Poopie Poems

The Largest Collection of Poo Poetry on the web!

PoopiePoems.com is a collection of poopie poetry. Poems written by everyday people during those increasingly rare moments of peace and quiet.

What is a Poopie Poem?

A Poopie Poem is a masterpiece that is created whilst one is in the bathroom taking care of business, dropping a deuce, dropping the kids off at the pool, shitting, looping, laying a giant steamer, blowing up the bowl, and pooping to name a few.  Though we all share a different name for it, one thing that is in common is that there is endless time for creativity in there.

We here at Poopie Poems do our best to harness each and every moment of this timeless tradition of laying cable to produce Poetry that every man, woman and child can enjoy.  We choose to create poems that capture the moment of what is transpiring.  No we aren’t some second rate poem writers that just babble off their fake heartfelt feelings after countless drafts and publish them. Rather we create our poems while doing our duty, right in that moment. We feel that this action packed moment inspires us to write our true emotional feelings and give you our audience our best work, as you will always be a big steamy #2 in our hearts.

What Format Should my Poem be in?

We usually author our poems with a rhyme fashion, but we are also open to all major poem categories including haikus, sonnets, soliloquy’s, prose, etc and so forth.

What do I eat the night before to make my poopie better for more poem time?

We here at Poopie Poems are big fans of fajitas, beans, chili’s (spicier the better), Chinese food, and fast foods. Basically anything that you know will keep you on the can as long as possible.  Bonus points go out to people who take a colon cleanse product as you will be having hours of enjoyable relaxation time with the porcelain throne.

How long do I need to create a poem?

That’s a great question, as we know sometimes we're in and out of the bathroom in 3 minutes flat, however a perfect “ghost” shit like that is rare and were often in there 10+minutes the day after thanksgiving pushing our heads off to no avail.  Basically we here at Poopie Poems recommend a solid 5 minutes of dedicated pooping time to truly make a quality piece.  We here at Poopie Poems partnered with the United Swindlers Front to conduct a study on average poop time of our authors and the results which can be seen below, confirm that between 5 and 7 minutes is necessary for a quality Poopie poem.

Day of Week              Average Time Spent by 5 Adults Over 30 Day Period (In Minutes)

Monday                                        6.12

Tuesday                                       6.30

Wednesday                                6.19

Thursday                                    6.00

Friday                                         5.73

If your wondering, why yes, we did log our logs. ​

What do I need to make a Poopie Poem?

A toilet, a cell phone or note pad to write on, and a turtle head prairie dogging its way out.

Our Goal.

To be your one stop place for all bathroom related humor.  Be  on the lookout for the launch of Poopie products in stores near you soon.  We want to fuel your fire for the perfect shit. We want to be the force behind the fart that launches the poop chute to full blast.

Filtering by Category: close calls

Traffic Troubles

Down the NJ turnpike, you see signs for the GWB

Simultaneously let loose a fart launching a marble into your undies.

you are fine, though your intestines are ready to flow,

Home is so close, 30 minutes to go

Suddenly the most unholy of sights,

Miles and miles of bright red tail lights.

head dropping to your steering wheel sitting in paralyzing fear,

“What will I do with this load peeking out my rear?”

sweating and clenching as you inch right along

pooping in the middle lane?, would it really be so wrong?

45 minutes have passed, you are out of time,

That last fart you ripped let out a brown stinky slime

Swinging open the door faster than Marty McFly in the deloreon,

clearly this poop will in no way be boring.

hopping over the rumble strips tearing off your jeans

Up the guard rail your puckering butthole swings

Hundreds watching shock and awe in their gaze,

barely given a thought in your brown poopie haze.

Finishing fast and realizing your in big trouble,

No toilet paper available only a big mound of trash and rubble.

bunny hopping over, finding an oldlottery ticket,

Noticing ‘not a winner’, quick wipe then you flick it

done and finished you let out a sigh,

wiping the sweat trickling down your thigh.

Who gives a damn what these people think,

one more dump will not worsen the New Jersey Stink.

rememeber when time for traveling does come,

Ensure you emptied out the residual poop from your bum

If you got to go, let it flow!

If you got to go, let it flow!

Playoff Poop

At the bar you spend your night, w

baseball playoffs are on everything is alright.

Quickly finishing a few beers washing down the fries,

Drink and eat somemore utill you feel it in the thighs.

the game is over and the night is through,

heading home happilly no thought of tomorrows number two.

jolting awake at 4am like a barreling train,

ur sphincter is holding back explosion like a rusty water main.

