There is a long proud history of bawdy humor in literature of all types including poetry. I’ve decided it’s time I give it a go at low brow humor.
Farting is the sound
of the body’s marching band.
Its trumpeting brass,
thunderous drums, and
the delicate squeak of the clarinet.
released from within,
expelled with force or
slipping out through the cracks
in a hissing wind.
Grand multi-sensory experience –
whether earthquaking, embarrassingly obvious
or silent and deadly;
a bowel-shaking satisfaction
will always make you smile.
Polite society is no place for me.
Let the face bunch up in laughter
and let the ears tingle.
LET IT RIP! (and of course)
pass the nose-plugs please.
for more laughs….