these thorns were flowers.
I loathe lovers who betray.
Poets have abandoned the deserts
to go back to the gardens.
Only camels remain here, and merchants,
who trample my blooms to dust.
One thorn for each rare drop of water.
I don’t tempt butterflies,
no bird sings my praise.
I don’t yield to droughts.
I create another beauty
beyond the moonlight,
this side of dreams,
a sharp, piercing,
parallel language.
11. Cactus
Pansy, marigold and rose
No takers for their beauty
Cactus-collection is the rage
Flowers are not in favour
Thorns prick the drawing-rooms.
Exchanged
As gifts of love
Exhibited
With puff and pride
Freezing all fine feelings.
Depravity, deformity
Cold cunning
Of modern mind
Sprouting up
In cactus-craze.
-Vijay Vishal
A rose and a cactus fell in love.
They understood each other’s thorns.
-Lucas
13. Cactus Toe
Prick!
Stick!
Ooooh-Ouch!
You prickle, prod, and prong.
You’re nature’s pokey pin cushion,
Nine million needles strong.
Pierce!
Plunge!
Ahhhh-Eeek!
You’re always sprouting spears.
You hardly ever need a drink —
It hasn’t rained in years!
Jab!
Stab!
Yikes-Yeoooow!
You stand in scorching sun.
You soak and stretch your spiny arms,
Which couldn’t be much fun!
Gouge!
Ram!
Eeeeep-Ohhhh!
I think that you should know,
I’d rather eat a worm
Than have a cactus in my toe!
– Natalie F.
14. Dopamine
The flash flood of euphoria,
is swallowed by the thirsty ground,
eternally unquenched.
I will smile,
and fix my eyes on the desert sun.
I will grow roots and bloom,
an endogenous cactus,
while envious drifters lick the sand,
desperate for a drop of rain.
– The Dybbuk
15. Eric the Cactus
Delivered to us by an optimistic gentleman in a black Stetson cap
who spent his days waving village traffic down with an open hand,
it’s been four years since you were sat on the bookshelf in Kath’s house.
You stood proud, surveying the fine china made across the border
wrapped up in donated newspaper articles and pristine hand-me-downs,
while my inky fingers welcomed regulars who only ever looked around.
Each weekend we were greeted by bright smiles set in permanent shadow.
Sometimes I declined banknotes on the street for carrying dismantled tables.
I’m still searching for namesakes when perched on local stones above sea level.
Friends like Elvis were divisive figures due to their signature tobacco smells.
Under a green bus shelter, I laughed at his frown about a Midlands town.
Thinking about the rows of vacant church seats still leaves me cold
even now. As I watch needles drop onto rocks and a solitary shell,
your frame shrivels daily and bends you crooked like a question mark.
Oh, Eric – will I ever meet your father again to discuss your burial?
-Lewis Wyn Davies
Cactus Flower Poems
Cacti can produce amazingly beautiful flowers during fertal season. These of course have also been appreciated by poets around the world, so I had to include some of the best Cactus Flower Poems I could find! Take a look at the photo above to get a sneak peek at what their flowers may look like.
16. Cactus Flower
As the sun sets—we set our plan into motion.
Our sole purpose to overthrow
any assumptions, to change
the course of ordinary thinking.
Our work begins by speaking to darkness
and telling darkness soon :
we will demonstrate through the secrecy of stars,
earth’s magnetic embrace
how we can be many things at once.
So much of the work we do
is internal, goes unnoticed, uncompensated.
We get written off or not written at all,
labeled freakish, prickled,
rough around the edges.
We learn to thrive
in the dry humor of soil;
carry water in our bellies
to quench our own thirst.
We survive, over again.
Adapt. Even after being
carried in the beaks of birds,
dropped elsewhere,
far from our roots, we grow.
We flourish.
And when least expected, when histories
not told by us, for us, claims we are defeated,
we gather our tears as dew. We release our anguish,
intoxicated by our own sexed pollen.
We burst,
displaying the luscious folds of our petals.
-Amir Rabiyah
17. A Cactus Flower
If I am a Snake and you are a Cactus flower in a thorny bush.
Do you think that we can love forever?
If I am a River and you are the Bank
Then only we can join together in the Ocean of Love.