Up you sprint sweating from your panic attack,

quickly bending to sit but hear a loud smack.

Looking behind you in a state of wild fear,

The entire wall is covered in a giant doodie smear.

Your poor asshole never stood a chance to win,

In retrospect nuclear wings had done you in.

So before you throw back those beer and wings,

Think, "Does shit really belong on the shower curtain rings?"

Take it easy tonight while pounding them down

Lest you'll be painting the walls again, the wrong color, brown.


I Prefer My Eggs Not Runny

I prefer my eggs not runny,Nor is it my fancy for a shit. To be squirting from my anus is not funny, I don't like the feeling of it one bit.

The pain is unbearable, I begin to wince and shreek. It feels as if I were shitting a table, My knees begin to tremble, vision starry, I'm growing ever so weak.

What good pushing this hard will do, I know not, I'm sure nothing good will come from this. I feel my organs binding in great knots, I feel like a woman as my asshole begins to expell piss.

The backsplash hits me in the toosh, And I begin to weep. For my bum is covered in wet mush, And so is the bottom of the seat.

A day with diarrhea is far from great, There's nothing glorious about it. Diarrhea, diarrhea, thoughts of you bring on feelings of hate, But when its all said and done and the pain is gone, diarrhea is just another form of shit.

Mr. Doodie URI



The Bailout Bun

At Occupy Wall Street for day number two,the swell of crowds of people is quite a view. As the day goes on my tummy begins to grumble, I need some food and I need it on the double. So over to the line of food thats free, praying that it tastes better than the bark of the tree. Finally the food is piled on my plate oh so high, I pray it doesn’t soon come streaming down my thigh. For beans and rice are a vegetarian treat, yet all I want is a tasty piece of meat. Thats what keeps the body strong, I fear that shortly my colon will know that somethings wrong! Like clockwork my stomach feels a sudden ache, deploying a fart that could be confused for NY’s second earth quake. Instantly I clench the checks on my rump super tight, my prime affirmation 'I will win this doodie fight!' I penguin walk for what seems like an hour, sweat pouring down my legs; man do i need a shower! I’m on this journey that never ends, if only I thought ahead and wore some depends. Finally my heart sinks as I come to the honest truth, there is no place to poop not even an old telephone booth. Seconds remain until I will be covered in a brown burst, and the 99% would soon be seeing a first. For a man covered in poopie is not a common view, unless you pass a crazy homless guy playing with his poo. climbing atop a ledge I look for a last minute place of relief, suddenly I see a Fat Cat and his crony passing by underneath. Quickly I drop my drawers as I can’t miss this chance, all around me the protestors sensing whats going on begin to dance. Knees are bent, cheeks are spread I’m about to let it fly, I time it perfectly as the 1%'er is about to walk by. I let loose a force with the power of a thousand suns, and cover that Bankster from his head to his soggy buns. He just stands there in shock with a face full of fear, as all the protestors start to come near. They laugh, point and giggle realizing what I'd just done, 'I love this man' they shout, 'with the bailout bun!'

Pooping Adventures at Occupy Wall Street

The protestors fill the news day after day, so down to Wall St. I go to see if they are going to get their way.

But as I approach I feel rumbling from below ,

and know that quickly to a toilet I must go.

I look to my left and to my right,

but bathroom facilities are no where in my sight.

My spirit weakens and I begin to pout,

who will be the one who gives me a poopie bailout?

Then suddenly from afar a quiet chant begins to rise,

this will be the perfect cover for me to leave a doodie surprise!

So as the crowd began to shout,

out my ass a brown monster does spout!

Happy and relieved I raise my jeans,

no longer do I have the quell those sphincter screams.

So as I leave Occupy Wall Street,

I feel lucky that poopie splatter does not occupy my feet.

The Poopie Cry!

Sitting in class watching the clock tick, dreaming of the moment i can drop this 2 tonne brick.

Finally at 4:30 the time is here,

I briskly walk as im full of fear.

Someone must be against me as it starts to pour,

the fear grows I can hold this poopie no more!

In desperation I attempt to run,

but i'm forced to slow and clench my bun.

Thunder claps but im not even phased,

the pain from this poopie has me in a daze.

Home stretch now im almost there,

soaking wet i waddle i begin to shout and swear.

The pain is growing my butthole so sore,

I walk in the entrance and i kick down the door.

Once the stall opens my pants they drop,

The poop shoots out with an astonishing PLOP!

I screamed, I moaned and some might say,

They heard my poopie cries from a mile away.