In the ocean if you turn to a Shark and I become a coral flower,
Then what will happen to our endless love?
To the eternal lovers who drowned in the stream of love.
Re-birth of my friend Denis.Joe may you long live!
-Nimal Dunuhinga
rare bloom flowers
on prickly pear cactus
cholla attacks
-Joan Rooney
There were still shards of an ancient pastoral
in those shires of the island where the cattle drank
their pools of shadow from an older sky,
surviving from when the landscape copied such objects as
“Herefords at Sunset in the valley of the Wye.
”
The mountain water that fell white from the mill wheel
sprinkling like petals from the star-apple trees,
and all of the windmills and sugar mills moved by mules
on the treadmill of Monday to Monday, would repeat
in tongues of water and wind and fire, in tongues
of Mission School pickaninnies, like rivers remembering
their source, Parish Trelawny, Parish St David, Parish
St Andrew, the names afflicting the pastures,
the lime groves and fences of marl stone and the cattle
with a docile longing, an epochal content.
And there were, like old wedding lace in an attic,
among the boas and parasols and the tea-colored
daguerreotypes, hints of an epochal happiness
as ordered and infinite to the child
as the great house road to the Great House
down a perspective of casuarinas plunging green manes
in time to the horses, an orderly life
reduced by lorgnettes day and night, one disc the sun,
the other the moon, reduced into a pier glass:
nannies diminished to dolls, mahogany stairways
no larger than those of an album in which
the flash of cutlery yellows, as gamboge as
the piled cakes of teatime on that latticed
bougainvillea verandah that looked down toward
a prospect of Cuyp-like Herefords under a sky
lurid as a porcelain souvenir with these words:
“Herefords at Sunset in the Valley of the Wye….
-Derek Walcott
” 20. Haiku 512
Cactus blooming red,
matches the blood in my veins,
hauntingly precious.
-Amanda
21. Haiku
Contradiction viewed
As flower blooms on cactus
A plant of spines
-Jyoti Sunit Chaudhary
Flower in a Cactus
Loni Prairie Chief
A free spirit I was
In an environment so loud
I yearned for the attention I got
Through the eyes of the lusty crowd.
Dancing so freely you caught my eye
I stood at bay for the right time
I took a sip and made my move
As I approached you.
Not quite sure of what to expect
But who cares what the heck
I made my move and asked you
If you were free to dance with me.
So willing and fine
It was about time
Someone could keep up with me
As well as be free.
It was just one dance
But we rocked it like it was our last chance.
You were into me I was you
And then the music stopped and we were through.
I walked off and didn’t stop to think
That you would be the one
That would make my day.
I would brush past you
With the intentions that you would notice me too.
So much variety you did stand out to me.
Was it your eyes? No…
Was it you smile? Maybe…
Was it your scent? Kind of…
Was it your style? Yes…
Was it your moves? Definitely!
You were my Flower in a Cactus.
I had another chance
As you took it upon yourself to show me a dance.
You took my breath away
All I wanted to do was anything but play
Feel your emotions
And show what I could do
Have a good time and be serious too.
If it weren’t for another that had my heart
I can guarantee you would be the one to start
-Loni
23. Cactus Flower
Canteloupes and misanthropes,
Bills and thrills,
Inspiration and perspiration.
Money and verses.
Sad pairings.
And meanwhile
the bills arrive
and the poet suffers.
A lifetime
on the edge of eviction.
Indoor spaces
always precarious,
provisional.
Walls are expensive.
For the poor poet,
unwelcome to the landlords,
rejected by the walls,
the outdoors remains.
Camping out.
About my life
in the great outdoors
I’ll tell you one story,
for free, as always.
There is a place
where there is no television
and newspapers are not delivered.
It’s a sort of desert.
It’s lovely to visit there at dawn
when the cactus bloom.
There I have known
the irony of plants.
The ugliest cactus
is the one with the most beautiful flower:
a giant lily,
fragrant,
multicolored,
that opens only at dawn.
It’s understandable.
In those parts
the sun is so strong
that the flower
has no choice
and must remain closed
the rest of the day.
But calm down.
Resist
interpretation.
This little story
is not a metaphor
for the misery of the poet.
It’s only a memory.
A recollection perhaps.
A pang.
A little thing,
mental
and priceless.
24. Cactus Analysis
Thorns are my language.
I announce my existence
with a bleeding touch.
Once these thorns were flowers.
I loathe lovers who betray.
Poets have abandoned the deserts
to go back to the gardens.
Only camels remain here, and merchants,
who trample my blooms to dust.
One thorn for each rare drop of water.
I don’t tempt butterflies,
no bird sings my praise.
I don’t yield to droughts.
I create another beauty
beyond the moonlight,
this side of dreams,
a sharp, piercing,
parallel language.
-K. Satchidanandan
25. Cactus Seed
Radiant notes
piercing my narrow-chested room,
beating down through my ceiling-
smeared with unshapen
belly-prints of dreams
drifted out of old smokes-
trillions of icily
peltering notes
out of just one canary,
all grown to song
as a plant to its stalk,
from too long craning at a sky-light
and a square of second-hand blue.
Silvery-strident throat-
so assiduously serenading my brain,
flinching under
the glittering hail of your notes-
were you not safe behind… rats know what thickness of… plastered wall…
I might fathom
your golden delirium
with throttle of finger and thumb
shutting valve of bright song.
II
But if… away off… on a fork of grassed earth
socketing an inlet reach of blue water…
if canaries (do they sing out of cages?)
flung such luminous notes,
they would sink in the spirit…
lie germinal…
housed in the soul as a seed in the earth…
to break forth at spring with the crocuses into young smiles
on the mouth.
Or glancing off buoyantly,
radiate notes in one key
with the sparkle of rain-drops
on the petal of a cactus flower
focusing the just-out sun.
Cactus… why cactus?
God… God…
somewhere… away off…
cactus flowers, star-yellow
ray out of spiked green,
and empties of sky
roll you over and over
like a mother her baby in long grass.
And only the wind scandal-mongers with gum trees,
pricking multiple leaves
at his amazing story.
– Lola Ridge
Cactus Love Poems
Cacti deserve all our love, so these next poems are an ode to this beautiful plant! Not only does it help the ecosystem of the desert, but it demands our respect. It also piques our curiosity. Oh, sharp green succulent how badly I want to hug thee! That would be ridiculously painful of course, but I wish I could!
26. Out of the Desert
Stiff, stifling, arid air. The lizards, sand,
and cactus. Scorched red rocks and baking skin.
My canteen empty in a barren land –
thus was my landscape until love walked in.
One summer evening under moon’s cool beam,
the desert’s xeric heat no longer cursed.
Lazing with friends. A pool… in walked my dream.
First glance: a tall, cool drink to slake all thirst.
Then as her eyes met mine, my blood ran warm.
My hand touched hers; both temp and pulse were raised.
In time, slow dancing – two bodies conform,
and with that first kiss, fulgent flames soon blazed.
The desert’s heat from which I’d just emerged
blithely returned, as first love’s swelter surged.
-John Watt
27. I didn’t hold grudges
I suffered,he laughed
I filled up his voids, he created mine.
I looked for roses,he gave cactus
I looked only for his heart,he focussed on my body
I healed all those stitches,he gave me wounds..
I ignored him,he started following
I left him,he cried
I didn’t hold any grudges,he holds guilt.
-Neha Agrawal
I’ve seen the Rocky Mountains
From Alberta to New Mexico
Heavenly reaching cathedrals
Rock walls like stained glass windows
Death Valley’s crystalline sands
Sparkle like moonlit seas
Red-orange cactus roses
Saguaro and Joshua Trees
Green meadows covered with weeds
Deep purple to crimson red
Melting in waves of heat
Reflecting in lakes where they bled
Looked out, over Niagara Falls
Sunlit mist of every hue
Thousand Islands, covered with snow
In The St Lawrence of indigo blue
Multicolored hot air balloons
Floating lazily ‘cross baby blue skies
But the place most beautiful to me
Is here, with you by my side.
– Daniel Turner
29.Once I sang Like A Little Bird
I feel I’ve conquered
the majestic night
in an open field sodden with
love of a countless gasps
I am not new to the world
swearing in the shadow of a cactus
and mulling over the smiles
of Northern stars tirelessly
taking photos of my soul, which is always close
to my birth, craving for prosperity
And, I crave for breath
accenting to mine
Ah, I am forever
the tropical wind of my land
where poetry is like a flower’s gatherer
sweetly teasing my thoughts
to sing like a little baby bird
in an open field sodden with
love of a countless gasps
-Ernesto P. Santiago
30. A Cactus Love Poem
Let’s stay at an inn in Tucson
We’ll hike with strong boots on
In the great South West desert
We will, to simpler times revert
You and I lit by an Arizona sunset
Dining on prickly pear if we dare
Leaving the pool to run; wet
To our private desert oasis lair
The desert birds have found how
To live within the grand saguaro
To enter and make a nest, a home
For their return from gathering roam
Oh, they crane their arms to sky
Sentinels guarding the landscape sere
As a fork with many random tines
20 feet, perhaps, lofting in the air
Sharp are the thorns, dear; take care
Be mindful if your arms are bare
Yet I will hold you, safely, tight
And calm your silly cactus fright
When we return to whence we came
With memories of the cacti stay
Our love of each other’ll be to blame
For loving the cactus’ majesty
-Mindy Makuta
Camel of the plant world
From your flattened body, waxed with thorn
A brilliant blossom is unfurled
The promise of new life reborn.
Who would know that you– wild, unbridled sprite
Could spring from the driest, dusty spaces
Others, ‘though more ‘cultivated’-your beauty vexes-
Your exaltation ‘exiled’ to the desert out of spite
‘Magnificence’ found in the least expected places-
yet “uncrowned” truly you are the…“Yellow Rose of Texas”
– Martha’s Garden
I may be prickly
I may be sharp
I may be round
I may be a danger
planted on the ground…
But I have the patience
Loves solitude
I have a strength
a beautiful attitude…
I can be tough
I can be mad..love mad
But I have a gentleness
and that’s not too bad…
-Unknown
33. Cacti
Chollas Greet with Blooms…
Organ Pipe Reaches for the Clouds…
Elkhorn Arms Embrace…
Barrel Cactus Squats…
Prickly Pear abounds with fruit…
Saguaro Blesses…
34. Haiku: Cactus
just branches, no leaves
cacti look like children’s drawings
unfinished forest
-M. Nakazato LaFreniere
An untouched cactus
Spikes uncultured to their wrath
As shark teeth unfed
– Unknown
36. House Cactus
Prickly Small Plant
I’ve watched you grow taller
My green pride and joy
-Natalie
37. Haiku 1
Succulent, moisture-
bearing hope in barren lands;
barbs barring access.
-Liz McFadadzean
38. Haiku 2
Sharp and vexatious
and shunning an embrace from
doting admirers.
-Liz McFadadzean
39. Haiku 3.
Silver filament
stitching up the cactus arms…
stabbing like needles
-Liz McFadadzean
40. Haiku 4.
Delicately she
points heavenward with fierceness
in her spiny grasp
-Liz McFadadzean
41.Cactus Haiku
being surprised when
the dead cactus pokes you
lost relationships
-Samantha Ren
42. Cactus Person
A Rose Quartz Cactus
It Thinks That It Is People
And It Acts Like It
– EvilerThanThou
43. Cactus Haiku
Surly succulents,
Prickly pears cure many ills
when ripe for pricking!
– Kat
More Poems You’ll Love
- Love poems – Send love to your significant other through these lovely poems that will surely make their heart flutter! A love poem is a great way to express your affection for your partner no matter what occasion. Let the words of the poets help you say “I love you” when you share with them these poems about love.
- Animal poems – This collection of poems will make you appreciate animals even more. Whether it’s your pets at home, your favorite animal at the zoo, or a wild animal you’ve just read about. It’s truly wonderful how many different kinds of animals are out there living on land, water, and air. Some are loyal companions like dogs, some are fierce predators like lions, and some are strong and majestic like horses.
- Funny poems – Laughter is the best medicine, so they say! These funny poems can cheer you up on a gloomy day and brighten your mood. Funny poems bring a smile to anyone who reads them (Bonus if you’re reading it out loud!). No matter how serious you are, it’s alright to be ridiculous from time to time! Add humor to your greetings and messages with the funny poems in this list.
